Chapter Forty Eight.

ELOISE.

My feet carried me up the grand staircase, each step a small, trembling victory. The adrenaline from my confrontation with Isabella was a fire in my veins, burning away the last traces of the timid woman I used to be. My heart was a frantic drum against my ribs, and my hands shook, but I kept my back straight. I didn't run, I walked. I reached the safe space of our bedroom and closed the door softly behind me, the click of the latch sounding like a final, definitive statement.

I leaned against the cool wood, my breath coming in gasps. My gaze fell on my reflection in the full-length mirror. The woman staring back at me was exhausted, she had tired eyes, but the flicker of hope I'd seen this morning had been joined by a fierce, protective glint.

I had stood up to someone that reminded me of Damian's mother so much, a woman who saw me as nothing but a womb to hire, an inconvenience to be paid off and discarded, and I had said no, and that to me was a victory in more ways than