LOGINAfter being publicly humiliated and divorced by her billionaire husband, Elena Vale spends one reckless night with a stranger to forget her pain. She never expected to discover she was pregnant… Or that the stranger was Lucien Blackwood — her ex-husband’s powerful and forbidden uncle. Cold, dangerous, and feared by everyone, Lucien offers Elena a contract marriage to protect her and the baby. But as dark family secrets begin to surface, Elena realizes her divorce was never an accident. Now trapped between a jealous ex-husband, a ruthless billionaire obsessed with her, and a family built on lies, Elena must decide if loving Lucien is worth destroying them both.
View MoreThrown Away
Elena’s POV
Three years.
That was how long I had spent trying to become the perfect Mrs. Blackwood.
Three years of smiling through loneliness.
Three years of pretending I didn’t notice my husband coming home later every night.
Three years of swallowing every insult his family threw at me because I believed that one day they would finally accept me.
Tonight was supposed to be different.
I stood in front of the full-length mirror inside the dressing room at the Blackwood Charity Gala, smoothing invisible wrinkles from my silver evening gown. Adrian had chosen the dress himself last week. He had even told me I looked beautiful in it.
It was the first compliment he’d given me in months.
I had foolishly allowed myself to hope.
Maybe this was our fresh start.
Maybe he had finally remembered the woman he married.
A soft knock came on the door.
“Mrs. Blackwood,” one of the hotel staff said politely. “The guests have arrived. Mr. Blackwood is waiting downstairs.”
“I’ll be right there.”
I took one last deep breath before forcing a smile onto my face.
No matter what happened tonight, I would stand beside my husband like I always had.
That was what wives did.
The ballroom glittered with expensive crystal chandeliers. Waiters walked through the crowd carrying champagne while reporters snapped pictures of the city’s wealthiest families.
The Blackwoods loved attention.
They loved looking perfect.
I spotted Adrian almost immediately.
He stood near the stage, wearing a perfectly tailored black tuxedo. He was handsome enough to make women stop and stare wherever he went.
Three years ago, I had believed I was the luckiest woman alive when he asked me to marry him.
Now I couldn’t remember the last time he had looked at me with love.
As if sensing my eyes on him, Adrian glanced in my direction.
For a brief second, our gazes met.
His expression remained cold.
No smile.
No warmth.
Nothing.
I walked over anyway.
“You look handsome,” I said quietly.
He barely looked at me.
“You’re late.”
“I was only—”
“It doesn’t matter.”
His voice was flat, almost bored.
“You know how important tonight is. Try not to embarrass me.”
The words stung more than I wanted to admit.
“I won’t.”
He adjusted his cufflinks without another glance at me.
Before I could say anything else, a familiar voice interrupted.
“Elena.”
I turned around.
Vanessa.
My cousin walked toward us wearing a tight red gown that hugged every curve of her body. She smiled brightly, wrapping her arms around Adrian’s arm as though it belonged there.
Something inside me tightened.
“Vanessa,” I greeted politely.
“You look lovely tonight,” she said.
“So do you.”
She laughed.
“Oh, Adrian helped me pick this dress.”
I blinked.
Adrian had taken Vanessa shopping?
He had told me he was too busy with work that day.
I looked at him, waiting for an explanation.
He simply sipped his champagne.
“I’ll see you both later,” Vanessa said sweetly before walking away.
But not before squeezing Adrian’s hand.
I stared after her.
“Since when are you two shopping together?”
Adrian sighed impatiently.
“Does it matter?”
“It does to me.”
“It’s business.”
I wanted to believe him.
I really did.
But the knot in my stomach only grew tighter.
The lights inside the ballroom suddenly dimmed.
The guests turned toward the stage.
The master of ceremonies smiled into the microphone.
“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for attending tonight’s Blackwood Charity Gala.”
Applause filled the room.
After several speeches and donations, the host looked toward Adrian.
“Now, we’d like to invite Mr. Adrian Blackwood to say a few words.”
Adrian walked confidently onto the stage.
I smiled proudly despite everything.
No matter how difficult our marriage had become, I had always supported him.
He accepted the microphone.
“Good evening.”
The room fell silent.
“I know everyone expected me to speak about tonight’s charity event.”
He paused.
“But I’d rather speak about something more personal.”
A strange feeling settled in my chest.
Adrian looked directly at me.
My smile faded.
“I believe honesty is important.”
The reporters immediately raised their cameras.
“So tonight, I’d like to officially announce the end of my marriage.”
The words hit me so hard that I stopped breathing.
Murmurs spread through the ballroom.
I stared at him, unable to move.
Surely I had misunderstood.
Surely this wasn’t happening.
“Our marriage has been over for a long time,” Adrian continued calmly. “Unfortunately, some relationships simply don’t work.”
Every eye in the room turned toward me.
Heat rushed to my face.
I wanted to disappear.
“I tried my best,” Adrian said, sounding almost sympathetic. “But I want a family. I want children.”
He looked at me again.
“My wife couldn’t give me either.”
The room exploded with whispers.
My hands trembled.
He had promised we would discuss the divorce privately.
He had promised.
Instead, he was destroying me in front of hundreds of people.
