Oliver stood behind him, holding a grand bouquet of Ecuadorian roses. The atmosphere thickened with unease as Elijah appeared. Yara's complexion paled, then flushed, but she remained silent. Instead, she offered a strained smile and asked, "Elijah, I thought you had left?"

"I merely stepped away to acquire flowers for my wife," Elijah replied, his tone detached, his eyes avoiding Yara's. "Furthermore, my wife is an only child, Miss Elizabeth. Please refrain from fabricating familial connections."

Yara was speechless, her fingernails digging into her palms. Rumors of Elijah's affection for Sandra and his impending separation from Elizabeth had flooded the internet. Yet, here he was, proclaiming Elizabeth his wife, his devotion unwavering.

Elizabeth, equally surprised, watched him approach. He discreetly signaled Oliver to present the roses. "Do you like them?" he asked, his eyes softening as they met Elizabeth's surprised yet delighted gaze—a stark contrast to his earlier iciness.

Though puzzled, Elizabeth adapted, playing her part in his apparent charade. Admiring the roses, she replied warmly, "Yes, these are my favorite." Reflecting on the past two years, she acknowledged Elijah's provision of material comfort, far exceeding what her family had offered. She couldn't bear the thought of Yara ridiculing her. Acting wasn't just a talent; it was a necessity for survival in their ruthless world.

With a dazzling smile, Elizabeth looped her arm through Elijah's and cooed, "Thank you, sweetheart." The sugary tone surprised Elijah; his body tensed, his expression complex. He silently acknowledged Elizabeth's theatrical skill, then shot an impatient look at Yara.

Yara, striving for composure, forced a smile. "Mr. James, please don't misunderstand. I overheard a comment about a divorce… I assumed there were troubles in your relationship…"

Elijah chuckled, glancing fondly at Elizabeth. "Oh, it's nothing, merely a lovers' quarrel."