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Chapter Sixteen

Author: Gabby Emmanuel
last update publish date: 2026-08-19 23:05:30
Imogen

I assumed returning the ring would bring an end to the matter.

I expected that handing the band back to Francis would force him to acknowledge our marriage was over. He had spent years acting as though living with me was an inconvenient burden. When the initial separation papers were presented in the hospital room, his primary concern had been the public embarrassment of a scene.

So when Eugene's lead attorney, Miller, walked into the breakfast room at eight in the morning with a black
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  • DIVORCED, I RETURNED TO MY POWERFUL BROTHERS.   Chapter Forty-Eight

    ImogenBreakfast at the Reddin estate was usually loud, but this morning it sounded like a hostile takeover disguised as a victory lap."I’ll have the foundation cover the catalog printing, the opening night reception, and the private security detail," Eugene declared before I had even poured cream into my coffee. He was typing one-handed on his tablet, his tailored sleeves already rolled back. "We’ll hire the best catering firm from Paris, fly in the press, and—""Eugene, stop," I said, setting the ceramic creamer down hard on the marble. "Stop typing right now."He paused, looking up with that classic, deadpan CEO stare. "It's just standard support from the foundation, Imogen.""It's an art exhibition, not a damn political summit!" I shoved a piece of toast onto my plate, glaring down the island. "I told Evelyn Cross yes because she liked my work. Not because she wanted a Reddin Foundation gala where fifty rich guys in tuxedos drink champagne and ignore the walls. I am organizing th

  • DIVORCED, I RETURNED TO MY POWERFUL BROTHERS.   Chapter Forty-Seven

    Imogen“You look breathtaking, Imogen," he said, his voice dropping into that low, warm register that made the noise in my head stop dead."Thanks," I whispered, sliding my palm into his, feeling the steady heat of his fingers wrap around mine. "Let's leave before Shannon tries to put bulletproof plates in your glove box."The Metropolitan Modern Pavilion was buzzing with energy when we arrived.Massive glass walls, amber spotlights washing over concrete pillars, and hundreds of people drinking champagne while discussing spatial abstraction.For the first hour, it was an whirlwind. Adrian kept his hand lightly resting on the small of my back, guiding me through the crowd, introducing me to contemporary painters from Berlin, sculptors from Chicago, and independent museum directors.And the incredible thing? Nobody asked me about Francis.Nobody brought up the tabloids or whispered behind their glasses about the poor, broken girl who got carved up in a private hospital. They wanted to k

  • DIVORCED, I RETURNED TO MY POWERFUL BROTHERS.   Chapter Forty-Six

    Imogen"If one more person walks into this bedroom without knocking, I am stabbing someone in the neck with an eyebrow pencil. I am dead serious."I was standing in front of the vanity in my slip, gripping the edge of the wood until my knuckles went white."The neckline on the navy gown is too high, Minnie, it makes you look like a Victorian governess who’s about to lecture people on penmanship," Brett declared from the armchair in the corner. He had three garment bags slung over his knee, chewing on a piece of licorice like he was the lead stylist at Fashion Week. "You're going as Adrian King's date to a contemporary art launch, not a Sunday school fundraiser. Wear the emerald velvet. It shows off your back.""I am not showing off my back, Brett! I have a surgical graft on my flank, remember?!""And you survived it, which makes it badass," he shot back without missing a beat. "Wear the emerald.""She shouldn't wear anything that puts pressure on her chest," Klint’s voice cut in flatl

  • DIVORCED, I RETURNED TO MY POWERFUL BROTHERS.   forty-five

    Imogen's POV"I have two canvases that need a final varnish coat by Tuesday, Eugene. I can't just take off for the weekend."I had my phone tucked between my ear and my shoulder while I wiped my palette knife with a rag. The studio was a mess of turpentine bottles and drying racks, and the last thing I wanted to think about was packing an overnight bag."The varnish will dry without your supervision, Imogen," Eugene's voice came through the speaker, calm and unhurried. "A car is arriving at Mercer Street at ten. Pack comfortable clothes. We are spending two days at the lake lodge.""Eugene, no—""Give me the phone," Shannon grunted in the background.There was a brief scuffle, followed by the sound of fabric rustling. Then Shannon was on the line, his voice dropping into that familiar rasp."Minnie."I sighed and tossed the rag onto the counter. "Shannon, I'm in the zone. If I stop now, I'll lose my momentum.""You haven't slept more than five hours a night since the Zurich preview,"

  • DIVORCED, I RETURNED TO MY POWERFUL BROTHERS.   Chapter Forty-Four

    Imogen"I have two canvases that need a final varnish coat by Tuesday, Eugene. I can't just take off for the weekend."I had my phone tucked between my ear and my shoulder while I wiped my palette knife with a rag. The studio was a battlefield of turpentine bottles and drying racks, and the last thing my brain could handle was packing an overnight bag."The varnish will dry without your supervision, Imogen," Eugene's voice came through the speaker, crisp, unhurried, and indifferent to my panic. "A car is arriving at Mercer Street at ten. Pack comfortable clothes. We are spending two days at the lake lodge.""Eugene, no—""Give me the phone," Shannon grunted in the background. There was a muffled scuffle, a rustle of fabric, and then Shannon was on the line, his voice dropping into that low rasp. "Minnie."I sighed and tossed the rag onto the counter. "Shannon, I'm in the zone. If I stop now, the momentum dies.""You haven't slept more than five hours a night since the Zurich preview,"

  • DIVORCED, I RETURNED TO MY POWERFUL BROTHERS.   Chapter Forty-Three

    ImogenI was five seconds away from locking myself in the bathroom and faking the stomach flu."Eugene, take the cufflinks off. You look like you're about to question a crooked politician," I snapped, pacing back and forth across the rug in the sitting room.Eugene adjusted the gold links at his wrists with cold, infuriating care. "It is a normal dinner, Imogen. I am dressed properly.""You're wearing a three-piece suit in your own house on a Thursday night!""He's establishing dominance, Minnie, let him live," Brett snorted from the sofa, tossing a coaster up and catching it. "Though personally, I think Shannon's combat boots send a clearer message. Namely: I have buried men in shallow graves and I'll do it again."I whirled on Shannon. He leaned against the fireplace, arms crossed, scowling at the front entryway like he expected a hit squad instead of a thirty-one-year-old art curator holding a bottle of wine."Shannon, please," I begged, pressing the heels of my hands against my te

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