Reborn as his captivating wife

Quiet Moves, Louder Impact

By the next morning, Elena's bedroom was littered with notes, financial reports, and the glow of market tickers on her tablet. She hadn't slept much, but there was a refreshing determination in her eyes. Her first small investments had started to grow. Nothing groundbreaking yet, but enough to feed her confidence.

The sound of the front door opening echoed faintly upstairs. Elena moved to the balcony, spotting Sebastian returning from his early morning jog. She couldn't explain it, but there was a strange comfort in simply watching him, a man she had once only known by name but was now deeply entangled with.

After freshening up, Elena joined breakfast in the grand dining hall, where Mason was briefing Sebastian on the gala logistics.

"Media will be present at the red carpet entrance," Mason was saying, "and the top industrialists have confirmed their attendance." His eyes shifted slightly when Elena entered. "Mrs. Hart, your appearance is trending on Oakridge's gossip channels."

"Let them talk," Sebastian said smoothly before Elena could respond.

Elena smiled quietly to herself, her fingers toying with the edge of her teacup.

---

Meanwhile, across Oakridge, Julia fumed in frustration as the smear campaigns she'd initiated failed to gain traction. Too many influential figures were retracting their statements, seemingly bought or persuaded by an unseen hand.

At the same time, Vance, the shadowy broker she'd hired, was growing increasingly impatient.

"You're dealing with a player far sharper than you anticipated," Vance warned during a private meeting. "You might want to consider more… aggressive alternatives."

Julia's nails dug into her palms. "Then we'll get aggressive. I don't care how—before that gala, I want Elena humiliated."

---

Unaware of the brewing schemes, Elena made her final preparations for the gala. Her gown was perfected, her hair appointments confirmed, and her new business ventures slowly stabilizing.

This time, she wasn't just attending as Mrs. Hart.

She was attending as a woman who was rewriting the rules—one silent victory at a time.

And Oakridge wasn't ready for the storm that was coming.

___________________

The night of the Oakridge Business Gala arrived with an air of unmistakable expectation. The entire city seemed to buzz with anticipation as the most powerful figures in the business world, celebrities, and socialites gathered at the opulent O'Hare Estate. The venue, gilded and sprawling, was alive with luxury—exquisite chandeliers, champagne fountains, and glittering gowns.

Outside the estate, sleek limousines lined up in a perfectly choreographed sequence, each one carrying high-profile guests dressed to perfection. Elena had prepared for this night meticulously, knowing it wasn't just another gala—it was her stage.

Sebastian, had arrived first, flanked by a sea of reporters, his usual stoic expression unwavering. He greeted a few key partners and waved off the media, but his eyes were constantly scanning the crowd, as if waiting for something… or someone.

Finally, just as the evening reached its peak, a sleek black limousine pulled up at the entrance. The paparazzi's cameras clicked furiously as Elena emerged. Her midnight-blue gown, designed specifically for this night, shimmered under the estate's grand lights. The fitted bodice, adorned with silver threads, contrasted perfectly with the flowing train, which trailed behind her like a dark river.

The reporters gasped, and the whispers started almost immediately: "Who is she?" "Is this Mrs. Hart?" Even those closest to Sebastian, who had always known him to attend solo, couldn't help but stare. This wasn't just his wife—it was Elena Hart, standing confidently in her own right.

Sebastian was there waiting, his gaze falling on her as she walked towards him, each step purposeful. There was something different about the way she carried herself now—more assertive, more in control. Her quiet confidence made her the center of attention as she finally reached him.

He held out his arm with a small, appreciative smile. "You've certainly made an impression."

Elena's eyes sparkled as she accepted his arm. "Just getting started."

The room felt electric as they made their way through the sea of people, a perfect image of power and grace. But as they passed through the crowd, Elena could feel eyes following them—curious, calculating, and in some cases, even envious.

"Here you are," a familiar voice interrupted. It was Noah, Sebastian's younger brother, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he stepped toward them. "I have to admit, this is the last thing I expected tonight—Sebastian bringing his wife as the main event." He gave a playful bow. "I can't say I'm disappointed."

Sebastian shot him a look, but there was no malice behind it ,only slight exasperation. "Don't start, Noah."

Elena smiled at the banter. "I hope I don't disappoint, Noah."

Before Noah could respond, Julia Moore appeared, flanked by two high-society companions. She wore an extravagant gown, but her eyes were sharp as she glared at Elena. It wasn't just the gown—there was venom in her look. It was a silent challenge.

Julia's voice cut through the air. "So, this is the new Mrs. Hart? Quite the entrance, but you'll need more than a pretty dress to make your mark in Oakridge."

Elena's lips curled into a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "We'll see about that."

Julia eyed her, then glanced at Sebastian, who was standing close by. A moment of tension lingered before Julia turned, her companions following closely behind. she walked away, knowing the battle was far from over.

The gala was in full swing by now—guests were mingling, discussing deals, enjoying the entertainment, and sipping on champagne. But Elena had a different goal tonight. As the evening progressed, she made her rounds—strategic, calculated. She spoke with investors, struck new deals, and began making her mark on Oakridge's elite. She wasn't just a decoration on Sebastian's arm anymore; she was a force to be reckoned with.

As the clock neared midnight, Sebastian finally excused himself from a group of old business associates and approached Elena, who had just finalized an agreement with a potential business partner. He slid a glass of champagne into her hand, his gaze soft but intense.

"You've handled yourself brilliantly tonight," he said, his tone low but filled with meaning.

Elena met his gaze, a spark of something unspoken passing between them. "I'm just getting started."