Chapter 2

As the memory faded, I watched as Elliot finally lifted his eyes to meet mine.

The impatience in his gaze, that same heavy silence from the night before, filled the space between us.

My heart was numb now, but my will had never been clearer.

"I want a divorce," I repeated, my voice as calm as still water.

Elliot finally put down his pen. His brows were drawn tight in irritation, his handsome face shadowed with anger. "Yvonne, have you finished with this performance?"

He rose, his tall frame casting a dominating presence. "All of this because Samuel spoke out of turn last night? He's just a kid. Are you really that petty?

"Don't threaten me with divorce, and don't drag Samuel into your drama." He was certain this was just another act, another desperate plea for his attention and sympathy.

I looked at him then, and suddenly, it all felt almost laughable.

For eight years, I had shared my life with a man who never truly saw me.

He never saw my hurt or heard my pleas.

In his eyes, I was a source of noise, a disturbance, and an obstacle to the peaceful life he wanted with Samuel.

Just then, the study door eased open.

An overly sweet fragrance drifted in, followed by Lilian Lambert herself.

She wore a soft lavender gown that flowed with her movements, carrying a bowl of bisque in her hands.

This was the main study, where Elliot handled important matters. Normally, not even I could enter without reason, let alone his mistress.

Yet here she was, perfectly at ease, as if she owned the place.

"Your Grace, I made your favorite tomato bisque," Lilian said, her voice honey-sweet. She looked up at Elliot with wide, innocent eyes. "But... I hope I'm not disturbing you and Yvonne."

Her gaze drifted to the desk, landing on the divorce papers.

Lilian lifted a hand to her mouth in feigned surprise, but the smugness in her eyes was unmistakable. "Oh, Yvonne, what's all this? Every couple has their little spats, but they shouldn't last. Don't let this turn into something bigger between you and His Grace."

She kept her tone gentle as she leaned close to Elliot, setting the soup bowl next to his hand.

He didn't accept it, but he didn't push it away either.

Lilian acted as though I weren't there at all, turning to Elliot with a sugary lilt. "Your Grace, you did promise to take Samuel to the carnival. Don't forget, will you?"

When she mentioned Samuel, her voice was thick with fondness, as if the three of them were already a proper family.

As I watched them act like the perfect pair right in front of me, the bitterness was almost laughable.

I'd asked Elliot to take Samuel and me to the carnival many times.

He always said he was too busy, that it was beneath him, that a man of his standing didn't go to such events.

It turned out he didn't mind the fair. He just didn't want to go with me.

Everything I had hoped for, everything I'd tried to build between us, was just a joke to him.

Now, I didn't feel angry or jealous. There was only a hollow numbness, as if I were watching the scene unfold from somewhere far away.

I looked at Elliot, my voice empty of any feeling. "Sign it. I'll leave now. I won't keep the three of you from your night out."

My calm seemed to irritate him more than any outburst could have.

He gave a short, cold laugh. "Yvonne, do you truly think you can decide when you're done with this family? Do you think this family would be any different without you?"

His eyes held nothing but contempt, as though I were some petty, ridiculous disturbance.

In his mind, I would never bring myself to leave. He was sure I'd cling to the title of Mrs. Ashford, to my spotless reputation here in Willowgage.

But I'd prove him wrong.

What I had once treasured was now revealed to me as nothing but chains.

And this time, I was going to break them myself.

"Mom, are you picking on Lilian again?" Samuel's angry voice cut through the room as he rushed in furiously.

He saw Lilian's glistening eyes and the way she leaned so helplessly against Elliot, and instantly, I became the villain.

He marched up to me, chin raised, eyes filled with blame. "Why do you always have to be like this? Lilian is nice. Why are you always so mean to her?"

I looked at my son, the one I carried for months through sickness, the one I risked my life to bring into the world.

I taught him letters, verses, and how to know right from wrong.

But now, to him, the woman trying to break apart our family was "nice," and I, the mother who held him, raised him, and gave him everything, was only the "mean one."