Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Lucas
A divorce agreement lay on the nightstand.
I stared at that paper like it was a hallucination.
Impossible.
I had to be seeing things.
I grabbed the agreement, my hands shaking so badly the pages rattled between my fingers. I scanned line by line, searching for some flaw, some proof this was just a sick joke.
But Ella's signature was there, clear and firm at the bottom of that column. Every stroke radiated finality.
The wedding ring my grandmother had passed down sat next to the agreement, the diamond's cold light stabbing straight into my eyes. Cold enough to cut bone.
My usually sharp mind seized up like rusted gears that wouldn't turn.
I moved mechanically into the room, searching every corner for traces of her. Closet, vanity, bed... Every valuable item remained untouched.
Only her worthless everyday clothes were gone.
An unfamiliar bewilderment crashed over me like a tidal wave, swallowing me whole.
Ella was gone.
Why would she leave?
My brain went blank, like a computer forced to shut down. I could only stand there, frozen. Time lost meaning. Eventually, through the fog, I heard someone urgently calling my name, but I couldn't process it.
Not until Mrs. Hughes appeared directly in front of me.
"Sir," panic flashed across her face, her usually immaculate appearance disheveled, "Mr. Rockefeller wants to see you. He's furious."
I closed my eyes and drew a deep breath, feeling strength slowly return to my body.
Of course Grandfather would know. He liked controlling everything. Nothing happened at the manor without his knowledge.
I shoved that ice-cold divorce agreement deep into the drawer—couldn't bear to look at it again—then practically fled to Grandfather's room.
When I pushed open the door, heavy drapes blocked the light. Everything in the room appeared submerged underwater, all shapes blurred.
"Lucas, get in here."
Grandfather's voice sounded muffled and distant.
I walked forward mechanically. Grandfather sat in his wheelchair, his breathing rapid and labored. Then came the dull thud of something hitting the carpet, shattered glass catching the light—a crystal ashtray in pieces.
Grandfather started cursing me, saying I'd driven Ella away, saying he'd warned me.
His rage made him spit as he spoke: "You're going to regret this! You'll never find another woman as good as Ella!"
"Grandfather—" I croaked, my throat so dry I could barely speak. I didn't want to argue. I just wanted one answer. "Why did she leave?"
"You have the nerve to ask me?" Grandfather's cane crashed against the floor. "Everyone could see Ella genuinely loved you, but what did you treat her like? Some disposable decoration? A tool to defy me?"
His words hit me like lightning.
A nagging answer took root in my mind. Even Grandfather believed this. So when Ella signed those divorce papers, did she think the same thing?
I couldn't answer him. My thoughts were completely scrambled, voices tangling together, making my head pound. Before, I might've argued back, insisted I was right. But now, I just needed an answer. Even if Grandfather was wrong, at least he offered a possibility I'd never dared consider.
I turned and walked out. Grandfather kept shouting behind me. I couldn't hear a word.
I couldn't stay at the manor without Ella. Every inch of air seemed saturated with her presence, like an invisible net strangling me.
I drove numbly. By the time I snapped to attention, muscle memory had taken me toward the office.
How pathetic. I'd left Ella, and I had nowhere else to go!
I didn't care what employees who knew I'd taken extended leave would think about me suddenly showing up.
Only one thought consumed me: Ella was gone. She'd abandoned me.
It happened too suddenly. According to my original plan, right now Ella and I should be sitting in first class to Reykjavik.
We'd see the impossibly blue ice caves at Vatnajokull Glacier, wait for the aurora to sweep across the night sky like silk at the black sand beach, listen to the deafening roar of Seljalandsfoss. ..
But now those visions of our future had shattered. Among all the chaotic thoughts, only one emerged crystal clear:
I didn't want a divorce!
I never planned to separate from Ella!
No. I couldn't just sit here.
I grabbed my phone and called Ella.
It rang forever, maybe a century. Finally, I heard faint static. She'd picked up.
"Ella—"
"What do you have to say?" Her voice was ice cold, emotionless through the static.
"Ella, why do you want to divorce me?" My voice came out more agitated than I'd intended.
"Are you upset because I filed first? Is your ego that fragile?"
When Ella said that, the blood in my veins turned cold.
