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The Broken Ballerina's Secret Paris Escape

Chapter 4 4

Word Count: 931 | Released on: 12/01/2026

pine air freshener a

plastic folder. Inside were her study guides for the DALF C1 exam-the

jeans. Her hair was pulled back in a low bun, and she wor

ike a studen

unted, glancing in the rearview mirror

red, her eyes scanning the

a pothole that sent a jolt of pain throug

rawl as they turned o

passing Le

food temple. Fielding's fav

en a

lass windows were usually tinted, but the interi

n she s

e tables near the window, but scr

ldi

sn't

brushed his chest, was Corinna. She was wearing whit

ge roommate and lifelong enabler, along with two ot

word was out of her mout

asked. "It's a no-s

t me out

he driver. It was part of the cash stack she had received from the

nter, the Alliance Française, was two blocks awa

ad to

ed forward, his face composing itself into a polite m

itanium card. She hadn't sold the jewelry yet; the rese

"I'm looking for Mr. G

cognized the name, if not the woman. "Of co

"I just want to surprise him. Is there a

than protocol. He led her to a small two-top tucked behind

o them, but she cou

g against her ribs like a trapped

d over the partition,

e Lame Duck today? Surprised she

Cruel, sha

glass. Lame Duck. So tha

t. "Don't be mean. Ariel has a hard time gettin

that cut deeper

elding. A depressed, limping millstone around you

for Fielding to slam his hand on the table. To d

tched for th

. His voice was cal

life, Archer.

t. You don't have to stay married to a woman who brings n

ng said. "It's a de

ot a partner.

hat hadn't b

rain from her face. Th

e hadn't tried to play hero, she'd probabl

tone softening as he evidently turned to Corinn

cutlery, the low hum of conversation-faded

her study guide. L'

ly a past that was being can

ud, cheerful c

beep-

arm on her phone. The remi

-end dining room, it so

the next table c

ding's voice was shar

r fingers shaking so badly she d

oritative footsteps co

s nowher

Chapter End

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The Broken Ballerina's Secret Paris Escape

Shearwater Modern

“I traced the floral patterns on the silver candlestick, my fingertips numb from the cold of the penthouse. It was our fifth anniversary, and the Wellington steak I'd spent four hours preparing sat soggy and defeated under the dim chandelier. Fielding finally walked in at 1:00 AM, smelling of scotch and tuberose-a scent I didn't own. When I tried to touch him, he recoiled as if my fingers were acid, then disappeared into the bathroom where I heard him moan his ex-girlfriend's name with a desperate, guttural longing. The betrayal didn't end there. The next day, I found him at a luxury restaurant, watching him slide a massive pink diamond onto Corinna's finger-the same ring he'd told me was a "business investment." I stood hidden behind a frosted glass partition as his friends laughed, calling me a "lame duck" and a "depressed millstone" around his neck. Fielding didn't defend me; he calmly told them our marriage was just a "debt" he had to pay because I'd saved his life in the crash that ended my ballet career. "She's a millstone, Fielding. How long are you going to play nursemaid?" "I owe her. It's a debt. I pay my debts." When I finally confronted him, he didn't show remorse. Instead, he threatened to use his power to declare me mentally unstable and freeze my grandmother's trust fund so I'd be left "crippled and penniless" on the street. I realized then that Fielding didn't want a wife; he wanted a martyr to ease his survivor's guilt, as long as I stayed broken and dependent. He thought he'd clipped my wings for good, but he didn't know I'd been secretly studying for the Sorbonne while he was out with his mistress. As I put on my designer gown for the charity gala, I wasn't preparing for a party. I was liquidating my jewelry for untraceable cash and planning the ultimate exit. He thinks I'm his prisoner, but the countdown to my final act has already begun.”