Chapter 6: Leaving the Mansion

*Elena's POV*

Before I left, I went into the bedroom to pack the few things I had.

The wardrobe looked almost empty.

Five years of marriage, and everything that belonged to me fit inside one medium-sized suitcase.

I stood in the middle of the room for a long time without moving, my fingers curled around the handle of the luggage while my eyes wandered across the bedroom.

The curtains I had picked. The cream rug I had begged Damian to let me buy because the marble floor always felt cold in winter. The reading lamp on his side that he never switched on because he preferred working in darkness.

There were pieces of me everywhere. Tiny pieces nobody would ever notice were gone.

I reached for the framed photograph on the bedside table before my hand froze halfway.

It was one of the few pictures Richard had insisted on taking before the wedding. Damian had been smiling then. A real smile. His arm had rested around my shoulders naturally, as though it belonged there.

Sometimes I still wondered where that version of him had gone.

Or perhaps... Perhaps he had never existed at all.

My fingers dropped back to my side.

The photograph stayed exactly where it was; it belonged to this house. Just like every dream I had buried inside these walls.

A knock sounded softly against the half-open door.

"Elena?" Michael's voice carried carefully into the room.

I turned.

His eyes swept over the suitcase. "Is that everything?"

I looked around one last time. "It has to be."

His gaze lingered on me for a heartbeat longer than necessary before he nodded.

"I'll take it."

"You don't have to."

"I know."

He stepped forward anyway. When he reached for the suitcase, our hands brushed briefly against the handle.

His grip tightened, and mine loosened.

He never commented on how light it was.

Neither of us wanted to say aloud how little I was leaving with after giving five years of my life to this family.

We walked through the hallway in silence.

Every step echoed.

The dining room where I had waited countless nights for Damian to come home.

The piano Richard used to play every Sunday afternoon.

The kitchen where I had learnt to cook because Damian once mentioned he preferred homemade meals.

I smiled bitterly.

He had stopped eating with me years ago.

By the time we reached the front door, my chest had become so tight that breathing felt strangely deliberate.

Michael opened the door for me and the afternoon breeze touched my face.

Freedom should not have hurt this much.

"Mrs..."

One of the older housekeepers stood near the entrance, wringing her apron between trembling fingers.

"I heard..." Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. "I just wanted to say goodbye."

I smiled because she deserved one.

"Take care of yourself, Martha."

She covered her mouth before the first sob escaped.

"You were always too kind for this house."

My throat closed painfully; I could not answer.

If I opened my mouth, I would break.

Michael quietly loaded my suitcase into the boot while I remained standing beneath the enormous stone pillars.

The mansion looked the same as it had yesterday.

It amazed me how buildings could remain so beautiful after swallowing someone's entire life.

I slipped my hand inside my coat pocket until my fingers found the wedding ring.

I had taken it off before signing the divorce papers; it rested against my palm now.

I stopped.

Michael noticed immediately. "What is it?"

I opened my hand slowly; the platinum band rested in my palm, catching the afternoon light.

"I forgot something."

His eyes dropped to the ring before lifting back to mine.

"You can leave it with one of the staff."

I looked down at it for a long moment before shaking my head.

"No."

This marriage had started with Damian placing this ring on my finger.

It deserved to end with me placing it back into his hand.

"I'll only be a minute."

Before Michael could argue, I turned around and walked back into the house.

The study door stood half open, and I knocked once.

Neither of them answered, and I pushed it open anyway.

Damian was standing beside the drinks cabinet, pouring himself another glass of whisky as though nothing remarkable had happened today.

Rosalie leaned lazily against his desk, watching him with a smile that reached her eyes.

"So," she said lightly, "I suppose congratulations are in order."

Damian lifted the glass. "I suppose."

She laughed under her breath. "You finally got what you wanted."

He took an unhurried sip before glancing towards the window overlooking the driveway.

Michael's car was still parked outside.

"They're taking their time."

"Does it matter?" Rosalie asked.

His answer came without hesitation. "No."

He swirled the amber liquid around the crystal.

"This house finally feels peaceful. "

My chest tightened painfully.

Rosalie smiled. "I told you everything would get better once she left."

"It already has."

She stepped closer, resting her hand against his arm.

"You should celebrate."

"I intend to."

I could not remember the last time he had sounded so... light.

As though five years of marriage had been nothing more than a problem finally solved.

I raised my hand, and the ring lay quietly against my palm.

"I came to return this."

Both of them turned.

Rosalie's smile widened.

Damian's eyes settled briefly on the ring before returning to my face.

Without a word, I crossed the room and placed it on the desk between us.

The soft metallic sound echoed far louder than it should have.

"I don't have any use for it anymore."

Damian looked at the ring, then at me.

Finally, he reached for his whisky instead.

"I'll have someone put it away."

I waited; some foolish, stubborn part of me still expected him to say something.

Anything, but nothing came.

Rosalie slipped her arm through his.

"I think you've kept Michael waiting long enough."

I looked at Damian one last time.

He raised the whisky to his lips.

I nodded to myself.

Then I turned around, walked out of the study, and this time, I never stopped walking.

Michael started the engine, and neither of us spoke.

The gates remained closed while security completed the clearance procedure.

I kept staring straight ahead, just a little longer.

Then this place would disappear behind me forever.

Michael adjusted the air conditioning before finally speaking.

"You should sleep."

"I don't think I can."

"You haven't rested properly since yesterday."

"I know."

His hands remained steady on the steering wheel.

"You've been through a lot."

I laughed quietly.

"A lot." He glanced sideways. "You don't have to pretend you're alright.

"I'm trying."

"I know."

Silence settled again.

"You can stay as long as you need."

"I don't want to become a burden."

"You won't."

"I have nothing left, Michael."

"You still have yourself."

My smile faded. "I'm not even sure that's true anymore."

He slowed the car as the iron gates finally began sliding open.

"You'll find her again."

"I don't know where to look."

"We'll start one day at a time."

The car rolled forward, as the mansion disappeared little by little inside the rear-view mirror.

I refused to look. Because I knew myself. If I saw those windows one last time...

If I caught even the smallest glimpse of Damian standing there...

I would ask Michael to stop the car, and I would run back.

I would apologise for things I never did. I would beg a man who had never begged me to stay.

My fingers dug painfully into my own palms.

Michael reached across the console. His hand hovered for a brief moment before gently squeezing mine.

"You don't have to be strong today."

My eyes stung. "I've forgotten how not to be."

"You'll remember."

The car crossed the gates.

Behind us, the heavy iron doors slowly began closing, and I still did not look back.

Just as Michael turned onto the main road, another black luxury sedan swept past us in the opposite direction.

Its windows were heavily tinted. The driver barely slowed before disappearing through the opening gates of the Cross mansion.

Michael's brows knitted together briefly as he watched it through the windscreen.

"Are you expecting visitors?"

I shook my head without taking my eyes off the road ahead.

"No."

Behind us, the gates closed once again, swallowing the car.