Chapter two

Elara’s pov;

“My son doesn’t have to answer to you,” Mrs. Martha hissed.

I didn't shrink. I looked at Nathan and waited.

His gaze flicked to me. Guilt flashed but it was gone in a heartbeat.

“El, it’s nothing serious, I promise.” He forced a smile as Vanessa slipped her arm through his.

“I’ll be back. Then we can go home.”

I shook my head, throwing the covers over my feet and sitting up straight.

“I’m well enough to come,” I said, voice steady. “I’m your wife.”

Vanessa gave a mocking glance to that but I ignored her and attempted to stand up. A hand forcibly pushed me back down.

“Nathan and Vanessa can handle it. You should rest,” Mrs. Martha cooed.

“Listen to my mother,” Nathan said, then turned without a second glance and walked out with Vanessa.

The door shut and a sharp cry tore out of my throat.

Mrs. Martha had pinched my arm hard. “I won’t let you ruin his chance at mayor. Don’t come home today.” She hissed then headed for the door and paused.

My eyes trained on her as she half-turned, scorn on her face. “You’re riddled with bad luck. That’s why you’ve been barren”

She left.

My hand trembled against my stomach. Lungs too heavy to breathe.

Then a sad smile broke out on my face.

She didn’t know that she was wrong.

Three years of suffering had finally come to an end. I was no longer going to swallow her abuse and I was going to expose her for what she was and demand answers from my husband.

It was high time I took back, what was mine.

A nurse came to check vitals but I demanded discharge.

The doctor argued—I was fragile, bleeding internally from the fall, tumor growing—but I signed against advice. Nathan owed me answers.

The ride home was quiet, my head throbbed and abdomen twisted while my mind spiraled with early memories of my marriage.

“I promise I’ll never go into politics. I’ll never leave you behind.” His kiss on my forehead.

Why break every promise?

The mansion buzzed with people everywhere. How had this gotten so big without my notice?

I slipped through the kitchen entrance, unfamiliar maids stared in shock.

I searched for Nathan. Eyes roaming, moving stealthily through bodies of high society’s elites.

Time slowed partially. There, just in front of me—head tipped back, laughing, champagne in hand. He was dressed in a black tux I had once gifted him, golden crystals glittering under the chandelier lights giving him an expensive aura.

I moved forward, unaware of my surroundings and bumped into someone.

Glass shattered and dark liquid soaked my chest. My heart pounded against my ribs as the hall went deathly quiet.

People seemed to move back, whispers echoed harshly across the room. Slowly, my eyes peeled upward and locked gaze.

A soft gasp left my lips. Sharp jawline caught the light, a shine in his dark tousled hair.

My eyes took him in, every inch familiar. It forced my nerves to pause. His dark pupils widen in shock with an aura that should have frightened me but instead pulled me close.

Time slowed as he reached for me but my head throbbed violently. A memory flashed; Small hands intertwined with mine, rain soaking us both, voice soft…

His mouth opened. Voice cracked around a word. Soft and disbelieving.

“El—“

My breath caught, hands gripping me forcibly into the present.

“Mr. Quinn!” Vanessa’s child-like voice shattered the moment.

A soft nervous laugh escaped her throat as she drew me In fiercely. Her nails now digging into my skin.

“Our maid has no manners. Forgive us.” Vanessa’s voice rang out. “Apologize!”

But I didn’t look at her. I couldn’t, not with my gaze still locked in his.

My chest tightened as his eyes turned cold and molten.

A fierce push from behind sent me sprawling, landing on broken glass shards. A metallic scent hit me instantly, my hands trembled as red liquid slid down my wrist.

I screamed out and the crowd let out a horrified gasp, the whispers harsher.

Tears danced in my eyes making everything blurry as cameras flashed catching the smug look Vanessa gave me just before she stepped over me like dirt under her shoe.

“I apologize, Mr. Quinn. Shall I show you to the guests?”

I struggled to stand but the pain was great. My hands went to my abdomen, teeth grinding.

“Mr. Quinn?” Vanessa called, my eyes rose up to meet his gaze and something in the air stilled.

Something unseen had just tightened around the throats of the guests.

“You insolent girl,” I whipped up my head to find Vanessa’s hand hanging mid-air in a slap meant for me.

Mr Quinn’s jaw ticked and his eyes were molten.

“You dare?” He questioned then shoved her. The camera flashes had stopped then, people shifted on their feet.

Someone grabbed my arm, forcing me to stand to my feet. My eyes connected with Nathan’s and widened in surprise.

His hands trembled where it held me by the arm, his eyes solely focused on Mr Quinn.

Mrs Martha went for Vanessa, guiding her away from the guests as Mr Quinn settled his heavy gaze on Nathan.

“Mr Quinn, I—“

He looked at me, eyes unreadable before he silenced Nathan and walked out.

The crowd burst into an angry chorus of whispers and began to walk out. Nathan, panicked and let go of me.

“Wait!” He shouted.

“We haven’t talked about the campaign… Mr Willis” he gestured to a big man, trying to get the guests to stay but nobody paid him any mind.

In three seconds, the house was desolate save for the angry and hushed argument between Nathan and his mother.

I stood at the center. My chest pounding, head filled with scattered thoughts and guilt eating me alive as Nathan stood by the door, his tux nowhere to be found, white shirt rolled to his elbows.

“Nath—“ my breath cut off as he walked past me upstairs. His stride stiff.

Something in my chest wilted. I ignored how weak my legs were, my irregular breathing and followed him.

A scent trail of blood followed me just as I stopped at his office. Sweat ran down my spine, matting my clothes to my back as I twisted the doorknob weakly.

Nathan stood, his back to me and an open envelope on the table.

“Nathan?” I croaked, uncertain.

“Open it,” he demanded. My eyes flickered to his desk and my feet went numb.

I walked slowly, each step threatening to knock me out but just as he turned to me.

I froze.

“My mother was right,” he spat, low and venomous. “All along.”

Then my eyes landed on the desk.

DIVORCE SETTLEMENT.

It was dated, five hours ago.