Chapter 15: The Breaking Point

Elena's pov 

I stare at my phone, my thumb hovering over Alexander's name, and something inside me just breaks.

…. not the dramatic kind of breaking where you cry and scream, but the quiet kind where you realize you've been begging someone to love you and they just won't.

I lock my phone and set it face down on the kitchen counter, two weeks of calling him first, texting him first, apologizing for things I'm not even sure I did wrong.

….and for what, for silence, for one-word responses, for the cold shoulder that feels more like a knife in my back.

"Mama, look," Julian says, rolling his toy truck across the marble floor, and I force a smile because he doesn't deserve to see me falling apart.

"That's wonderful, baby," I say, kneeling down to watch him play, and maybe this is enough, maybe Julian and I can just be enough for each other.

My phone buzzes and I expect Alexander's name, but it's Marcus, he's been calling every other day since we got here, just checking in, making sure I'm okay, and honestly he's the only person who seems to care.

"Elena, how are you holding up?" his voice is warm when I answer, concerned in a way that makes my chest ache.

"I'm fine," I lie, watching Julian crash his truck into the table leg, "just trying to keep busy."

"You don't sound fine," Marcus says gently, "you sound tired, when was the last time you left that estate?"

I laugh but it comes out bitter, "I don't know, a week maybe, there's nowhere to go out here."

"Come to the city," he says, casually like it's the easiest thing in the world.

 "Have lunch with me, bring Julian, let me take you somewhere fun, you can't stay locked up forever Elena."

I hesitate, "Alexander won't like that, he's already angry about everything."

"You're not his prisoner," Marcus cuts in, his voice firm but kind.

"You're allowed to have lunch in the city, you're allowed to have friends, it's not a crime Elena."

And something about those words hits me hard, because he's right….

 When did I become someone who needs permission, the gates aren't locked, I can leave anytime I want.

"Okay," I hear myself say, "okay, lunch sounds nice."

We meet at this little place in SoHo, bright and cheerful with kids' menus that have crayons and coloring pages.

 Julian is so excited he practically bounces in his seat, and Marcus is perfect with him, asking about his trucks, making silly voices, treating my son like he matters.

"You're good with kids," I say, sipping my water, and Marcus looks at me with those dark eyes that seem to see right through me.

"I like kids," he says, "and I like making you smile, you haven't smiled like this in weeks Elena."

We talk about everything and nothing, he asks about my foundation work, listens when I tell him about the girls we've helped.

 He doesn't check his phone once, just gives me his full attention like I'm the most interesting person in the world, and I realize I can't remember the last time Alexander looked at me like this.

"Thank you," I say when we're leaving, Julian holding my hand, "I needed this more than I knew."

Marcus smiles, warm and genuine, "You deserve to be treated well Elena, don't forget that."

We're walking to my car when I notice them, photographers across the street with their long lenses pointed right at us, my stomach drops because I know how this will look.

"Don't worry," Marcus says, noticing my expression, "you didn't do anything wrong."

But an hour later my phone exploded with texts, all from Alexander, each one angrier than the last. 

I sat in the car with Julian in his car seat behind me, watching message after message light up my screen.

What the hell are you doing?

Get back to Connecticut immediately.

You're embarrassing this entire family.

My hands shake as I type back, and for the first time in two weeks, I let myself be angry.

I had lunch with a friend, I'm allowed to have friends, or do you control that too?

His response is immediate, Marcus Rivera is NOT your friend, he's using you to get to me, get home NOW.

Something snaps inside me.

I'll come home when YOU ask me properly, when you treat me like a wife instead of property, until then I'll do what I want.

I hang up before he can respond, turn off my phone completely, and look at Marcus who followed me to the parking garage, his face concerned.

"I don't know why I keep fighting for a marriage that doesn't exist," I say, and my voice cracks.

 "He doesn't want me, he just wants to control me, and I'm so tired Marcus."

Marcus steps closer, takes my hand across the space between us, his touch warm and steady.

"Maybe it's time to stop fighting for him and start fighting for yourself," he says softly.

 "You deserve to be happy Elena, you deserve someone who sees how incredible you are."

I drive back to Connecticut in a daze, Julian sleeping in the backseat, and all I can think about is Marcus's hand in mine, the way he looked at me like I mattered.

The estate is dark when we arrive, empty like always, and I carry Julian upstairs, tuck him into bed, then walk back down to check my email.

But there's one email that makes my blood run cold, from Thomas Grayson, Alexander's lawyer.

Mrs. Harrington, per Mr. Harrington's instructions, your access to the Connecticut estate will be restricted effective immediately pending marriage counseling requirements….

…..please arrange to collect your and Julian's belongings tomorrow, temporary accommodations have been arranged at the Plaza Hotel under your name, all expenses covered.

I read it three times, each time not quite believing what I'm seeing…

He's kicking us out, not even calling me himself, just having his lawyer deliver the news like I'm some kind of problem to be handled, my phone rings and I jump.

Marcus's name flashing on the screen.

"Elena?" his voice sounds urgent, worried, "I just heard through business channels that Alexander's making….”