Chapter 39
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Elle
I flinch, my body stiffening in the aftermath of his departure. The space between us has never felt wider, more empty. The silence in the room feels suffocating, like it’s pressing down on me from all sides.
I stand there for a moment, frozen, trying to make sense of what’s just happened. I thought we were supposed to be partners – supposed to be a team – but this? This coldness from him? It’s like a wall has gone up between us, and I’m on the other side, unable to reach him.
I stare at the door he just stormed through, my breath shallow. My mind replays everything – how Seb’s eyes had met mine across the ballroom, how he’d looked at me with something that could have been suspicion, anger, or maybe both. I don’t know anymore.
I feel sick.
This isn’t what I wanted. None of this was supposed to happen. I thought the wedding would be the start of something real, something solid. But now? I can’t even tell where we stand anymore. And the worst part? I don’t know how much of it is my fault.
I try to focus, to steady my breathing, but the memory of Alexander’s gleeful smile cuts through me like a knife. He was so...pleased today. Watching us like we were part of some sick show. The way he’d looked at me while Seb and he exchanged words had made my skin crawl. I knew what he was doing – feeding off our tension, using it like a weapon.
And Seb...Seb has been cold. So cold. I can’t get over the way he’d looked at me, like I was some puzzle he couldn’t solve, a problem he wasn’t sure he wanted to fix. He’d said nothing when I tried to speak, barely reacting when I moved closer to him. It was like I was invisible – except when he was angry with me.
I shudder, the weight of everything pressing down on me again. The car ride after the wedding was so quiet, but not the comfortable kind of silence. No, it was filled with tension, the air thick with words left unsaid. Seb’s eyes were fixed out of the window, his jaw clenched, his body stiff. He hadn’t even looked at me when I’d tried to start a conversation. His coldness was like a physical thing, something I could touch, something that kept me at arm’s length.
And then, just when I thought maybe it was just a mood, maybe he’d snap out of it, he’d spoken. His words had been like ice, each one freezing me in place.
“You don’t have a choice,” he’d said, as if it were that simple, as if it were all just a business deal to him. As if what I want, as if consent, was irrelevant to him.
My knees buckle, my legs too weak to hold me up any longer. I collapse on the stairs as a sob bursts out of me, ragged and sharp, tearing through the silence of the house. I press my hands over my face, trying to contain it, but it’s no use. The tears come hard and fast, hot trails streaking down my cheeks as I gasp for breath.
Why? Why would he do this?
My heart sinks lower, my stomach churning. That’s all I am to him now, right? A contract. A piece of paperwork. Something he has to deal with.
The thought of it makes me sick.
But it’s not just his words. It’s the look in his eyes, the utter lack of warmth. His aloofness feels like a slap, a rejection that stings deeper than I want to admit.
My chest aches, the weight of it unbearable. He kissed me. He kissed me like he couldn’t get enough, like I was the only thing he’d ever wanted. His hands had held me so tightly, so possessively. He said I was his. He made me come undone…and then he just…walked away. Slammed the door. Left me here, alone, with no explanation. No answers.
My mind spirals, tumbling through memories and half-formed thoughts, searching desperately for something to make sense of this. He was angry, that much was obvious. But why? What did I do?
The prenup.
The word slams into me, twisting in my gut like a knife. He must know. He must have known all along what his father was planning. Maybe he’d even been part of it. The thought is like ice in my veins, cold and sharp and paralysing.
“No,” I whisper aloud, shaking my head as if I can banish the idea by sheer force of will. “He wouldn’t.”
But the passing thought from before has taken root now, and it grows with every passing second. The anger in his eyes, the coldness in his voice. What if it wasn’t just the prenup? What if he’s been playing me all along?
A fresh wave of sobs overtakes me, and I clutch the banister for support as I force myself to stand. I can’t stay here, crumpled and broken on the stairs. I need…I don’t know what I need. But I can’t sit here.
I grab my small clutch bag with my phone in it, and stagger upstairs, each step heavier than the last. When I reach the landing, my gaze drifts to the master suite. The double doors stand open, the soft glow of a bedside lamp spilling out into the hallway. I take a step toward it, then stop, my stomach twisting.
I can’t go in there. Not after what just happened. Not after he left me.
