### Chapter 42 Avery’s mind was a whirlpool of thoughts, but one question loomed larger than the rest: Would she have been just another mistress if that other woman had still been alive? And if she was gone, did that mean she had become a mere substitute? The realization twisted in her heart, leaving a bitter aftertaste that was impossible to swallow. As Avery wrestled with her turbulent feelings, Elliot’s mind was no less chaotic. With an enigmatic expression that could rival any riddle, he took out his cigarette box, his fingers dancing around the unlit sticks like thoughts that struggled to find their voice. “Tell me, what exactly do you like about Cole?” he asked, his voice low, almost tainted with curiosity mixed with jealousy. Avery’s response came quick and ice-cold. “I don’t like him anymore.” Previously, she might have used Cole’s name as a blade to wound Elliot, hoping to spark a reaction from him. Yet, after their earlier conversation, she was reminded of the childishness of such games. Elliot’s temper was like a hair-trigger—ready to go off at the slightest provocation, and she refused to let herself be dragged into that madness again. “Is that because you figured out he’s really just a penniless loser?” Elliot shot back, pinching a cigarette between his fingers, a hint of derision in his tone. “Is money all that occupies your mind?” Avery countered, her voice rising with indignation. “When Cole pursued me, he used to write me love letters daily. He’d whisk me off to art galleries and music recitals on weekends. We shared the most profound conversations…” “Sounds like a pretentious farce to me! The only thing he’s ever wanted was to get into a woman’s pants, and look at him—his business life is a wreck. What you call wonderful was nothing less than a cruel joke!” Elliot’s impatience broke through, his words sharp as a dagger. “Have you always had such a pristine view of maturity and success?” Avery shot back, her eyes narrowing. “At fifteen, I had a crush on cute boys. At sixteen, I liked the smart ones. Seventeen brought basketball players into the mix. At eighteen, I craved talent… I loved Cole once. Those memories are mine, and even if my feelings have soured now, they were real in their time.” “Enough!” Elliot’s voice thundered through the space, snapping his cigarette in half as his eyes blazed with cold fury. “Go back to your room!” With lips pressed tight, Avery stood, the tension in the air thick enough to slice through. Yet, instead of retreating to the confines of her room, she glided toward the dining area, her stomach still gnawing with hunger. “Is there anything to eat, Mrs. Cooper?” she inquired, her tone calm and collected, as if the confrontation with Elliot had never occurred. Without hesitation, Mrs. Cooper set to work, preparing dinner for her. Avery settled at the dining table, her phone buzzing to life with a series of texts from Tammy that pulled her gaze. Tammy: (The party’s over! He’s not my type—just a bit too soft for me. Not to mention, it seemed he wasn’t that into me either. Probably pressured by his family to ask me out for dinner next time.) Tammy: [He claims his parents don’t give him much pocket money! How could he possibly have two hundred million? Was there a misunderstanding?] Tammy: [I’m planning to have dinner with him this weekend! I need to get to the bottom of this. By the way, why did you leave in such a hurry?] Avery's fingers swiftly typed in response: (It’s a long story. I’ll fill you in once I figure it out.) No sooner had she sent her message than her phone rang—a call from Tammy. Panic surged within her. She glanced at the living room; Elliot was still there, and a word now would echo through the air, risking eavesdropping from his prying ears. Avery quickly declined the call and sent a follow-up message: [Can’t talk right now. Let’s meet on campus tomorrow!] Later that night, after a long shower that couldn’t quite wash away the day’s tension, Elliot strode back and forth in his room, clad in a gray silk robe that hung loosely from his athletic frame. His restless energy buzzed, spurred by a question that danced dangerously around his mind, carving worry into his brow and squeezing at his heart. Without warning, he pulled out his phone and dialed Chad, urgency saturating his voice. “Chad, look into any art exhibitions or recitals happening tomorrow. Find something in the afternoon or evening.” “Yes, sir,” Chad responded, a note of surprise threading through his tone. “Is there a specific type of exhibition or recital you prefer?” Elliot was momentarily taken aback, caught off-guard by the inquiry. Galleries? Concert halls? These were foreign lands to him, and even now, his interest was tepid at best. “Just find something that women would enjoy,” he remarked, trying to mask the unfamiliarity of the request. “Yes, sir. Though, different women have different tastes…” Chad’s voice trailed, clearly bemused by the strange task he’d been handed—something wholly inconceivable from the usually unfazed Elliot. And so, as the evening slipped away, the lines drawn between love, jealousy, and past regrets began to blur. In their clash, shadows of their hearts laid bare, calling forth actions that would unravel in the days to come.