Chapter 2The Richest Husband in New York Was Drugged

Damien's voice was frigid. "Elara, Chloe is being discharged tomorrow. Since you clearly can't be around the children, I think it's best if you move to Blackwood Manor for a while."

I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. I'd left for the mountain sanctuary with almost nothing, and I was returning with even less. One suitcase held everything I owned.

I sat in the vast, empty manor, watching the sky bleed from dusk to dawn.

It was better this way, I told myself. At least I wouldn't have to watch their perfect little family of four.

Memories flooded back, a relentless tide.

Damien and I were childhood sweethearts. Eight years of marriage, the golden couple everyone in our circle envied.

Then he was drugged by a business rival and ended up with a college student. The first thing he did when he was sober was call me, his voice trembling. "Elara, I was set up! I paid her hush money. You'll never see her again!"

And I believed him.

But it wasn't long before this woman, Chloe, reappeared. Her parents had died in a sudden accident, and she'd found Damien—drunk at a business dinner. A second time. The first time was an accident. What was the second?

Then came the earthquake during his trip to the southern coast. It was a pregnant Chloe who had clawed him out of the wreckage with her bare hands.

With the weight of a life debt and the child in her belly, Damien was trapped.

He had knelt before me, tears streaming down his face, and I had given him my terms.

"Either we divorce."

"Or you make her disappear."

"I won't divorce you!" he'd cried, his eyes bloodshot. "But I have to take responsibility for her..."

He wouldn't let me go, but he wouldn't let her go either.

So I left. I went to a sanctuary in the mountains to find peace, until Damien's parents demanded I return for the birth of the children.

I pulled out my phone, the screen a stark white light in the darkness, and typed the message I should have sent months ago.

"Let's get a divorce."

Less than ten minutes later, the front door crashed open.

Damien burst in, his forehead beaded with sweat. "Elara! I don't agree to a divorce!"

I sat there on the sofa, a silent shadow in the cavernous room, and sighed. "It's over, Damien. I'm tired."

"I told you she would never affect us!" he pleaded, his voice shaking with desperation.

Just then, his phone shrieked.

Chloe's tear-choked voice came through the speaker. "Damien! The baby... from the fall... she has a fever! The doctor says she might need to go to the ICU!"

The color drained from Damien's face.

He looked from me to the phone, his expression torn. Finally, he spoke, the words tasting like ash.

"Elara, I... I have to go check on them..."

I watched his frantic retreat, and a bitter laugh escaped my lips.

So this was my marriage. Even our divorce had to wait in line behind another woman and her children.