Chapter 2
The door clicked shut, sealing off every bit of Elliot's aura.
I lay sprawled across the desk, unmoving for what felt like ages.
My computer screen was still lit up with the unfinished design draft. The blinking cursor looked like it was nagging me to keep going.
I picked up my stylus and created a brand new file.
For the file name, I typed: [New Life.]
I sketched out Lilianna's ring in no time.
Elliot wanted Stars. I gave him a sky full of stars. I poured everything into the most intricate, jaw-dropping design I could imagine.
The centerpiece was that pink diamond he'd won at auction two years ago, kept locked in his safe. Turned out, it was always meant for another woman.
When I sent him the design, he was abroad on business.
Elliot didn't reply for five hours.
His reply was just one word: [Good.]
I looked at that word and felt absolutely nothing.
Three years in, I was numb to it. Every ounce of effort and creativity I poured in—all I ever got from him was a "good" or a "not bad."
I closed the chat window and started gathering my stuff.
Truth be told, there wasn't much to gather.
There was hardly anything in this villa that was actually mine. Aside from a few clothes and the design drafts I'd drawn over the years, that was it.
I backed up every sketch and file onto an encrypted hard drive.
Then I called my lawyer.
"Mr. Duke, you can start drafting that divorce agreement we discussed earlier," I said.
Elliot came back three days later.
The day he returned, I was packing up the last box of books.
As soon as he walked in, he tossed his coat onto the couch, loosened his tie, and looked completely wiped out.
"Didn't I tell you not to touch anything in the study?" he snapped, frowning the moment he saw the boxes scattered everywhere.
"These aren't yours," I said, shoving the last book into the box and sealing it up with tape.
"So whose are they?" he snapped, his tone cold.
Elliot let out a sarcastic laugh, like I'd just told a joke. "Maggie, tell me, what in this house is actually yours?"
His words sliced through me like an ice-cold blade, straight to the heart.
He got a point.
The house was in his name. The car belonged to his company. Even my bank card was just a supplementary card he’d given me.
Even my so-called chief designer status only existed because of the Harris Group.
Without him, it felt like I didn't even exist.
Back then, words like that would've kept me up all night, drowning in self-doubt. I'd wonder if I really was just a parasite, clinging to him for survival.
But now, I felt nothing but calm.
"Elliot," I said, standing up and brushing the dust off my hands, "have you ever stopped to think about how much value I've created for you over the past three years?"
He froze.
I said, "Out of the top ten best-selling jewelry collections in your company's financial report last year, I was the lead designer for seven. All those custom pieces you used to impress your business partners?
"Those were my late-night designs. Even the birthday gifts for your mom and your sister? Those too were designed by me," I said.
With every word, Elliot's expression soured.
"That secondary card you gave me—have I ever spent more than one percent of what I earn in design fees each month?" I asked.
I looked him straight in the eye and said, "Every cent I spend comes from what I earned. So these things? They belong to me."
Elliot was completely stumped by my words, unable to come up with a single comeback.
For the first time, he realized that his always quiet and obedient wife could actually throw some sharp words right back at him.
He was so used to my silence and compliance that he'd forgotten even the meek will fight back when pushed too far.
"I never said you didn't make money," he said, deflecting. "I just told you not to touch anything. Lilianna's coming over for dinner next week. What do you think she'd say if she saw the place looking like this?"
It was Lilianna again.
My heart just went numb for a second.
"What does her coming over for dinner have to do with me packing up my stuff?" I asked.
"She's a guest," Elliot said, his tone laced with a warning. "I want the house to be tidy."
"So what?" I stared right at him. "You mean, just because your precious Lilianna is coming over, I—the woman you actually married—have to hide all my things so she doesn't have to see them?"
"Maggie, could you drop the snark?" Elliot was losing his cool. "You never used to talk like this."