Chapter 2

When we got home, I didn't say a word.

Nathaniel noticed my unusual silence. He followed me into the kitchen to explain today's photos.

"I know how it looked today," he said softly, rubbing his temples. "But Seraphina was truly terrified. The reporters were relentless."

I put down my glass. I didn't ask him if he loved Seraphina.

I just looked at him. "Why is it that every time she is in trouble, it always has to be you?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but I didn't let him.

"I am your wife," I said, my voice calm. "It is inappropriate for her to stand beside you in front of outsiders. She is an adult. She can handle her own problems and she needs to take responsibility for her actions."

Nathaniel froze. He looked down, a shadow of guilt crossing his face.

Ten years ago, right before his wedding with Seraphina, she had kept telling him she couldn't handle the pressure. She was terrified of the media and the Ashford family's control.

Young Nathaniel didn't truly listen. He just thought it was pre-wedding anxiety.

So she ran away on the exact day of their wedding.

All the media, guests, and business partners were waiting in the hall.

To save the two families' partnership and rescue Nathaniel from public humiliation, I stepped in.

I put on an altered wedding dress and married him.

Only later did Nathaniel find out Seraphina had actually suffered a severe mental breakdown before fleeing.

"I didn't listen to her back then," Nathaniel said now. "When she came back... every time she panics, I can't ignore her a second time."

I let out a soft laugh. It sounded hollow in the large kitchen.

"So because you didn't listen to her ten years ago, I have to pay the price for it ten times over?"

Nathaniel stepped forward immediately. He grabbed my shoulders.

"No," he denied it quickly. "This isn’t about choosing her over you."

Then, he looked into my eyes and said the most fatal words.

"You’re my wife, Elena. You know what we have. She doesn’t have anyone she trusts like that."

His hands were still on my shoulders, but the comfort had vanished from the gesture.

"You think I can absorb whatever you take from me," I said. "Because I stayed last time, you assume I will stay the next time too."

He assumed I could endure it.

Nathaniel drew me against him before I could step away, lowering his voice as though quiet words made the problem smaller.

""I'm sorry about today, " finally, he promised against my hair. "Next week is our wedding anniversary. I promise you, this kind of situation will absolutely not happen."

"I'll turn off my phone. I'll let the PR team and my assistant handle her." he whispered. "No interruptions.No excuses."

He kissed my forehead.

He thought the argument was over.

Later that night, Nathaniel fell asleep.

I sat alone in the dark study. My laptop screen lit up.

A new email popped up in my inbox.

The last line read:

[I need your answer by Monday.]

I stared at the glowing screen for a long time.

After ten years, I did not think about Nathaniel's schedule. I did not think about the Ashford Foundation, or whether this house needed me to run it.

I placed my hands on the keyboard. I typed.

I’ll take it.

I clicked send.

Then, I opened the bottom drawer of my desk.

I slowly started sorting out my old passport, my professional files, and the design notes I left behind ten years ago.

My movements were small and quiet.

The bedroom and his access remained untouched. I removed only the documents and tools I would need to begin again.

I just started preparing for a life without Nathaniel.