Chapter 4 A Stranger He Couldn’t Place
Sophia’s jaw tightened. Her chest heaved. The anger, the hurt, the humiliation they all roared inside her.
“I’m ready,” she whispered, voice steady now. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”
Margaux’s lips curved into a satisfied, almost predatory smile. “Good. Then let the world forget Sophia Hart… and let Elise Moreau rise.”
Sophia clenched her fists. “It won’t be easy. But I want payback. I want Alexander and Vanessa to answer for what they did to me.”
“That’s the fire,” Margaux said, her green eyes bright. “I’ll teach you how to enter a room and shift the air. How to read a contract and spot the trap. How to smile while you pull someone apart.”
Sophia swallowed, her heartbeat loud. “And after that?”
“Then you take what he loves,” Margaux said, leaning back. “Starting with the company he wants most Moreau Luxe.”
Sophia frowned. “Moreau… like my new name?”
Margaux smiled slightly. “Call it fate. If he wins that bid, he’ll wipe out dozens of small suppliers. Including what’s left of your father’s mills.”
Sophia straightened, determination hardening her features. “Then teach me.”
Margaux laughed, low and warm, a sound that carried both promise and danger. “Oh, child… I already started.”
THREE YEARS LATER
Two months into her new life, Elise Moreau no longer felt new.
Her steps were steady. Her French flowed easily. Her eyes no longer searched a room they judged it.
One morning, Victor entered the apartment and dropped an invitation on the table.
“Your first test,” he said.
Elise picked it up. Her fingers paused. “He’s in Paris.”
Victor nodded. “The Laurent Banking Conference.”
Her blood cooled. “Alexander?” she asked. “Is he looking for me?”
Victor gave a thin smile. “No. The world believes Sophia Hart is gone.”
He leaned closer, voice sharp with satisfaction. “He’s here to charm investors for the Moreau Luxe deal. He’s confident. He thinks he’s already won.”
Elise met his gaze. “What do you want me to do?”
Victor didn’t blink. “You’ll attend the gala tonight.”
“As Elise Moreau,” she said calmly.
“Yes,” Victor replied. “And you will not break.”
⸻
That night, the gala filled the Palais Garnier with light and music.
Elise wore a long column of midnight-blue silk. Her hair was smooth and elegant. Her posture was perfect every movement measured, controlled. She held a glass of champagne she had no intention of drinking.
Then she saw him.
Alexander stood near a marble statue, laughing softly, surrounded by admirers. The same easy smile. The same confident tilt of his head. Polished. Powerful. Untouchable.
For a split second, nausea hit her. Rage followed, sharp and burning. Her knees almost gave way.
Breathe, she told herself.
Alexander’s gaze swept the room. And landed on her. His smile faltered. Just for a second.
Elise Moreau lifted her chin. And smiled back.
Alexander stared at her longer than polite.
Elise felt it immediately.
That pause. That flicker in his eyes.
He stepped closer, wine glass in hand, smile smooth but curious. “Have we met?”
Elise smiled lightly. Calm. Detached. “I don’t think so.”
He studied her face. “Strange. You look… familiar.”
She tilted her head. “People say that often.”
Alexander laughed, brushing it off, but something stayed in his eyes. “Alexander Blackwood.”
“I know,” she said, shaking his hand briefly. “Elise Moreau.”
His grip tightened just a fraction. “French?”
“By birth. Global by business.”
That caught his attention.
“Moreau…” he repeated. “Any relation to Moreau Luxe?”
She met his gaze without blinking. “I own it.”
Alexander straightened. “You’re the CEO?”
“Yes.”
A beat. His smile widened, warmer now. Calculated. “Impressive. I’ve been trying to get a meeting with you for months.”
“I don’t take many,” Elise replied calmly. “I prefer results over conversations.”
He chuckled. “Direct. I like that.”
“I hear you’re here seeking investors,” she continued. “European expansion. Ambitious.”
“Necessary,” Alexander said smoothly. “Blackwood Enterprises is positioned for massive growth. With the right partners.”
“Partners,” Elise repeated. “Or control?”
He laughed again, but it came a little sharper this time. “I don’t hide my ambition.”
“Good,” Elise said. “Men who do are usually lying.”
That earned her a look half amusement, half challenge.
Vanessa appeared then, slipping her arm through Alexander’s.
