Chapter 6

Anson's words left a tight ache in Eleanor's chest. Instead of backing off, she let out a low laugh and stepped closer.

"You're right."

She reached up and pinched his chin, her thumb brushing across his cheek, her voice slow and unhurried.

"Anson, you really were made to be someone's lover. You've got a face that drives people wild. Several of the women in there just told me that if I ever get bored of you, they'd love to take you off my hands."

She paused and leaned in close to his ear, her breath hot against his skin.

"One of them offered to trade me a plot of land in Ambermoor for you. Another offered a deal she just closed, worth over $100 million."

Anson calmly turned his head, pulled free of her hand, and spoke casually.

"Really? I guess I'm worth quite a lot, then."

Eleanor's eyes went sharp. She jerked her head up and bit the corner of his mouth, hard enough that Anson winced.

"Aren't you afraid I'll actually give you away? You know how it works in our circle. Lovers get passed around."

She stared at him, emotions he could not read churning in her eyes, and sighed.

"Anson, you're counting on the fact that I love you too much to let you go."

Anson's stomach roiled with alcohol and disgust. As she went on about how much she loved him, all he felt was weariness.

"You love me?" He let out a soft, sarcastic laugh. "Eleanor, your love comes cheap. You can hand it out to Gabriel, to Rory, to anyone you like.

"When you think about it, it's not really fair. I used to be foolish enough to love only you. Maybe I should find out what it's like to play the field too."

Eleanor's face went completely cold, and her gaze turned dark and menacing.

"Are you serious?"

Anson nodded calmly.

Eleanor stared at him for a few seconds, then suddenly let out a cold laugh. The next second, she yanked open the door to the private room and shoved him inside.

Her cold gaze swept over the heiresses in the room, and her tone was careless.

"He's yours for the night. Have fun with him."

With that, she slammed the door shut.

Anson stood frozen for a few seconds before it sank in. Eleanor had actually given him away.

He turned to leave, but an arm slid around his waist.

"Mr. Castellan, what's the rush?"

Anson shook the arm off and stepped back, his voice turning cold.

"I'm not Rory Castellan. I'm Anson Lyndhurst."

The women froze and exchanged glances.

The room fell into an awkward silence for a few seconds before someone let out an uneasy laugh. "Wait, is Eleanor playing some kind of joke on us?"

Anson turned to leave again.

Just then, the door swung open once more.

Another heiress walked in, chattering away. "You'll never guess what I just saw.

"Eleanor's husband came to pick her up himself, and you should have seen how lovey-dovey she was with him. She also said tomorrow is their seventh anniversary and she booked out the whole rooftop restaurant, so she's turning down every invitation."

The way the women looked at Anson changed.

"Pretending to be her husband?" one of them sneered. "That takes some nerve."

"Let's help Eleanor teach this clueless boy toy a lesson."

Anson opened his mouth to explain, but they had already dragged him back.

He fought with everything he had, and they only held him down harder.

Someone gripped his chin and forced a drink down his throat. He choked and coughed as he swallowed, and his throat burned.

The drink had been spiked. As his mind began to blur, he watched the lights on the ceiling spin.

It was a night of chaos.

He could not remember how many of them there were or what he had shouted. All he remembered was the pain, which was everywhere.

When he woke up the next day, it was already dusk outside.

Anson forced himself up. His whole body felt as if it had been hit by a truck.

He splashed water on his face, put on his torn shirt, and pushed the door open.

The nightclub had not opened for business yet for the day, so the hallway was empty.

He took out his phone and turned it on. The first notification was a newly breaking headline from Saltmere News.

[Vandermeer Group Head Celebrates Seventh Anniversary with Husband over Rooftop Dinner as Fireworks Light Up the Harbor All Night]

In the photo, the woman gazed at Rory with tender adoration, exactly the way she had once looked at Anson.

Anson scoffed and swiped the notification away.

The next message was from his lawyer.

[Mr. Lyndhurst, the divorce decree has been issued. You can come pick it up anytime.]

The tension Anson had carried in his shoulders for days finally eased, and he let out a long breath.

After collecting the divorce decree from the law firm, he went back to the slums and packed up his belongings and documents. He looked at the run-down rental, now fenced off and about to be demolished, and felt nothing at all.

All the love and hatred and heartache between them had finally turned to ashes.

That evening, he boarded the first available flight to Westmarch.

As the plane slowly rose into the sky, brilliant fireworks suddenly burst outside the window and lit up the night sky over the harbor.

Anson's face was expressionless as he pulled down the window shade, closed his eyes, and leaned back in his seat.

When he opened them again, it would be the beginning of his new life.