Once Invisible, Now Irreplaceable

The man slept heavily. His harsh features were relaxed, his usually piercing eyes hidden beneath closed lids, making his face unreadable.

Beside him, Elena Ashcroft struggled to push herself out of bed. Her body felt numb and battered. Hunching slightly against an invisible weight, she swept her long hair over her shoulder and bent to gather her clothes from the floor.

The moment her fingers brushed the fabric, a voice cut through the silence behind her.

"How much do you want?"

His tone was flat, stripped of any emotion. The heat and haze of the previous night had vanished, completely erased the second he woke.

Elena froze, her blouse clutched in her hand. A bitter wave of irony washed over her. She had been legally bound to this man for years, yet he didn't even know who she was.

Three years ago, she had done a massive favor for his grandfather, Gareth Blackwood.

At the time, her father's company had been on the verge of collapse. Gareth had offered her a lifeline: marry his grandson, Ethan Blackwood, in exchange for a three-hundred-million-dollar investment to save the business.

Ethan, however, had been entirely absent from the process. It was only after the marriage was officially registered that she learned he had already left the country.

For three long years, she had been Ethan's wife in name only. A phantom wife-ignored by his family and constantly ridiculed by outsiders. She never could have imagined that their first real encounter would happen like this.

"I don't want anything," she finally replied.

She resumed dressing, her movements stiff and mechanical. Her head throbbed, heavy and ready to split open from the lingering alcohol.

"If it's not money, what? Are you planning to stay?" Ethan let out a low, mocking laugh.

His cold, piercing gaze slid over her without an ounce of restraint. She was undeniably beautiful. She had a flawless figure, silky skin, and an elegant demeanor.

But in his eyes, that didn't make her any different from the countless other women scheming to catch his attention.

"You got what you wanted," he said, sitting up against the headboard. "Don't expect anything more. That would be a mistake."

Even though he had been drinking last night, he knew his limits. He never would have lost control like that for no reason. Something was wrong. The glass she had handed him... there must have been something in it.

Fully dressed now, Elena thought back to the evening.

The Blackwood banquet had been packed with influential figures. Everyone had come to catch a glimpse of the man poised to take the reins of the family empire.

She had arrived late.

Even from abroad, Gareth had expressly ordered her to attend. She had planned to make a brief appearance and slip away, but her father had stopped her, pressing two glasses of wine into her hands.

He had urged her to use the opportunity to finally speak with Ethan, who had just returned to the country.

And then... everything had spiraled out of control.

Elena knew perfectly well that Ethan had never wanted this marriage. So how could she possibly convince him that last night wasn't her doing? A flicker of helplessness crossed her eyes.

After a brief silence, she parted her lips to speak. "Actually..."

The phone resting on the nightstand suddenly buzzed.

Ethan glanced at the screen. It was his personal lawyer. He answered, putting it on speaker.

"Mr. Blackwood, I checked Ms. Ashcroft's apartment. She isn't there. Should I send the divorce papers to her family's estate?"

Ethan stood up and walked toward the floor-to-ceiling windows. He stared out at the river in the distance, his brow furrowing slightly. This wife he had been tied to for three years... he didn't even have a concrete memory of her face.

He had been told she was gentle and well-educated. So what? The Ashcroft family had weathered their crisis, and his grandfather's debt was settled.

"Contact her first. Make sure she signs them." His voice was sharp and final.

"Understood. And if she refuses?"

"Then handle it with her family."

Standing near the door, Elena checked her own phone. A message from her father had popped up on the screen.

"Did you leave early yesterday? Katrina asked me to check: did Ethan drink from the glass I gave you?"

Her fingers froze over the screen.

A second message immediately followed.

"Katrina had something else to attend to. If you can, go see your sister at the hospital. She says she's thinking of you."

A cold sense of unease rose in Elena's chest. She understood immediately. None of this was a coincidence. Last night... someone had orchestrated the whole thing.

"Are you okay? Are you still drunk?" Her father texted shortly after.

He was clearly worried, assuming she was just suffering from the excesses of the banquet.

Elena drew in a slow, steady breath. Her mother had died a long time ago, and her father, despite being overwhelmed by his business, had always done his best to protect her. She didn't want to add to his worries.

"I'm fine. I'll go see Bridget later. Tell Katrina thank you for her concern."

Across the room, Ethan continued his phone call, the topic now shifting to business matters.

