If she thought back far enough, it must have been in third grade. Her mother used to tell her that, as a child, she loved wearing princess dresses.

Being the firstborn-and a beautiful one at that her family dressed her like a little princess. Her closet had been filled with frilly gowns, gifts from her parents, aunts, uncles, and other relatives.

Then, at some point in fourth grade, she stopped wearing them. No matter how many new dresses she received, she always gave them away to her cousins. Eventually, everyone realized she wasn't interested, and the dresses stopped coming.

Her mother once asked why she no longer liked them. Elora had replied, "Skirts slow me down. I like to move fast."

Her mother had smiled and said she had always been decisive and strong-willed, which was why her grandparents had chosen her as the family's successor. And she hadn't let them down.

From a young age, she had shouldered the family's burdens. Under her leadership, the Ormond business hadn't just survived-it had thrived.

her. They envied her grandparents for

never told anyone about the conversations she

had sighed and lamented, "If only

she had been born a man, the eldest grandson of the Ormond family, her

capable she was, he always feared that one day she would marry, and her focus would

family was steeped in tradition. Even though her grandfather had no choice but to entrust her with the family's legacy,

her two younger brothers hadn't been born yet. They had assumed there would

that an old rival from her youth had once taunted her: "I gave birth to all sons, while yours can't even produce a grandson.” Shaking off those memories, Elora grabbed another suit and put it on. Standing before the mirror, she examined her reflection-poised, powerful, and

dark circles under her

she sat down at her vanity and carefully applied makeup to

said she would be downstairs in half an hour, and she kept her word. By the time she reached the dining room, Tatum had prepared a fresh breakfast. Today, he

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