03

The Donovan Residence stood silent and imposing as Elena RoseFord returned to it in the late hours of the night. The weight of exhaustion settled upon her shoulders, but she mustered the strength to continue forward.

As she made her way through the dimly lit hallway, the soft glow of the living room spilled into her path. A mixture of trepidation and curiosity tugged at her, urging her to glance inside. And there, at the scene that unfolded before her, a wave of tension hung heavy in the air.

Her husband, Damon Donovan, sat at the dining table, sharing a meal with her mother-in-law, Laura. Their presence cast a pall over the room, the atmosphere charged with unspoken animosity. 

Laura's gaze pierced through Elena, her eyes filled with disdain. With a resounding clatter, she threw her spoon onto the table, the clinking of metal against wood echoing. "I do not want to eat anymore!" she declared. "My appetite is ruined."

Elena felt the weight of Laura's words settle upon her like an invisible cloak of condemnation.

The tension in the room threatened to suffocate her, the hostility palpable even in the dimly lit space.

Elena ignored her and walked straight ahead.

In the face of Laura's contempt, Elena straightened her posture, summoning an inner strength that would shield her from the daggers of disapproval. 

"Stop!" Damon Donovan suddenly opened his mouth.

When Elena turned back to look at him, Damon sneered and pointed at the ground. "Kneel down and crawl to me." He shouted at her like she was a dog.

Elena pursed her lips and lowered her head, masking her expression. 

"What? You do not want to?"

Elena still did not move, refusing to entertain Damon.

Her indifference fueled a growing anger within Damon, causing him to rise abruptly from the table. With heavy footsteps, he stormed towards Elena.

Without hesitation, he seized her chin forcefully, tilting her face upwards, and locked his gaze with hers, his eyes burning with accusation.

"Elena RoseFord," he spat her name with contempt. "Have I not treated you well enough? I provide you with a monthly allowance worth thousands of dollars, allowing you a life of luxury without the need to work tirelessly." Each syllable he uttered tore at her spirit, fueling a fire within her that burned with indignation. "All I asked was for you to prepare a meal for my mother, and yet you betray me? You dare to cheat on me?"

The weight of Damon's grip and the venom lacing his words sent tremors through Elena's body. She felt the sting of his accusations, the sheer injustice of his assumptions weighing heavily upon her. 

"Ha, ha!" In that pivotal moment, Elena found her voice, her eyes narrowing with determination. "Did you really think that that is considered as good treatment? In that case, why do not you hire a servant instead? At least a servant still has rights and control over her own life." 

In that charged moment, Elena's words hung in the air, a defiant challenge to the toxic dynamic that had defined their relationship. 

The room trembled with the weight of their unspoken truths, leaving Damon to confront the consequences of his own actions. 

She braced herself against his rough grasp, refusing to cower beneath his gaze. The strength within her surged. "Me? I have nothing! If you think that I am having such a good life, why do not you switch with me? I'll give you 10,000 dollars every month. You serve your mother and myself. You do not need to do much, just make us three meals a day. What do you say?"

Slap!

Damon gave Elena a hard slap.

Elena subconsciously returned the slap, but she was held back by Damon.

"Do you want to die?" His words slashing through the air like a knife. "I do not think you realize just how low your pathetic father stooped today. He begged me, on his knees, not to divorce you. He pleaded for forgiveness one last time, showing the depths of his desperation. And yet, you dare to raise your hand against me?"

Elena felt her heart sink, her breath catching in her throat. The revelation of her father's desperation stabbed at her. The realization settled heavily upon her, a bittersweet mix of betrayal and newfound clarity.

As Damon's threat hung in the air, Elena's fists clenched, her nails digging into her palms. A seething anger surged within her, fueled by the knowledge that her husband was nothing more than a scumbag.

Tears welled in Elena's eyes, but she fought to keep them at bay, refusing to let her vulnerability be weaponized against her. 

Damon's grip on Elena's wrist loosened, but the sting of his touch lingered upon her skin. "That's good. Is not it better if you act like this from now on. You are lucky that you have a good father."

His patronizing pat on her cheek was like a mockery of affection, a reminder that her worth in his eyes was reduced to that of a docile, obedient wife. The bitterness swelled within her, a mixture of anger and sadness for the woman she had become, trapped in a loveless and oppressive marriage. "If he did not kneel down and beg me, I wouldn't have let you off so easily. Be a good girl from now on, or else do not blame me for not considering our relationship as husband and wife."

A cold dread settled within her as his condescending words fell upon her like shards of broken glass. 

After Damon finished talking, he looked at the servant next to him and said, "Keep an eye on Young Madam. If she goes out and stirs up trouble again, you will be the one responsible!"

"Yes sir!"

**

Three days later, in the Granger family's mansion, the second floor housed a study room adorned in a subtle yet luxurious European style. The room emanated an aura of sophistication and refinement, with its meticulously curated black-themed decor.

As one stepped into the study, a sense of calmness and quietude permeated the air. The walls, adorned with tasteful artwork, provided a visual feast for the eyes, while the soft lighting cast an intimate ambiance. Bookshelves lined the walls, their shelves filled with a vast collection of knowledge and wisdom.

Harley Louis leaned casually against the window, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Let me tell you," he began, his voice alive with animated chatter. "Those old geezers in the Granger family are something else. The moment they caught sight of you returning, I swear, they were spewing curses under their breaths."

As he spoke, he gestured emphatically with his hands. Harley paused for dramatic effect, a smirk playing on his lips. "But of course," he added with a theatrical sigh, "they had to put on their best fake smiles and welcome you back with open arms. Honestly, they should be nominated for Oscars with the performance they put on."

Aaron Granger paid no heed to Harley's chatter. His slender fingers were holding a cigarette which had stopped burning since a while ago.

When Harley finally stopped talking, Aaron asked, "Where's the person I asked you to look for?"

Harley gulped. "It is really not my fault." He sighed, "Sir, the woman introduced herself as Diana Flowers, but this is most liely a fake name. Many people use fake names in the club, you know."

Aaron sighed, bored, but the gesture was so subtle that Harley didn't even notice. The man continued to chatter on. Aaron walked over to the window and stared out at the garden of his vast estate.

How could he find someone who had made a point to hide?

"What about the security cameras?" Aaron insisted.

"The woman left before dawn and got into a taxi, sir. I haven't yet found out where the taxi driver dropped her off."

Aaron nodded, indicating that he understood, but his mind was a mess. Ever since he woke up alone in one of the rooms of his club, with a few dollars on the bedside table, he had been obsessed with the woman he had seen only once.

Their conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door. The servant spoke softly, "First Young Master, the preparation has been completed. Old Master invites you downstairs."

"Got it."