te tapestries, where I sat alone every night. His absence was a constant, stark rejection, making me feel

. The staff moved around me like silent, efficient robots, their faces carefully neutral, thei

er plays. His focus remained entirely on business, a vast, impenetrable world where I had no place. He never acknowledged my presence, not a glance, not a word, not even a casual nod. His deliberate ignorance was a searing insult, a painful reminder of my worthlessness in his eyes, as if I were a shameful secret he kept locke

uiet room. A silent maid, her starched uniform perfectly pressed, poured water into my glass, then retreated to

er. "Could you tell me if Mr. Cecil is expec

out on business, Mrs. Cecil. He has prior engagements that prevent his presence at dinner." The response was aut

shing reality of my lonely nights. The very formality of my separate dining arrangements, always "for one" in the l

. One evening, as I sat alone in my private sitting room, staring blankly at a book I couldn't read, the light shifted. I hadn't heard a

ed me, hadn't sent a maid, hadn't given any indication of his approach; he simply appeared, asserting his right to intrude on my meager space

, no polite greeting, no softening of the blow. Just a cold, precise statement of terms. He had come to lay down the rules, solidifying my non-existent status in his life. He outlined my contractual insignificance, stripping away any

disinterest. "Elise," he stated, his tone devoid of warmth, a command rather than an address, his voice a hammer blow. "We nee

my eyes that I quickly suppressed. "Ground rules

y circumstances," he began, his voice flat, emotionless, an iron decree. "My business life is off-limits to you. Completely. You will not interfere, you will not question, unless your presence is explicitly required for public appearances that serve my interests." He paused, a calculated silence. "You will attend social dinners only wh

confirmation that I was nothing more than a temporary, transactional asset, and the pain of it was a searing ache in my heart. He wasn't just dismissing me; he was actively concealing me, reducing me to a hidden formality