Elena lifted her gaze. Morning sunlight bathed the room, outlining the broad silhouette of the man standing by the window. Dressed in a crisp white shirt, he stood perfectly straight, as motionless as a statue. He was undeniably handsome, but his profile remained harsh, distant, and utterly icy.

Slipping her phone into her pocket, she turned and walked out the door without another word.

Since he was already planning to divorce her, it was better not to complicate things. If he found out he had just slept with the wife he so deeply despised, the situation would only become more humiliating. She might as well just disappear quietly.

Ethan hung up a moment later. Only then did he remember the woman who had been standing there just minutes ago.

He turned around. The room was dead silent. She was gone.

A deep crease formed between his brows.

The bed was unmade, the sheets tangled in disarray. A discarded shirt still lay at the foot of the bed. The mingled scent of her perfume and red wine still lingered in the air.

He ran a hand wearily over his forehead. If not for the stain on the sheets, he almost could have convinced himself that the entire night had been nothing but a fever dream.

A sharp knock sounded at the door.

"Mr. Blackwood," a voice called from the hallway.

"Come in."

The door opened to reveal his secretary, Grant, carrying an impeccably pressed suit.

Grant hesitated for a fraction of a second upon seeing the state of the room, but wisely kept his mouth shut. He set the clothes down and discreetly stepped back out.

Ethan headed into the bathroom. After a quick shower, he dressed in the fresh suit and stepped back out.

Grant fell into step behind him at a respectful distance. Just as they were about to leave the suite, Ethan stopped abruptly.

"The woman who left here this morning... Who was she?"

Thinking back to the scandalous state of the room, Grant replied in a rushed, flustered tone, "I'll go find her immediately-"

Ethan narrowed his eyes slightly, pausing. He realized it was useless to pursue the matter. If the trap had been set with such precision, whoever was behind it would undoubtedly show their hand again soon enough.

"That won't be necessary."

Meanwhile, Elena returned to her apartment in total silence. She let out a shaky breath, struggling to keep her composure, before collapsing onto her bed without even bothering to change clothes.

She closed her eyes, but sleep was impossible. Her mind remained stubbornly fixated on the man she had just left behind.

At first, she hadn't known how to react to what was happening, completely caught off guard by the raw intensity of the night. Now, in the harsh light of day, a deep, icy fear settled into her bones, coursing through her veins.

Yet it wasn't just the shock of the experience. Ethan had been her first. She could have accepted losing that to him without too much difficulty... if only, in the heat of the moment, he hadn't called out another woman's name.

Marion.

That name still echoed painfully in her memory. That was the real reason he wanted a divorce.

Even utterly exhausted, Elena couldn't fall asleep. Every slight shift of her body reminded her of the lingering ache. Uncomfortable and restless, she eventually sat up and pulled open the drawer of her nightstand.

Inside lay their marriage certificate.

On the day they were supposed to register, Ethan hadn't even bothered to show up. Her father had pulled strings to force the paperwork through despite his absence, leaving her standing completely alone at the county clerk's office.

It was the first time she had ever really taken a good look at the document. After a brief glance, she tossed it back inside as if it meant nothing, then got up to go see Bridget.

By the time she arrived at the hospital, it was exactly noon. The nurses had already gone on their lunch break.

Bridget, lying quietly in her hospital bed, lifted her head the moment she walked in. Her pale face lit up with surprise, and she immediately pushed herself up.

"Elena? What are you doing here?"

She still looked incredibly fragile, but her tone was bright and light.

"Dad is worrying too much again, isn't he? I told him I was perfectly fine, though... And I specifically asked him not to bother you with it."

Elena walked over and took a seat beside the bed, handing her sister a glass of warm water.

"He can't help it. He just really worries about you."

Bridget had always been in delicate health. Her attacks could be violent-just taking a few steps was often enough to leave her gasping for breath, and her hospitalizations were painfully frequent. That was also why their father Dean paid such special attention to her.

Bridget gave a small, exaggerated pout.

"I'm so sick of being stuck in here. Mom stays glued to my side all day, and I can't even eat what I want..."

She leaned in a little closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

"I heard the nurses talking about a new fruit milkshake shop nearby... It sounds so good."

She grabbed Elena's hand, flashing an almost childishly pleading smile.

"You're the best. Just a little sip. It won't hurt..."

Faced with that desperately hopeful look, Elena couldn't help but give in. She went downstairs to buy the milkshake.

Once back in the room, she handed it over with a strict warning.

"Just a taste, okay? Don't swallow it."