Chapter 81 The Matchmaking Plan
Chapter 81 The Matchmaking Plan
The night grew deeper, but Elijah Blackwood's sapphire blue eyes remained fixed sharply on the expanse of Manhattan's skyscrapers, slowly turning white under the accumulating snow. It had been a full year since this grand charade had unfolded in New York.
Three hundred and sixty-five days had passed since he first disguised himself as a poor man working as a gigolo with a genius intellect, all to draw Elena Vance into his absolute protective perimeter.
To the outside world, Elijah was the highest dragon, a cyber ruler through the Apex Sovereign network capable of crumbling Wall Street's financial caste in seconds.
But inside the warm bedroom of The Azure apartment, he was merely a lover who favored his signature plaid flannel shirts, willing to forge hundreds of corporate documents to hide his true identity from Elena.
Elijah glanced briefly toward the bed through the slightly open balcony glass door. There, Elena lay sleeping soundly, hugging the velvet pillow where Elijah usually rested his head.
The love and absolute possessive obsession increasingly locking their fate together made Elijah flash his most charming lopsided smile.
Over this past year, he had frozen dozens of branch family assets, driven away his own father disguised in an ice cream truck, and suppressed Morgan Valdez's movements in London, keeping him frozen for the remaining two years.
However, that veiled peace would not last long if Alaric Blackwood still held influence in lower Manhattan.
Elijah's biological father was truly at the brink of total frustration, having run out of ideas to separate his son from Elena. Every form of threat—from corporate credit card blocks to ridiculous bear-mascot kidnapping operations in Central Park—had failed completely, destroyed both cybernetically and physically by Apex Sovereign's perimeter team.
The next day, inside the main hall of the Blackwood clan's magnificent Upper East Side residence, the atmosphere felt deeply intimidating.
Alaric Blackwood sat in his great chair, massaging his throbbing nose bridge while staring at his family foundation's financial report, which had just been scrambled by his son's cyber system the night before.
"That unfilial son, he's really locked all my movements!" Alaric grumbled irritably, throwing his digital device onto the marble table.
"One year! It's been a full year he's been spending my corporate cash just to fund that Vance woman's little studio in SoHo! If we don't act drastically, he'll bring down the entire main clan's dignity just to be that woman's loyal servant!"
"Then what's your ridiculous plan this time, Alaric?" a crisp yet ice-cold voice cut in from the hall's entrance.
Victoria Blackwood stepped in wearing her black silk gown, radiating the highest tier of luxury.
The main Blackwood empress had just returned from her visit to Elena Vance Atelier yesterday afternoon, and deep down, she knew that Elena's mental fortitude would not be easily shattered.
However, the main clan's ego still could not allow a woman still legally bound in marriage to the Valdez clan to become the future companion of their crown prince.
"This time it's not a ridiculous plan, Victoria!" Alaric straightened his aged body, his eyes gleaming with thick cunning.
"I've contacted your close friend, Lord Julian Sterling from London. His daughter, Vivian Sterling, just landed at JFK an hour ago on her private jet."
Hearing the name Vivian Sterling, Victoria Blackwood halted her steps, raising one eyebrow with deep interest.
The Sterling family was the number one raw diamond business ruler in Northern Europe, and their bloodline was equivalent to the highest caste of British aristocracy.
Most importantly, Vivian Sterling was a woman known for her icy cold beauty, ruthlessness, and perfectionism—a perfect replica of the ideal daughter-in-law standard desired by the main Blackwood clan.
"You want to use a political arrangement to drag Elijah out of his charade?" Victoria asked, calculating.
"Of course!" Alaric chuckled lowly, a laugh full of foolish blind confidence.
"Vivian is not an ordinary woman who can be intimidated by Apex Sovereign's cyber bluffs. She holds majority shares in the London Stock Exchange, which is currently squeezing Morgan Valdez's remaining Mayfair assets."
"If Elijah sees that Vivian could bring trillions in profit and eliminate Morgan instantly without waiting another two years, his genius brain will surely choose to come home and leave his torn flannel behind!"
Meanwhile, the winter snow grew thicker, blanketing the SoHo district. Inside the first floor of Elena Vance Atelier, Elena was busy arranging several raw gemstones on her black marble counter.
Her focus was entirely on the draft of the ten-carat pink diamond tiara commissioned by Victoria Blackwood, which had to be completed within a month—a new order, and one that was extremely draining on both time and energy.
Elijah sat at the back bar, wearing his favorite red plaid flannel shirt, making a cup of hot chocolate for Elena with the calm of an ordinary, deeply protective man.
However, that comfort was suddenly disturbed when the silver bell above the large teak door chimed softly.
The door opened, and a sudden gust of cold European air swept in, carrying the thick, expensive scent of black rose perfume.
A tall, slender young woman stepped in with the elegance of a snow queen.
She wore a pristine white cashmere coat lined with mink fur, with knee-high leather boots that clicked firmly against the white marble floor. Her sunglasses were removed with one finger movement adorned by a rare blue diamond ring, revealing a pair of sharp, cold gray eyes full of the highest caste dominance.
She was Vivian Sterling.
Elena jolted, her designer instincts immediately detecting that the woman before her was no ordinary client, but a high-level social predator with massive international influence.
"Welcome to Elena Vance Atelier, Miss," Elena greeted warmly, forcing her best professional smile.
"Is there anything I can assist you with for your exclusive collection today?"
Vivian Sterling did not look at Elena at all. Her gray eyes immediately locked onto the tall figure behind the back bar counter—the man in the red plaid flannel shirt who was currently holding a coffee cup, his firm jaw tensing perfectly.
A thin smile, full of victory and thick cunning, etched onto Vivian's rosy red lips.
"Long time no see, Elijah," Vivian Sterling said, her voice flowing with a thick London aristocratic accent, echoing loudly in the soundproof silence of the SoHo studio.