The door to the master suite clicked open. Giles Barron stepped inside, loosening his tie, a familiar scowl on his face. The lights were on.
Elenor was sitting on the sofa, waiting. A single file lay on the coffee table in front of her.
She wore a simple silk robe, her face scrubbed clean of makeup. She looked pale, but her eyes were unnervingly calm. It was a stillness Giles didn't recognize.
"What are you trying to start now?" he asked, his voice laced with impatience. "Is this about the necklace? Elenor, don't be so childish." He assumed, as always, that this was another one of her desperate plays for his attention.
She ignored the question, her finger tapping lightly on the document. "Sign it."
He frowned, walking closer. He picked up the file. The words on the cover made his blood run cold.
Divorce Agreement.
A harsh, disbelieving laugh escaped him. He tossed the file back onto the table. "Are you insane? Do you have any idea what you're doing?"
Elenor finally looked up at him. Her gaze was that of a stranger. "I'm perfectly lucid. Giles, I want a divorce."
His face hardened. He moved toward her, planting his hands on the back of the sofa, caging her in. The sheer size of him, the familiar scent of his cologne, the oppressive weight of his presence—it was all meant to intimidate. "Take it back," he commanded. "The Barrons don't divorce. Stop testing my limits with this ridiculous drama."
She held his gaze. The adoration he had always taken for granted was gone. Her gray eyes were cold and unreadable, stripped of both love and fear.
"I'm not testing you," she said, her voice clear and steady. "I'm informing you."
His patience snapped. He reached for her face, resorting to the one tactic that had never failed. A kiss, a touch, and she would crumble. She always did.
But this time, she jerked her head away. The movement was so sharp, so sudden, it left him stunned.
"Don't touch me," she said. The words were quiet, but they carried the chill of a tomb. "You make me sick."
His hand froze in midair. She had never, not once, denied him. And never with such revulsion.
His face turned to stone, his eyes darkening to a dangerous shade of blue. "Elenor Moran, say that again."
"I said," she repeated, speaking slowly so he could not mistake her meaning, "you and your mistress, Evelin Sargent, make me physically ill."
She stood, trying to move past him, but he grabbed her wrist. His grip was like iron, a painful reminder of his strength. He was surprised to find she didn't struggle or cry out. She simply looked down at the hand encircling her wrist with cold detachment.
"Let go," she said.
"A divorce? Fine." A cruel smirk twisted his lips as he switched tactics. "You won't get a single penny. And your little brother with his bakery, your father's struggling company... what do you think will happen to them?"
He thought he had her. He was aiming for her soft spots.
But her expression didn't change.
"The agreement is very clear," she said, gesturing with her free hand toward the papers on the table. "I'm leaving with nothing."
Giles froze. Leaving with nothing? That was impossible. It defied every calculation he had ever made about her. He had always believed she married him for the Barron fortune, the status, the power.
His mind raced, trying to process this. Was it a bluff? Did she have a new protector?
He stared at her, searching for a crack in her composure, but there was none. She was like a beautiful, hollow doll, all emotion surgically removed.
Elenor wrenched her hand free. He was so lost in thought, his grip had slackened.
She walked to the dressing room and returned with a small, packed suitcase. "I'll be sleeping in the guest room from now on. We will share this house until you sign. The moment you do, I will disappear."
The finality in her voice made one thing clear: whatever still bound them was already over.
He watched her drag the suitcase toward the door, a feeling of absolute loss of control washing over him. For the first time, he realized he wasn't just losing a wife. He was losing control of a woman he thought he owned.
"Stop!" he yelled, an edge of panic in his voice. "You're not going anywhere without my permission!"
