Chapter 223

Chapter 223

Those legendary Elysian's classic works, those designs imitated by countless people yet never surpassed, those original manuscripts sold for astronomical prices at auctions.

The handwriting on the drafts was identical to Harper's.

Rupert's legs gave out. He collapsed into a chair.

His mind went completely blank.

Harper was Elysian?

That woman he'd always looked down on, that castoff he'd thought was worthless.

Was the legendary top mysterious designer talked about in design circles for years?

He remembered his attitude toward her all these years.

When she started design work, he thought she was just wasting time.

But now he finally knew.

Those things he'd once been so proud of—president of the Getty Group, a fortune worth tens of millions—were nothing compared to Elysian.

Rupert suddenly laughed. That smile looked worse than crying.

Elowen, impatient from waiting outside, pushed the door open. "What's wrong? What did you find?"

She walked to the computer and looked at the screen.

Then she froze too. "This... this is..."

She looked at those documents, those contracts, those design drafts. Like being struck by lightning, she stood frozen in place.

Harper was Elysian?

That woman she'd always wanted to crush, that woman she thought had only won through luck, was Elysian?

Elowen's legs went weak. She leaned against the wall.

She remembered her bold proclamations when returning to the country, saying she'd claim the title of the country's top designer, that she'd crush Harper.

She'd thought she had talent, connections, capital—that beating her would be effortless.

Now she suddenly realized she wasn't even qualified to compare herself to Harper.

That was Elysian.

The existence that everyone in their circle looked up to.

Rupert suddenly stood up and grabbed the documents from the desk. "Let's go."

Elowen asked blankly, "Where?"

Rupert's eyes gleamed with madness. "To find her. I need to ask her in person—I was her husband! Why did she hide this from me? Why did she deceive me? I'll let her know that I'm aware of her secret now!"

He rushed out.

On the third floor, Harper's office light was still on.

It was past 2 AM, yet she was still here.

Her silhouette reflected on the window glass, slender yet upright.

When Rupert rushed up, the door was ajar. He kicked it open and charged in.

Harper sat behind her desk, pen in hand, seemingly drawing something.

Hearing the commotion, she looked up. Seeing it was him, her brow furrowed.

In the middle of the night, why would Rupert be here? She instinctively reached for the pepper spray in her drawer.

"Harper!" Rupert slammed the documents on the desk. "What is this? You explain this to me!"

Documents scattered across the floor.

Harper glanced down at them, then looked up at him.

Her gaze was so calm, as if looking at a clown. "You saw it all? So what?"

Rupert's teeth ground audibly, veins bulging on his forehead. "You lied to me! You've been lying to me all along! You're Elysian—why didn't you tell me? You watched me like a fool, watched me messed up in front of you, watched me treat you like trash. Did you feel proud? Did you find it funny?"

Harper smiled calmly. "Yes."

She admitted it directly.

Elowen stood in the doorway, trembling all over.

She looked at Harper, at that calm face, and suddenly felt very afraid.

This woman was too terrifying, hiding so deeply.

Harper's gaze passed over Rupert and landed on Elowen. "You came too? Perfect. Saves me looking for you one by one."

Elowen's lips trembled. "You... what do you want?"

"What do I want? I should be asking you that." Harper pulled out a file from her drawer and tossed it on the desk.

Photos of Rupert and Elowen meeting, crystal clear, each with time and location.

The parking lot photo—Elowen wore a mask, but those eyes were recognizable.

The suburban park photo—Rupert's face was deathly pale in the moonlight, clearly visible.

Plus Elowen's cash withdrawal records, transfer receipts—every transaction matched up.

Dates, amounts, banks, teller numbers—everything was there.

"You... you..." Elowen stammered, fear rising within her.

"From the day my mother's grave was destroyed, I knew it was you two. During that time, who else had a grudge against me and could do such things besides you?"

"I've been waiting all this time for you to walk into the trap yourselves. Destroying my mother's grave, sabotaging my exhibition, spreading rumors to frame me for tax evasion—I remember every single thing you did. The evidence—I prepared it long ago."

Rupert's mind went blank.

He remembered his behavior just now—barging in, interrogating, threatening. Then falling into Harper's hands.

Elowen suddenly dropped to her knees. "Harper, I was wrong! I was truly wrong! Rupert forced me to do those things—it was his idea! Destroying the grave was his thought, sabotaging the exhibition—he hired those people, and he made me provide the money! I didn't do anything—I just contributed some money! Please let me go, okay?"

She knelt on the floor, tears covering her face, looking as wretched as a dog.

Harper looked at her, not a trace of sympathy in her eyes. "Elowen, even now, you're still avoiding responsibility?"

Elowen froze.

Harper continued, "Rupert was wrong, but you weren't? Those transfers—you personally withdrew that money. That money—you personally handed it to him. Everything you did has evidence. avoiding responsibility? will not work?"

Elowen collapsed on the floor, unable to say a word.

Rupert suddenly laughed.

That laugh was both mad and desperate. "Harper, you're really something. I never saw through you. I was married to you for three years, yet I never knew you hid so deeply. Elysian? Elysian. I, Rupert, was truly blind."

He pulled out the knife from his bag.

The blade gleamed coldly under the light, still wrapped in cloth. The cloth strips fell away.

"Since I can't live, you shouldn't either!" Gripping the knife, he charged at Harper.

Harper tried to dodge, but there wasn't enough time to pull out the pepper spray. She could only watch as the knife came closer and closer. The blade tip gleamed, closer and closer, closer...

Just then.

The door was violently kicked open. A figure rushed in and kicked Rupert hard.

The kick was vicious. Rupert flew backward, he crashed heavily into the wall, bounced back, and fell to the floor.

The knife flew from his hand and landed in a corner.

Alaric stood in front of Harper, his chest heaving violently.

On his arm was a long wound, blood seeping out.

Blood ran down his arm, dripping onto the floor drop by drop.

It happened when he'd kicked Rupert away—the knife had caught him.

Harper's gaze fell on that wound, her pupils suddenly contracting. "Alaric..."

Alaric turned to look at her. "Harper, are you alright?"