Chapter 1 #2
Lucas used to answer. Early in our marriage, when I still held a shred of his attention. I prayed silently for that miracle again. I couldn't walk anymore. I was in pain, freezing, miserable. I felt hypothermia setting in.
The phone rang. "Hello, this is Lucas Rockefeller. I..."
Out of spite, I hung up. Dialed again. No answer. Third time. Fourth. Fifteenth. Each long wait ended only with that emotionless automated voice.
I stared at the screen, tears streaming. As I prepared to dial the sixteenth time, a merciless low battery warning popped up. Then the screen died in front of me without warning.
My last connection to the world severed. I stared at the black screen and finally collapsed into sobs in that silent, frozen rain.
I once thought my husband would be my shelter. Now I knew better. Nobody would truly help me. My future stretched out like this endless downpour—infinite and ice-cold.
I don't know how long it took. Sheer willpower dragged me back to Rockefeller Manor.
At the facial recognition screen, my reflection startled me: ashen face, purple lips, tangled hair, looking like a monster crawled from the depths.
To avoid the staff, I snuck in through the back door like a thief.
The heavy door shut out the storm. The manor's heating wrapped around me instantly.
The extreme temperature shift made me shudder, teeth chattering.
A hot bath would fix everything. I'd be fine. I told myself numbly.
But passing the second-floor study, raised voices through the half-open door nailed my feet to the floor.
"Lucas! You haven't been home in two months! What do you think this place is, a hotel?"
I hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but Mr. Rockefeller's roar was impossible to miss.
"You should ask yourself that." Lucas, cold as ever. I couldn't help edging closer. I wanted to know what Lucas was thinking, too.
"What should I reflect on? I built everything for you. Rockefeller Group, and a traditional, obedient wife."
"A wife?" Lucas let out a harsh laugh. "You mean the care aide?"
I closed my eyes. The world tilted.
What was wrong with being a care aide? Why did I hear mockery in his words?
As my husband, was this how he viewed my former work?
"Regardless, Lucas, Ella loves you." When Mr. Rockefeller said that, I wanted to burst in and beg him to stop. My love for someone who didn't love me back felt like a public execution of my dignity.
"I don't deny that." Lucas sounded dismissive. "But I think compared to me, Ella loves my money more. Doesn't she?" Lucas paused. "Because my money can save her sister's life."
I clamped my hand over my mouth. Tears fell instantly.
I couldn't deny it. This marriage started as a transaction to save Maya.
But over two years, I'd given him everything.
How could a woman who didn't love her husband endure two years of cold violence?
He was so smart. He knew everything. So why twist my feelings this viciously, trample my dignity this way?
"That's Ella's sister, and she's your family too." Mr. Rockefeller's voice dropped to a growl. "You're a married man now. Spend your time and energy on family, not tangled up with random women out there!"
Those words hit like a sledgehammer to the back of my skull. Lucas had other women? Was that the truth behind the two months away?
My head spun. Today had been too much. I couldn't take anymore.
Wait. Could it be a misunderstanding? After all, Lucas inevitably had to interact with women in professional settings. The thought barely formed before I bit my lip hard enough to taste blood, wanting to slap myself.
God, Ella, you're insane! Still making excuses for someone who just completely dismissed you!
"You mean Vivian?" Lucas gave a short, light laugh, tone cheerful. "If you're talking about Vivian, I'm not separating from her."
All the blood in my body froze.
"Vivian? Your college ex-girlfriend?" Mr. Rockefeller pressed.
"Now my assistant. I've known her a long time, yes." Lucas paused. "But compared to Ella, she really is more suited to be my wife."
I couldn't listen anymore. I wanted to run, but my feet were nailed to the study doorway, unable to move an inch.
Lucas and Vivian. Tabloid regulars. Hours ago, I'd stood in the storm clutching my phone, desperately explaining to Maya it was just media fabrication for attention. But now, I couldn't deceive myself anymore.
They spent more than half of every year traveling the world together on business. A man and a woman, morning to night. Besides, they matched perfectly—background, looks, ability. Something happening between them made complete sense.
I couldn't think about it anymore.
"That's what you think!" Mr. Rockefeller dismissed Lucas's answer with contempt. "Remember this, Ella is your wife. Don't forget your wedding vows!"
Lucas's voice grew colder. "Since I was a kid, you've been in the habit of arranging everything for me—"
Suddenly, a phone ringtone interrupted.
Lucas cut the conversation short amid the ringing. "But I'm telling you now, everything in this manor, I hate it all."
Everything? That naturally included me...
Lucas's voice drifted from the study. "Vivian?" Then his footsteps receded.
My brain processed it like an outdated computer: Lucas was answering his phone? The study was cramped—he must have gone to the balcony to take the call.
I didn't care what he said to Vivian. My mind was full of that ringtone. It rang for less than two seconds before he answered.
So Lucas could pick up instantly. Even mid-argument with his grandfather.
Then what about when I'd called desperately, over and over, until my battery died—what did that mean? I'd made a million excuses for him. Maybe he was busy. Maybe he didn't hear. Maybe his phone was on silent...
But now, imagining him coldly watching my calls disconnect and redial, over and over again, I felt so embarrassed. No wonder he looked down on me... Who could love someone so clingy, so self-erasing?
I thought the storm had frozen my heart solid. But in this moment, it shattered again.
If something had happened to me in that storm half an hour ago, no one in this world would cry for me except my sister. Not even this man I'd loved for two whole years.
Tears poured down again at the thought of Maya.
Her body so frail, every breath painful, yet she still worried about me over the phone. She was the only person in the world who cared. How could I let this rotting marriage make her anxious on a sickbed?
Enough. Really, enough. I couldn't drain myself dry in this undignified cold war. I had to care for her. I had to wake up.
Turning from that door, I made my decision.
I wanted a divorce. As fast as possible.