What does he expect from me here? To settle in? To pretend that everything is fine, that we’re fine? I don’t know how to play this game, how to act like I’m not drowning in this sea of confusion.
I glance out the landing window, the lights of the city flickering in the distance, but I don’t see any of it. All I can see is the house, the emptiness of it, the space between us that seems to stretch further with every second.
I feel like I’m losing him, slipping through his fingers. I don’t even know how to get him back, if that’s even what I want anymore. Everything’s been so mixed, so tangled. One moment he’s close, and the next he’s a million miles away. How can I fix this when I don’t even know where I stand?
And then there’s the truth – the truth about Alexander. Should I tell him? Should I risk opening up despite his father’s threats? But then again, what good would that do? I’m not sure he’d believe me. If I tell him everything – about Alexander, about the way he’s been manipulating us both – will Seb see me as a liar? Will he think I’ve been playing him all along?
I’m stuck.
Every thought I have leads to another question. How did we get here? How did we end up like this? I wish I could take it all back, undo the contracts, the lies, everything that’s led us to this point. But what good would that do? We’re already here, and there’s no going back.
Instead, I veer toward the nearest guest room. The bed is smaller, the space elegantly impersonal, but I don’t care. I grab my phone with shaking hands and dial Candy’s number. She picks up on the third ring, her voice bright and chipper, completely unaware of the wreck I’ve become.
“Elle! How’s it going? Did you blow his mind?”
At her words, the dam breaks again. I can’t even speak, just sob into the receiver as I sink onto the edge of the bed. For a moment, there’s only silence on the other end, and then her tone shifts, sharp and concerned.
“Elle? What’s wrong? What happened?”
Through my tears, I manage to choke out the words, spilling everything.
The kiss, the coldness, the prenup, the way he stormed out and left me standing there like I didn’t matter. By the time I’m done, my throat is raw, and Candy is seething.
“I’ll kill him,” she growls. “I’ll kill him and his bastard father. I’ll burn their entire fucking empire to the ground.”
A weak laugh escapes me, bitter and humorless. “It’s pointless, Candy. What’s done is done. I made my bed. Now I have to lie in it.”
“Bullshit,” she snaps. “You didn’t do anything wrong. He’s the one being a fucking coward.”
Her words should comfort me, but they only make the ache in my chest worse. “I don’t know what to do,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. “I’m so tired, Candy. I just…I can’t anymore.”
She softens, her tone losing its edge. “Listen to me, babe. You’re going to get some sleep, okay? I’ll come over first thing in the morning if you text me the address, and we’ll figure this out together. Everything looks worse when you’re exhausted and it’s been a hell of a day.”
I nod, even though she can’t see me. “Okay.”
“Promise me, Elle. Go to bed. No more crying, no more overthinking. Just sleep.”
“I promise.” The words are hollow, but they seem to satisfy her. We say our goodbyes, and I set the phone down on the nightstand, staring at it for a long moment before dragging myself to my feet.
The dress, the one I picked out with such hope, suddenly feels like a burden, a weight I can’t bear. I strip it off, along with the matching underwear, and let them fall to the floor in a heap. Wrapping a blanket around myself, I crawl into the bed and curl into a ball, the cool sheets offering little comfort.
The tears come again, slow and steady, soaking into the pillow as I toss and turn. My thoughts are a relentless storm, replaying every moment of the day in vivid, excruciating detail. The heat of his kiss, the way his hands had claimed me like I belonged to him, the flash of anger in his eyes as he turned away.
What changed? What did I do wrong? Should I tell him? Can I even trust him? The questions echo in my mind.
The house is silent, the air heavy, and every creak of the floorboards makes my heart clench, half-hoping, half-dreading, that Seb has come back. I imagine him walking through the door, his expression softening as he apologises, explains everything, holds me the way I so desperately need to be held.
But the hours drag on, and the emptiness of the house never changes.
Eventually, exhaustion claims me, pulling me into a restless, tear-streaked sleep. Dreams come in fragments, flashes of him standing just out of reach, his back turned, his voice echoing with words I can’t quite understand. I wake up over and over, my pillow damp, my chest aching.
By the time sleep finally takes hold of me properly, it’s the darkest hours of the night, and I never hear if Seb returns.