The Bigshot's Superstar Wife

Chapter 96: Savior

The morning sky over Asenus was painted with hues of soft lavender and pale gold.

Elara Jericho stepped out of the villa dressed in a simple white coat, a wide-brimmed hat shielding her face from the artificial sunlamps dotting the streets.

Her heart felt restless, the conversation from the previous night still echoing in her mind.

The throne war was inching closer, and her presence here might put Mors and his wife in danger as they stayed on Sinalta.

But today, she sought a distraction. The city of Velmira was known for its diverse cuisine, blending ingredients from dozens of planets into culinary masterpieces.

Elara had read about the famous Solaria Flame Noodles, served in an open-air plaza downtown. It seemed like a good place to lose herself in the anonymity of the crowd.

As she walked through the bustling streets, she marveled at the vibrancy of the city. Hovercrafts glided overhead, carrying passengers through invisible traffic lanes.

Street vendors called out their wares, glimmering crystal trinkets, spiced pastries that shimmered under the sunlamps, and holographic scarves that fluttered despite the absence of wind.

Children ran along the walkways, laughter echoing between sleek metallic buildings. Just as she reached the plaza, a deep, resonant boom shattered the peace.

The ground beneath her trembled, and the air turned hot and sharp with the metallic tang of burning materials.

A shockwave surged through the plaza, sending glass shards and debris flying. Screams replaced laughter as people scattered in panic.

Elara instinctively dropped to the ground, arms shielding her head as glass rained around her.

Smoke billowed from the far side of the plaza where a building had partially collapsed.

Flames roared from the shattered facade of a café, licking toward the sky like a hungry beast.

Adrenaline surged through her veins. She rose, coughing against the acrid smoke.

Her eyes scanned the chaos, injured civilians, some with gashes on their arms and legs, others disoriented as they staggered away from the blast site.

A faint cry pierced through the cacophony.

Elara turned toward the sound. Near the café’s entrance, partially buried under a fallen metal beam, lay a woman.

Her dress was torn and stained with blood. Her right arm was twisted unnaturally, and deep crimson spread beneath her body.

Her ash-colored hair was matted with soot, and her emerald eyes fluttered open and closed as she fought for consciousness.

Without hesitation, Elara rushed forward. The heat from the flames seared her skin as she knelt beside the woman.

"Hold on," she whispered.

Lawrence stepped closer, towering over her. His eyes dropped to the blood on her hands and coat. His lips parted as if to say something, but instead, he clenched his fists.

"You were there?" he demanded.

"Yes. I was nearby when the bomb exploded," Elara answered.

His eyes softened for a fraction of a second. "Thank you," he said. "For helping her."

Elara tilted her head, confused. "You know her?"

"She’s my mother," Lawrence said, voice tight.

Elara’s breath caught. "Your mother?"

Lawrence’s eyes flicked toward the operating room. "I was told she was in danger...but I didn’t expect this."

The puzzle pieces fell into place. The second madam of the Demerins wasn’t just any civilian.

She was one of the powerful matriarchs of the Demerin family, the hidden force behind many of the clan’s decisions. If someone had targeted her, this wasn’t random terrorism.

"This was an assassination attempt," Elara said aloud.

Lawrence didn’t deny it. "Probably," he said. "The Demerin family has made enemies. But I never expected them to go after my mother."

The door to the operating room opened with a hiss. A surgeon emerged, removing their gloves. "Major General Demerin?"

Lawrence stepped forward. "Yes. How is she?"

"Stable for now," the surgeon said. "Her arm was shattered in three places, and there was significant blood loss. But she’ll survive."

Relief sagged Lawrence’s shoulders.

Elara exhaled deeply, her heart unclenching.

"Thank you, Doctor," Lawrence said.

The surgeon left, and Lawrence turned back to Elara.

"You saved my mother’s life," he said softly. "I owe you."

"You don’t owe me anything," Elara replied.

Lawrence’s expression hardened again. "Yes, I do. And I’m going to find out who did this."

As he walked into the recovery room, Elara remained behind, heart racing. The battle for the throne was here, whether she wanted it or not.