The Unwilling Wife

avy diamond ring on my finger. I flexed my hand, the skin ba

by Sophia, the fake scandal hit the papers. A doctored photo, a paid-off witness. My engagement to David was shattered, my reput

s, a place where I was tolerated but not welcomed. My days started with the chilling politeness of the

rnous dining room to find them already seated. Mr. Thorne was hidden behind a newspaper, Mrs. Thorne was inspecting

d, my voice sounding to

ool. "You' re late. We eat at ei

e," I replied, taking a seat

s they don' t have schedu

ilence stretched, thick and uncomfortable. I knew this was a test. In my first lif

ooking at me. "She' s helping me plan the charity gala. Since yo

g with a client about the museum annex project." It was a lie, but a n

ly sculpted eyebrows r

said simply. "I'

r, you can' t possibly let her keep working. What would

e room, followed by a flustered maid. The dog ran circles around the table before leaping directly onto Chloe' s lap, knocki

of their reactions. The maid gasped in horror. Chloe shrieke

"Oh, poor Chloe! Are you alright? Let me help you." She dabbed at Chloe' s dress with a napkin, shooting me a look tha

my fault. I was the clumsy oaf who had somehow caused this. Mrs. Thorne glared at

ic. But I didn' t move. I looked directly at Chloe, my voice calm and

anger. "Are you blaming my

the sticky fabric away from my skin. "Now if you' ll

e into the hall, her voice dripping with fake concern. "Eleanor, are you okay? Don' t mind Chl

ia," I said, turning to face her. "

rd, calculating woman beneath. "You' re playing a dangerous

hing you' ve ever said,"

my mother' s entire house, and stripped off the stained b

n in the mirror, at the woman with fire in her eyes. I was no longer the girl who cried over spilled juice. I was a for