Divorcing The Cold Heir: Watch Me Rise

ds settled in the air, the sound of m

and his father, Charles Harding

. He gave Elena a curt nod, his eyes polite but distant. He had never been unkind to her, but he had n

ot have to hate you to make you disappear. They simply looked through you long e

ace. He was clearly coming from a successful busine

n Elena, sitting stiff

ile va

posture changed. His shoulders tensed, his jaw hardened, and his face became a cold,

instantaneous and sho

second. Eleanor watched, a flicker of

lsion, the way he didn't even try to hide it in front of h

one pretended this was unacceptable. Barrett's disgust was a

to the drink cart and pouring himself a glas

?" Charles Sr. asked his wife

plied smoothly, her gaze flicking to

Her marriage. Her humiliation. Her name being dragged through the mouths of servants and socialites. To Eleanor,

ndant in a trial where the verdict had already bee

ormal name he preferred. "I was

ad fired Brenda. She had been in the kitchen, and Brenda

se she heard her own name. Then she he

? Please. They see each other less than strangers. I give i

go to the cleaner he chose. His suits are handled by his valet when he's in town. But her things? I leave them

ure. "Breakfast for two every time he's expected home. Flowers in the bedroom. Fresh towels in the bath he never u

ushed the pantry door open, her hands shaking, and t

most. She had looked startled, then faintly offended, as if Elena

Eleanor's voice cut

ght as well have dinner together," s

t was a trap. A command pe

o polite wa

amily did not drag people into rooms. They arranged the

ake people feel insignificant. As they walked, Barrett brushed pa

ack as if he'

eeve and brushed at the fabric, a small,

lena

harp sting a welcome distraction fr

. But Elena felt it all the way through her body, a cold, nauseating certainty that the

exercise in

ted by vast expanses of wood. The only sounds were the clinking of silv

ers, acquisitions, market fluctuations. They s

scussed expansion plans with the ease of a man whose wife had not asked him for a divorce hours earlier. Cha

er Elena, her gaze lingering for a moment too long, making

h her eyes. The tired set of her mouth. The scrubs she had changed out of too quickly, the hair she ha

r plate, the taste of ashes in he

who understood how to be ornamental. Tonight, shame curdled into something darker. Disgust. Not at herself, but at th

ound the table. Her husband. Her

th chilling clarity. They were a unit

had become inconvenient. Because a wife who still felt pain was harder to manage than a wife who smiled on comman

d once protected so desperately no longer felt wounded. It felt diseased. She wanted it out of her. She wante