Rising From His Ashes of Betrayal

he edges of my existence. I moved through the penthouse like a phantom, my presence as unsettling as his absence.

o tiny, clear capsules. And a handwritten note, in Daniel's familiar, precise script: Eleanor, these are the final iteration. The first will mimic heart failure within 24

icket out. My weapon. Without a moment's hesitation, I twisted open the first capsule and swallowed it, the bitte

ining capsule and Daniel's note into the deepest pocket of my dressing gown, my movements swift and pract

evoid of warmth. His gaze lingered on my face, a fr

ying the quiet," I replied, my voice steady, betraying none

s eyes – suspicion? Concern? It was impossible to tell. He cleared his th

Of course." My voi

n my face. "You're being unusually

. Just tired of fighting." I turned away, dismissing him, walking to the window.

answered, his voice softening. "Daphne, my dove? Are you feeling better?" His words were a fresh stab, a cruel reminder o

t be late." His voice was back to its usual cold tone, the brief warmth for Daphn

ted windows of the limousine. My assistant, a nervous young woman named Sa

eyes were on me. The cameras flashed, a blinding assault, capturing every angle of

inally had enough, can you blame him?" "She looks like death warmed over." "Serves her right, after what she did." Their wor

unwavering stare. Their words were just air, meaningless sounds in the grand symphony of my

ce chimed in, "Rumor has it he's with that mute little barista. The one Eleanor supposedly attacked." Laughter, crue

s working, a subtle pressure behind my eyes, a faint tremor in my hands. The world f

w set. And beside him, clinging to his arm, was Daphne. She was exquisite, a vision in a flowing ivory gown, her hair intricately styled, her eyes downcast, radiati

me across the room, his eyes narrowing, a flicker of warning in their depths. He

"Don't you dare," he hissed, his voice low and dangerous, "not tonight. D

lled out a tiny, antique silver pencil and a miniature notepad. Her hand trembled as she began to write, her brow

alright, Daphne," he murmured, his voice a balm. He turned to me, his eyes blazing once more. "Don't bo

elieve me, she can scream. I've heard it myself." My gaze raked over Daphne, a silent challenge. "Or doe

. She shook her head desperately, her hands clasped together in a silent plea, a picture o

Are you truly so consumed by your own madness that you would accuse an i

latches onto powerful men, pretends to be fragile, and sucks them dry. She's nothing bu

e vehemently this time, her sile

obedience. A clean slate. A pure... womb. Isn't that what you called it, Adrien? A pure lineag

he impact rattling my teeth. My head snapped back, the world tilting precariously. "You will never speak of her that way again!" he roared, his voice shaki

ing headache I knew was coming. But through the pain, a cold, hard clarity settled in my mind. "Fine,"

spoken in tongues. "A divorce?" he scoffed, a desperate, hollow laugh escaping his lips. "You're t

k on me, walking back to Daphne, who clung to him like a terrified child. He didn't spare me another glance. H

condemnation, washed over me. I felt nothing. Just a hollow emptiness, a strange sense of liberation. Le

I needed air. I found a dimly lit ladies' room, the cool marble a welcome relief against my ac

ine in the reflection. A triumphant smirk played on her lips. "You really thought you could win, didn't you, Elea