"Elena, you are a complete failure."
Like a keen, ruthless razor, Victor Blackwood's words sliced through the stillness. An image of strength and authority, he stood in the spacious living room of their penthouse in Manhattan, his hands in the pockets of his well-tailored suit.
With her thin fingers clutching the hem of her skirt, Elena Hayes-Blackwood perched on the edge of the cream leather sofa. With the divorce papers spread out like a death sentence, she gazed at the coffee table in front of her.
Her voice was wavering but firm enough to be heard over the frigid room as she begged, "Victor, please." "This is unfair."
Victor's attitude was as unwavering as stone as he turned to face her completely, his piercing blue eyes narrowing. "Just?" He laughed without humor, his every word brimming with contempt. Do you believe that I can live a fair life? In this world? Elena, I've created an empire out of nothing. What have you done, too? Nothing has been returned to me by you.
Even though his comments made her heart ache, she kept her emotions hidden from him. Never again. "I have supported you. backed you up. I cherished you. Isn't that significant?
"No," he answered plainly, in a tone that was icy and definitive.
Elena recoiled as if he had hit her, the reality of his apathy piercing her more deeply than she could have imagined. She had held onto the notion for years that underneath his cruel appearance was a kind guy who had once made a lifelong commitment to her. Now, however, that dream was totally dashed.
"Four years of marriage," Victor said in a sharp, low voice. "Four years of time lost." And what have I got to prove it? Nothing. No heir. Not stable. Not even the slightest bit of assistance from you.
Her knuckles were white as her fingers sank into her skirt material. "I tried," she murmured softly, her voice tense with repressed feelings. "I've seen every physician, completed every exam, and gone through every humiliation." I've fulfilled all of your requests.
Turning back to the floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the dazzling metropolis below, Victor sneered. "Save your excuses for me. Elena, work isn't rewarded in this world. It incentivizes outcomes. And you— His eyes were like ice when he turned his head. "You haven't succeeded."
Heavy and unchangeable, the words reverberated in the quiet.
They were silent for a minute. Beyond the glass, the only sound was the soft hum of the city.
Elena got up from the sofa, her determination becoming stronger with each step despite her wobbly legs. She had molded herself into a form of perfection that Victor could never seem to recognize, striving for years to be what he desired. But now that she was in front of him, she knew she was no longer able to fight.
With a harsher tone than she had anticipated, she responded, "If that's how you feel, then why did you marry me at all?"
Victor's jaw tensed, and a glimpse of something—guilt, maybe—crossed his face before it disappeared. "You were handy," he eventually said. "A lovely, accommodating woman who would not obstruct me." However, even that was incorrect.
As the last nail was driven into their marriage coffin, Elena felt the floor beneath her move. It was never enough, even if she had given him all she had.
Victor picked up a pen and held it out to her as he walked to the modern glass desk in the room's corner. Elena, please sign the documents. Before this charade goes on much longer, let's put a stop to it.
She looked at the pen and then back to his face. There was no sign of the guy she had loved, no warmth.
"To you, is that all I am?" Despite her best attempts to remain strong, her voice broke as she asked. "A mistake?"
Victor's silence was sufficient response.
She gulped back the tears that threatened to pour, not wanting him to see her shatter. Rather, she removed the pen from his grasp, her fingers momentarily touching his. He didn't soften or flinch.
She signed her name at the bottom of the documents, slowly and deliberately. The shards of a life she no longer knew were being bled out by each letter, which seemed like a wound becoming larger.
Her heart thumping in her chest, she put the pen down when she was done and took a step back. With her hazel eyes finally locking with his, she said, "I hope this brings you the happiness you're so desperate for."
Victor did not respond. With his focus already elsewhere, he just picked up the papers and moved to the other side of the room.
Without saying another word, Elena turned and walked away, her heels tapping on the shiny floor. She looked back briefly as she got to the elevator, praying that he would call after her. That he may reconsider.
However, he didn't.
The chapter of her life as Elena Blackwood ended as the elevator doors slid shut.
***
As Elena emerged into the crowded New York street, the cold January air pricked her cheeks. Each exhale was a cloud of white mist that vanished in an instant, and her breath came in trembling gasps. The fabric of her coat provided little shelter from the cold, so she held it securely about her.
When a cab arrived at the curb, the driver leaned out, his breath catching the icy night air. "Ma'am, need a ride?"
After a little pause, she nodded and climbed into the backseat. She flattened her face against the window as the vehicle joined into traffic, the glass feeling chilly against her skin.
Elena hardly saw the city as it passed in smudges of light and shade. Anger, bewilderment, and despair were all swirling in her head. She had been dumped as if she were unimportant after spending so much time striving to be the ideal wife and companion.
Nevertheless, something inside of her started to change as the vehicle drove her farther away from the apartment. It was subtle, almost undetectable, but there was a glimmer of power and rebellion that she hadn't experienced in years.
Although she was unsure of her future, she was confident that she was tired of playing the role of a pawn in Victor Blackwood's scheme.
After the cab stopped in front of a small motel, Elena gave the driver her money and went out into the cold again. She felt an odd calmness descend over her as she walked into the lobby and checked in.
Even though she lost everything tonight, she didn't lose.
Not quite yet.
And she silently vowed while she lay awake in the strange bed, gazing at the ceiling.
Her life would be rebuilt. Not for Victor. Not for anyone else.
for herself.
She was unaware that destiny still had plans for her.
