My hands shook. So that was it. She had already handed him my secondary card, while I’d been stupid enough to keep transferring her monthly allowance like a devoted fool.
The farce was over.
Elara never locked her phone. I used to think it was because she had nothing to hide. Now, it made it easy—I downloaded every chat, every photo, every transaction record.
She came back in, expression cold.
“Because you hit Dorian, this honeymoon is over. I’ll take him home so he can rest. You stay here and reflect on your behavior.”
Without even collecting her luggage, she grabbed her phone and left with him.
I made one call to Mr. Grayson of the Azure Cliffs Villa, asking him to assign a bodyguard to follow them quietly. He agreed immediately—after all, I wasn’t just another guest. I was one of the hotel’s largest shareholders.
Within hours, I had a private jet arranged and flew back to Westcliff before they even landed.
When the bodyguard got off the plane, he sent me a video. On board, a yellow-haired man groped Elara. Dorian rushed forward, punched him, and ended up with his face covered in bruises.