Chapter 2
830words
The house was tomb-silent. He strode in without knocking, his face not showing a hint of remorse—only glacial indifference.
I was on my knees, stuffing clothes into a suitcase.
"Since the charade is over," he said, voice stripped of any warmth, "pack faster. I've got potential buyers coming this weekend."
I shot to my feet. "What the hell are you talking about? We bought this place together!"
"Together?" He laughed, a cold sound as his eyes swept dismissively around the room. "Check the deed. Only my name appears. Legally, this is my pre-marital property. You have zero claim."
"I paid the goddamn down payment!" My voice shook with rage.
"Where's your proof?" He spread his hands, mockery cutting deeper than any blade. "Show me the bank statement. The transfer record. Don't be pathetic, Eleanor, making claims without evidence."
His brazen shamelessness froze my blood.
His phone rang. He glanced at the screen, then deliberately hit the speaker button.
Chloe's syrupy voice sliced through the silence: "Babe, have you kicked her out yet?"
"The Egyptian cotton sheets I ordered just arrived."
"The delivery guys are waiting to set everything up."
"Those ratty old sheets need to go in the trash where they belong."
She lingered on "ratty old sheets," making it crystal clear she wasn't just talking about bedding.
Victor's voice softened to a tone he'd never once used with me: "Sweetheart, almost done here. Whatever makes you happy. You're right—time to throw out the old garbage."
He ended the call. When his eyes met mine again, they were arctic.
"Sign." He flung a document at my feet like tossing scraps to a dog.
"Out of the goodness of my heart, I'm offering thirty grand as severance. Take it, disappear quietly, and don't embarrass yourself with a scene."
Thirty thousand? The down payment I'd made had drained my entire life savings!
When I remained silent, he stepped closer, voice dropping to a menacing whisper: "Your father's health is precarious, isn't it? Recently hospitalized?"
"Elderly hearts are so fragile."
"If he learned about his daughter's... indiscretions... and suffered another attack..."
"Be smart, Eleanor. For everyone's sake."
He was threatening me with my father's health. He didn't even know my father's true condition.
But the move was pure venom.
I thought I was already hollow inside, but his words still found something to break.
Tears spilled down my cheeks before I could stop them.
At the sight of my tears, irritation flickered across his face, quickly replaced by impatience.
"Christ, why are you crying?" he snapped. "Chloe's right—you'll never grow up."
"These past three years, I've been evolving. You've been stagnant."
"Want to know why I chose Chloe? She knows how to leverage her assets to get what she wants."
"And you? Besides playing housemaid—washing my shirts and cooking my dinners—what exactly do you bring to the table?"
"We're not even in the same league anymore."
He shifted the blame for his betrayal onto my shoulders with practiced ease.
As he spoke, I thought: "You're right. You're still crawling in the dirt, while I'm about to reclaim my place in the stars."
"The papers are here. Sign them within three days."
He turned on his heel and walked out.
The door clicked shut behind him.
The sound was soft, yet it tore a void in my chest.
I slid down the wall to the floor.
My fingers found a worn patch on the carpet—a scar from the secondhand coffee table we'd proudly hauled home when we first moved in.
Back then, he'd wrapped his arms around me, face etched with regret: "I'm sorry it's not better, Ellie. One day I'll give you everything you deserve."
The future?
What future?
My eyes drifted across this "home" I'd poured my soul into building.
These three years had been nothing but a cosmic joke.
For him, I'd traded champagne brunches and designer handbags for clipping coupons and haggling over vegetables.
For him, I'd pulled all-nighters freelancing until my wrists cramped, just to buy his first decent suit.
For him, I'd washed dishes in freezing water until my hands cracked and bled, yet still held him on sleepless nights whispering, "If everything falls apart, I'll carry us both."
Most vividly, I remember kneeling before my father, begging him to understand, walking away from billions in family wealth, believing love would compensate for everything I'd sacrificed.
I'd smashed my own crown with bare hands, melted down the gold to buy groceries, and handed him the scraps.
The tears wouldn't stop. Not for him—for the fool I'd been these three years.
My stomach heaved violently.
I barely made it to the bathroom before retching.
I braced against the sink, splashing icy water on my burning face.
I forced myself to look up.
The woman in the mirror had puffy, bloodshot eyes.
But something in those eyes had transformed.
They were cold now. Hard. Dangerous.
