Neglected Wife's Bitter Sweet Revenge

r Fro

for it, heart hammering against my ribs, convinced it was Braden, furious about my social medi

cautiousl

an urgency that instantly put me on edge. "Are you okay? I just

dread. Guy knew. My brother, my protector, the one person who had always seen th

th a confidence I didn't feel. "Braden and Destany we

how. He had his hands all over her, and she was practically sitting in his la

e fragile peace I had found. "Yes, Guy. I'm do

in his voice. "Because I'm coming over. And we're getting y

m downstairs. My blood ran cold. It wasn't Gu

ispered, my voice barely

y chest. The house was silent again, save for the frantic beat of my own pulse in my ears. I

room. It was Braden. He stood there, disheveled, his expensive suit rumpled,

ing my arm, his fingers digging into my flesh. His grip was bruising, painf

hot breath on my face reeked of whisky. "Deleting our photos? Posting

coldness, his casual cruelty, flooded my mind. I was nothing more than an object to him, a possession. The disgust welled up inside me,

hought you'd finally caught me." He scoffed, a sneer twisting his lips. "All these years, playing the innocent, suffering wife. But I know you, Elinor. You're just as calculating as the rest of them. Playing the victim to get what you want.

uldn't let him see the pain he inflicted. I swallowed the sob that threatened to

ed him. And the realization was

our families intertwined by business and social circles. He had been the charming, mischievous boy, I the quiet, observant girl. I had watched him grow, watche

"unsuitable" for the Harmon empire, citing her unpredictable nature and lack of "business acumen." He had threatened to cut Braden off, to disinherit him,

t, viewing me as the "safe" option, the one his grandfather approved of. I was the shortcut he was forced to take, a constant reminder of the love he had to gi

. He' d watched, detached, as his friends rushed to my aid. Or the times he would call me late at night, drunk, demanding I pick him up from some bar, barely acknowledging my presence in the car, only to coldly ask, "A

smell of stale alcohol hanging in the air. Braden was gone, of course. Always gone. The shame washed over me, a suffoc

once shared. But every passing day had only highlighted the chasm between us, a chasm filled with his resentment

d, the question escaping my lips before I could s

ty gestures, I knew even then, but a tiny flicker of hope, of the boy I once knew, would always ignite. I would wake up

rose, no chocolate, just the cold, empty b

nd woman with a perpetually worried expression, stepped forward. "Mrs

pared by me. I used to spend hours poring over cookbooks, experimenting with recipes, trying to create something that would finally earn his

e firm, surprising even myself. "Tell Mr. Harmon he w

suppressed, crossed my face. The "urgent meeting" excuse the nurse had given me, the public display with Destany, and his drunken rag

y brother, Guy, had sent it. It was a draft for divorce proceedings. I had dismissed it then,

t he had married me because his grandfather, Keshawn Harmon, the formidable CEO of Harmon Records, had orchestrated it. Keshawn didn't care about love; he cared about assets. My father's

ing symbol of failure, now felt li

said, a faint smile touching

s, that this marriage was over. It had been over for

r the phone. I had