Her attitude was too strange. I could hear intense anger in her tone. She was still furious. So everything happening now—was this just her venting emotions on impulse?
"Ella, we should talk." I softened my voice, trying to regain control. "We're married. What gives you the right to divorce me without a single word of explanation?"
"If you just called to pick a fight, I'm blocking you."
Her words struck me as absurd.
"Block me? Ella, what the hell are you doing?
You think this is fair to me?" I gripped the phone tighter, that sense of being shut out making my nose sting, but more than that, a provoked indignation.
"You didn't even give me a hint. You just silently left a divorce agreement and moved out.
You made every decision unilaterally without giving me a chance to talk face-to-face.
We've lived together for two years. Don't I even deserve a proper explanation?
Tell me your address! Tell me where you are. I'll come right now. We need to meet!"
If she was playing some disappearing act to get my attention, she'd succeeded. Just like that time she used Mrs. Hughes to trick me into coming back to our room. I'd compromise for her. Again and again.
"Unless it's to sign divorce papers, there's nothing to discuss." She spoke rapidly, her tone resolute.
I froze.
Did Ella know what she was saying?
"Lucas, let me go. It's better for both of us. Where I am doesn't concern you anymore. Don't waste your time looking for me."
The next second, she hung up.
I swore viciously and called back. The phone rang a few times before she hung up again.
I wouldn't give up. I called again.
This time, the phone barely rang—not even half a ring—before cutting off, then a cold robotic voice directed me to voicemail.
Ella had kept her word.
She'd blocked my number.
That realization felt like ice water dumped over my head, freezing me to the core.
I'd never imagined a day when Ella would unilaterally cut off contact.
She wouldn't even give me a chance to speak, which meant she wanted nothing to do with me.
She used to be the woman who loved me most in the world, but now she dared to abandon me.
Something blocked my chest. I couldn't breathe.
I could handle acquisitions with terrifying amounts of information, but I couldn't handle my own marriage. That sense of defeat made me burn with frustration. What gave her the right to walk away so decisively?
I closed my eyes and sat in my office chair for a while, forcing myself to calm down, then dialed Saint Heart Sanatorium.
"Hello, is Maya Bruce available?"
"I'm sorry, sir." The receptionist's voice was polite with formulaic courtesy. "Ms. Bruce completed all transfer procedures yesterday."
"Transfer?" My voice cracked, almost a shout. "Where to?"
"I'm sorry, that's patient privacy. We can't disclose that information."
The call ended again.
I slumped in my office chair, staring despairingly at the darkened phone screen, one thought consuming me: Maya was gone too.
Maya was critically ill. Only Ella could have taken her.
This was premeditated, not some impulsive decision.
Drafting divorce papers, contacting Maya's next hospital... Everything took time. Yet during all that preparation, I hadn't noticed any clues. I never imagined Ella capable of such cunning. I turned it over and over in my mind but couldn't figure out why she'd left.
Or maybe Ella wasn't that good an actress, which confirmed my earlier feeling: I'd paid too little attention to Ella lately.
An unprecedented sense of defeat pierced through me.
In that moment, I finally understood clearly: Ella wasn't acting impulsively, wasn't playing hard to get. She genuinely didn't want me anymore.
Because I'd returned, work that had been delegated flooded back to my desk like a tide. Every document waited for my signature and decisions, but I couldn't focus on anything.
Soon, people at the company noticed something was wrong. Those entering and leaving my office avoided eye contact. Reports became unprecedentedly brief. The usual chatter from the break room vanished.
The atmosphere across the executive floor became a powder keg ready to explode. Everyone kept their distance.
Late that night, I slept in the lounge at the company.
Over the past six months, I'd spent more than half my time sleeping here. Ironically, before, though my body slept here, my heart was at the manor. I knew a light would always be on there. The lounge only relaxed my body—it couldn't shelter my soul.
But now, with Ella gone, my soul had nowhere to go. Without Ella, I was homeless wherever I went.
This loss of control left me both furious and bewildered.
The chain reaction after Ella's departure hit harder than I'd expected.
The manor's operations nearly ground to a halt. Mrs. Hughes was completely lost with the complex electronic purchasing systems and smart appliances. Then, a dozen charity organizations called with inquiries. All the monthly donations Ella had single-handedly managed had lost contact.