Before I could even process what was happening, Vanessa stepped onto the stage.
Adrian reached for her hand.
Gasps echoed around the ballroom.
“I’ve found someone who can give me the future I deserve,” Adrian announced.
Vanessa smiled shyly, resting a hand on her stomach.
“We’re in love.”
My vision blurred.
No.
No…
This couldn’t be real.
My own cousin.
The cousin I had trusted.
The cousin I had welcomed into my home.
Someone laughed behind me.
Another guest whispered loudly, “No wonder he divorced her.”
“I heard she couldn’t have children.”
“What a waste of three years.”
I couldn’t breathe.
Then Margaret Blackwood, Adrian’s mother, stood gracefully from her seat.
“I warned my son from the beginning,” she said loudly enough for everyone to hear. “A woman from a poor family could never be a suitable Blackwood.”
Several guests nodded.
Margaret looked directly at me.
“You failed as a wife.”
The last piece of my heart shattered.
Tears burned my eyes, but I refused to let them fall.
Not here.
Not in front of them.
Adrian signaled to one of his assistants.
The man walked toward me carrying a folder.
“Sign the divorce papers,” Adrian said into the microphone.
“Let’s end this with dignity.”
The folder felt impossibly heavy in my hands.
My fingers shook as I opened it.
Every page carried my name.
Every signature line waited for me like a final goodbye.
Three years.
Reduced to a stack of papers.
I looked up at Adrian one last time.
“Did you ever love me?”
For the first time all night, genuine emotion crossed his face.
It lasted less than a second.
“No.”
The single word sliced through me.
I lowered my head before anyone could see the tears finally escaping.
Without another word, I signed my name.
The ballroom erupted into applause.
Applause. For the end of my marriage.
I handed the papers back, turned around, and walked toward the exit as fast as my trembling legs could carry me.
No one stopped me. No one cared.
The cool night air hit my face the moment I stepped outside, but it wasn’t enough to stop the tears pouring down my cheeks.
I had lost my husband.
My family. My home. Everything.
I wrapped my arms around myself and stepped into the pouring rain, not caring that my dress was soaked within seconds.
I just needed to get away.
I didn’t know that from the highest balcony of the hotel, a pair of dark eyes never left me.
WHAT ROBERTA WRITESELENA'S POVRoberta is six and she has decided to write a book.Not a story — she is clear about this distinction. "Stories are made up," she tells me. "I want to write what is real." She has started a notebook, modelled on the ones she has seen produced by everyone around her: Clara's garden notebook, Amara's tree notebook, my legal pads, Frances's thirty-year journal. The household produces records, and Roberta has absorbed this as the correct practice, and has begun her own.Her book is about the maple. Specifically about the maple and the seedling — the relationship between the parent tree and the new growth, documented over the course of the year. She has been keeping it since April, when the seedling's second year of leaves arrived. She records the date, the weather, what she observes about each tree, and a section she calls What the Tree Knows, which is her interpretive addition to the factual record.What the Tree Knows is where it gets interesting.In May:
SIX YEARSLUCIEN'S POVSix years.Elena says it at breakfast in the way she always says it — factually, without ceremony, because naming what is true is what she does. March. The specific kitchen morning of it."Six years today," she says."Yes," I say.We drink our coffee. Roberta is getting ready for school in the specific organised way she gets ready for things, her book bag already packed, her shoes located, her coat by the door. Robert is at the table with his breakfast and his current book, which is about insects and which Amara recommended and which he has been reading in the way he reads things he finds important — slowly, returning to pages he wants to absorb fully."Tell me something you didn't know at year five," she says.It is her version of a ritual now — the annual accounting, each year taking a different form.I think about it honestly. "That the most significant inheritance is not what you give but what you permit," I say. "I have been thinking about this since Lily's
THE THIRD BOOK'S REACHELENA'S POVOne year after What the Record Owes was published, Professor Marsh sends me a document.It is a collation she has assembled over six months: a list of every academic citation, court citation, policy citation, and published review of the three books that she has been able to identify through the standard academic tracking tools. She has organised it chronologically, by jurisdiction, and by the type of use — theoretical, applied, pedagogical.The document runs forty-three pages.I read it over two evenings in November. It is the record of what the record has produced. Books cited in twelve countries. The first book cited in three criminal proceedings as historical context for the investigation of similar cases. The second book cited in the parliamentary committee report and in forty-one subsequent court proceedings and in a law review article from Australia that extended the pattern evidence argument to financial elder abuse. The third book cited in el
LILY'S FUTURELUCIEN'S POVLily qualifies as a solicitor in November.She passes her final qualification examination on the first attempt, which is not universal, and she joins the firm where she did her placement year as a newly qualified solicitor in the financial law practice. She will, in the fullness of time and with the application she brings to everything, become the solicitor who can see patterns in financial documentation that her colleagues cannot see, because she has the framework and she has been trained to look sideways.She comes to Sunday dinner the week after qualification with Daniel, who is managing to be visibly proud without performance, and Lily, who receives the household's warmth with the ease of someone who has been receiving it for three years and has stopped being surprised by its consistency.Roberta presents her with a formal document. It is handwritten, on a piece of paper she has folded into thirds and sealed with a sticker — the official presentation for
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