The penthouse smelled like expensive lilies and lemon polish. It was a sterile scent, devoid of life.
Elinor walked through the front door, her steps uneven. Martha, the housekeeper, dropped the duster she was holding.
"Mrs. Logan! You look like a ghost," Martha exclaimed, rushing forward.
Elinor held up a hand. A sharp, cutting motion. Stop.
She walked past Martha, her spine straight despite the cramping that still lingered in her belly. She went into the master bedroom. In her bag was a plastic sack containing the clothes she had worn to the hospital.
She walked into the bathroom, dumped the ruined clothes into the trash bin, and poured half a bottle of bleach over them. The chemical stench burned her nose, masking the metallic smell of blood.
The elevator chimed in the foyer.
Elinor froze.
Julius walked in. He looked exhausted, his tie loosened, his sleeves rolled up. But underneath the fatigue, there was a vibration of excitement. And he smelled different.
He smelled of hospital antiseptic. And baby powder.
He saw Elinor standing by the bathroom door. He frowned.
"You didn't answer Mother's call yesterday," Julius said. No hello. No kiss. Just an accusation.
Elinor walked into the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed. She felt nauseous.
"It was a madhouse," Julius continued, unbuttoning his shirt. "Chanelle nearly hemorrhaged during the delivery. Twins. A boy and a girl. I had to stay. She has no one else."
He tossed his shirt onto the chair.
"Why did you call last night?" he asked, almost as an afterthought. "You went silent. Again."
Elinor picked up her phone. Her thumbs hovered over the keyboard.
I lost our baby.
She stared at the words. Then she backspaced.
I almost died.
Backspace.
Nothing.
She showed him the screen.
Julius rolled his eyes. He ran a hand through his hair. "God, Elinor. Stop the drama. I'm exhausted. Can't you just be normal for once? Chanelle just went through hell, and you're here playing charades."
Elinor stood up. The movement was too fast. A sharp pain shot through her pelvis, and she stumbled.
Julius reached out instinctively to steady her.
His hand touched her arm.
Elinor recoiled as if he were a hot iron. She slapped his hand away, her body shuddering with revulsion.
Julius stepped back, shocked. His face darkened. "What the hell is wrong with you? Are you jealous? Of a widow who just gave birth? That is low, even for you."
Chanelle.
The name was a trigger.
Elinor turned to the nightstand. There was a crystal vase there, a heavy, intricate thing filled with white roses. Their first anniversary gift.
She grabbed the neck of the vase.
She didn't look at him. She hurled it against the wall.
Crash.
Glass exploded. Water splashed across the silk wallpaper. Shards skittered across the hardwood floor, slicing into the cuff of Julius's trousers.
The silence that followed was deafening.
"Have you lost your mind?" Julius shouted, stepping over the debris.
Elinor walked up to him. She was shaking, but not from fear. From a rage so pure it felt like clarity.
She raised her hand and slapped him.
It was a solid, meat-on-meat sound. Her palm connected with his cheekbone, snapping his head to the side.
Julius stood there, hand cupping his face, eyes wide with disbelief. He opened his mouth to speak, to yell, to assert dominance.
Elinor pointed a trembling finger at the bedroom door.
She opened her mouth, but only a dry, clicking sound came out. Her throat burned. It felt like swallowing glass. Instead of a word, she raised her phone, the screen already lit. Her text-to-speech app was open.
A cold, robotic female voice filled the room, devoid of all emotion.
"Out."
The word was raspy, broken, ugly. But it was loud.
Julius blinked. He looked at her as if a statue had just come to life and drawn a sword. The fear in his eyes was fleeting, replaced quickly by arrogance.
"Fine," he spat. "Cool off. You're being hysterical."
He turned and stormed out, slamming the door so hard the frame rattled.
Elinor didn't flinch. She waited until she heard the front door close.
She sank to the floor, ignoring the glass shards. She opened the bottom drawer of the nightstand and pulled out a manila envelope.
Draft of Dissolution of Marriage.
She took a pen. In the date field, she wrote today's date.
Her phone buzzed. A text message.
It was a photo from an unknown number, but she knew who it was.
The photo showed Julius sitting in a hospital chair, holding two swaddled bundles. Chanelle was leaning her head on his shoulder, looking exhausted and triumphant.
The caption read: Family.
Elinor stared at the photo. Her eyes were dry. Her heart was a stone.