Tall. Perfect. Smiling like she owned the room.
“This is my Wife, Vanessa,” Alexander said proudly.
Wife.
The word hit Elise hard.
Vanessa’s eyes flicked over Elise, curious, dismissive. “Lovely to meet you.”
“Elise Moreau,” Elise said coolly. “Congratulations.”
Vanessa smiled tighter. “Thank you. Alexander tells me you’re… very wealthy.”
Elise smiled back. “Money is easy. Power is harder.”
Alexander laughed. “That’s exactly what I’ve been saying.”
Vanessa excused herself to greet someone else.
“Tell me,” he said, lowering his voice. “What would convince you to invest in Blackwood Enterprises?”
She stepped closer, just enough to unsettle him. “Transparency, Clean books. And influence.”
“I can offer all three,” Alexander said confidently.
“Good,” Elise replied. “Because I already invested.”
His eyes widened. “You did?”
“Yes,” she said calmly. “Quietly. Through a holding company.”
“What name?”
She met his gaze. “E.M. Capital.”
His face lit up with pride. “Then welcome aboard.”
Elise opened her mouth to reply but Alexander’s phone rang.
He glanced at the screen and smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry, dear. I have to take this.”
She nodded. “Of course.”
Elise turned and walked toward the terrace, her heels silent on the marble floor.
The moment she stepped outside, the cool night air hit her. Her hands were shaking.
She moved into the shadows, stopping beside a large potted olive tree.
Below her, the Seine glittered, calm and beautiful nothing like the storm inside her chest.
Then she heard his voice.
Alexander’s voice.
Too close.
She froze.
He was on the other side of the tree, phone to his ear, thinking he was alone.
“…No, don’t worry about the Moreau Luxe resistance,” he said lazily. “She already invested.”
Elise’s breath caught.
“All I have to do now is charm her,” Alexander continued, his tone confident, bored. “Get her to fall in love with me. I’ll break things off with Vanessa, marry Elise Moreau, and take her company.”
He paused, listening.
Then he laughed.
A cold, cruel sound that made Sophia’s blood turn to ice.
“The Hart family?” he said, like he was remembering a bad joke. “Please. That case is closed.”
Elise’s nails dug into her palm.
“The judge is already paid,” Alexander went on. “And now that Sophia Hart is dead, there’s nothing they can do. They’ve filed complaints, but it won’t matter. New York is mine.”
He scoffed. “The Harts are weak. Finished. Under my feet.”
Another pause.
“I honestly don’t know why the old man is still alive,” he said lightly. “At least the mother died of a heart attack after hearing about her daughter. Once they’re all gone, I can finally relax. The company is mine anyway.”
Elise felt like the ground had dropped away beneath her.
Alexander sighed into his phone. “I’ve got to go. I have another deal to close.”
The call ended.
Sophia didn’t move. She didn’t breathe.
She stayed hidden, watching him step away a few minutes later, smooth and confident, like he hadn’t just destroyed lives with his words.
When he disappeared into the crowd, she turned and walked out of the gala.
SOPHIA HART’S APARTMENT — PARIS
The door closed softly behind her.
Margaux appeared beside her like a shadow.
“I heard you met your ex,” Margaux said quietly. “You did well. I’m proud of you. You made him take the bait. He now knows you control E.M. Capital.”
Sophia’s hands curled into fists. “You’re proud of me?” Her voice shook. “You hid the truth from me. My mother is dead. How could you do that?”
The words cracked open everything.
Rage and pain twisted so hard Sophia nearly collapsed.
Margaux caught her arm, steady and firm. “If I had told you, you would have stopped. You wouldn’t have survived the training. Everything we built for three years would have turned to ashes.”
Sophia broke.
Tears spilled down her face, hot and silent.
Margaux’s voice stayed calm “Let it burn. Let it burn until there’s nothing left but you.”
Sophia wiped her tears with trembling fingers.
Her breath slowed.
The shaking stopped.
Something cold settled deep in her chest.
She lifted her head and looked at Margaux, her voice low and deadly calm.
“He’s wrong.”
Margaux smiled slowly. Proud. Dangerous. “Yes, darling. He is.”
Sophia straightened, calm and controlled.
“Good,” she said softly. “Let him believe that I’m gone.”
She turned toward the window, Paris lights glowing below.
“When I come back,” she added quietly, “he won’t see it coming.”
