The voices of Julian and Eleanor blurred together in Chloe's ears. Every word was a needle prick. Scarlett's favorite foods. Scarlett's needs.
Chloe stood frozen. The opulent room, with its gold leaf and silk curtains, twisted before her eyes, morphing into a grotesque, gilded cage.
She remembered arriving here three years ago, her heart full of love for Julian, naively believing she could warm his.
But the day after their wedding, Scarlett had "unexpectedly" left New York under circumstances Chloe never fully understood. Julian had blamed her, beginning three years of a cold, silent war.
Chloe took a shallow breath, a final, desperate attempt. She walked toward him.
"Julian, can we talk?" Her voice was soft, but clear.
He finally looked up from his conversation with his mother, his brow furrowed with impatience. "I thought I made myself clear."
"I am your wife," Chloe said, summoning all her courage to meet his eyes.
A flicker of mockery crossed his face. He took a step closer, his tall frame shadowing her, and lowered his voice to a cruel whisper meant only for her.
"Wife? Chloe, don't forget how this marriage happened. If it weren't for what you did three years ago, do you think you'd be standing here?"
The accusation sent a chill through her entire body. In his mind, she would always be a manipulative, wicked woman.
Eleanor glided over, linking her arm with Julian's. She looked at Chloe with the air of a victor. "Chloe, a person should know their place. Don't cling to what isn't yours."
Chloe looked at the mother and son, at their identical expressions of cold disdain. A wave of physical nausea washed over her.
She didn't argue anymore. She just nodded, turned, and walked silently toward the grand staircase. Her back was straight, but each step felt like walking on knives.
Watching her go, Eleanor said to Julian, "You see? She's so ungrateful. Not even a hint of welcome for Scarlett's return."
Julian didn't reply. He just watched Chloe's figure disappear around the bend of the stairs, his brow tightening slightly, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes at her quiet compliance.
Chloe returned to the master bedroom, a space she had carefully curated for three years. Her favorite paintings hung on the walls. The books she read every night sat on the nightstand.
She didn't cry. She just stood there, silently looking around. Everything in this room was stained with her one-sided love and futile efforts.
She walked to the dressing room, opened her side of the closet, and began mechanically pulling out her clothes, placing them in a suitcase.
She didn't take the expensive gowns or the jewelry. Those were the shackles the Montgomerys had given her. She only packed a few simple, everyday clothes she had bought herself.
While clearing a drawer, her hand brushed against a velvet box. She opened it. Inside were their wedding rings.
She picked up the man's ring. In three years, Julian had never worn it for a single day. Its shine was a mockery.
She placed both rings back in the box and tossed it into the deepest corner of the drawer. It was the first thing she had done for herself in years.
After filling one suitcase, her phone rang. The screen displayed the name "Aden." Aden Lane, her best friend.
She answered, trying to keep her voice steady. "Aden?"
"Chloe? You don't sound right. Did the old witch give you hell again?" Aden's voice was sharp with concern.
Hearing her friend's voice, the dam Chloe had built inside her finally cracked. Her eyes welled up.
She walked to the window. Below in the garden, servants were already at work, following Eleanor's orders to arrange decorations for Scarlett's welcome.
Chloe took a deep breath. "Aden," she said into the phone, "I'm done. I'm ending it all."
There was a moment of silence on the other end, then Aden's unwavering support came through. "Good! Wait for me. I'm coming to get you right now. I'll stand by you no matter what."
Hanging up, Chloe felt the massive stone that had been crushing her for three years finally begin to shift. She knew leaving here meant losing everything, but she would gain her freedom.
For three years, she had avoided thinking about this possibility. But today, there was nothing left to hold onto.
She pulled out her phone again and found a number. It belonged to the most famous divorce lawyer in New York.
She sent a text.
"Hello, this is Chloe White. I need your help. As soon as possible."
