Chapter 2

She was about to help her when a sharp voice shattered the moment.

"What are you doing?"

Katrina stormed into the room. Her face was twisted in a volatile mix of shock and fury. Closing the distance in seconds, she snatched the cup from Elena's hands and hurled it straight into the trash.

"Are you trying to kill her the second my back is turned? I knew you were up to something!"

Elena stood off to the side, perfectly still. She glanced at the discarded milkshake, finding the sheer hysteria of the situation almost absurd.

Katrina, meanwhile, had already spun back to Bridget.

"Did she give you anything else? Do you feel sick anywhere?"

She hovered over her daughter, practically vibrating with the urge to call Dean on the spot and complain. But Bridget quickly intervened.

"Mom, you've got it wrong. I asked her to buy it for me."

Katrina paused, though she didn't look the least bit embarrassed.

"You don't know what's good for you. But she does. She's your sister—she should know better."

Her tone sharpened into a blade.

"If your father hadn't spent so much time doting on her, would we even be in this mess? How else could your health have deteriorated this much?"

"Mom, stop... Elena works a lot. She hardly ever comes over."

Katrina scoffed, her gaze sliding back to where Elena stood in silence.

She had never cared for her husband's daughter from his first marriage. Yet, in her own way, the woman was still useful to the family.

Her eyes darted to Elena's neck. Nothing. Not a single mark.

A flicker of confusion crossed Katrina's face as she wondered if her little setup the night before had actually paid off.

If she hadn't been desperate to secure an advantage with the Blackwood family, she never would have handed Ethan over to Elena. But with Bridget's health being so fragile, the situation was complicated.

Annoyed, she snapped, her voice dripping with disdain, "Ethan is back in the country. You're his wife. For once in your life, think about someone other than yourself. Find a way to get the Blackwoods to step in and help your father."

Elena stared at her, letting out a soft, mirthless laugh.

"You talk as if I've never done a single thing for this family. Is that just your opinion... or is it Dad's, too?"

Katrina's jaw tightened, but she had no answer. A heavy silence settled over the room.

Bridget broke the tension.

"The doctor prescribed me some medicine... Elena, could you go pick it up for me?"

Elena nodded and slipped out of the room.

She had barely crossed the threshold when Katrina's venomous voice started up again behind her.

"Your father has been nothing but good to her all these years, and this is how she repays us. She resents me—that much is obvious. Her mother worked herself into an early grave, and your father was too absorbed in his business to notice... life wasn't easy back then. But she acts like I'm the one to blame for all of it."

A disdainful scoff followed.

"Whatever. Her mother was just born unlucky."

Elena frowned at the cruel remark but kept walking. Despite everything that had happened the day before, she refused to give Katrina the satisfaction of seeing her bleed.

After waiting in line at the pharmacy to collect Bridget's prescription, she made her way to the gynecology department. She was still battling a lingering, deep-seated discomfort.

The doctor finished the examination with a grave expression.

"Miss... would you like to report this to the police?"

Elena froze, slowly realizing the dark implication behind the question.

"No... that won't be necessary. It was my husband. He just got back from a long trip, and he... lost control."

The doctor studied her hesitation before her expression softened with a knowing look.

"I'm going to prescribe a topical ointment. Apply it regularly. I strongly advise avoiding intercourse for a while, and tell your husband to be more careful. You're still young—don't let your body take the brunt of his recklessness."

The doctor had clearly drawn her own conclusions.

Feeling a rush of awkward heat to her cheeks, Elena took the tube of ointment and quickly tucked it away.

On her way out of the wing, she practically ran straight into Warren, Bridget's brother.

His eyes immediately dropped to the pharmacy bag in her hands, his brow furrowing.

"Elena? Were you here to see Bridget? Or are you not feeling well?"

He flashed an easy, practiced smile. He was well-groomed, broad-shouldered, and at first glance, the picture of a perfect gentleman. Yet, something in his eyes always made Elena's skin crawl. It was a predatory gleam—hard to define, but more than enough to set off her alarms.

Masking her unease, she held out the bag of medication Bridget had requested.

"I was just stopping by. The doctor renewed the prescription for Katrina."

Warren raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk playing on his lips.

"We could head up together. It's been a while since we took the time to catch up."

"I have other things to do," she replied curtly.

Shoving the bag into his hands, she turned on her heel, desperate to put distance between them.

Warren stood in the corridor, watching the sway of her retreat. A dark, ambiguous look clouded his eyes. Once she was out of sight, he couldn't resist peering into the plastic pharmacy bag she had handed him.

Antibiotics, antivirals... Seeing an elegant young woman walking out of the gynecology wing with this specific cocktail of drugs left very little to the imagination.

His gaze darkened. His fingers tightened their grip on the crinkling plastic.

Who would have thought that Elena—always so cold, always so reserved—could be caught up in something so... compromising?

Then again, her husband had been a ghost for the past three years. A woman left alone in an empty bed for that long was bound to stray eventually.

But Warren was in no rush. He knew she would have to return to the Ashcroft house sooner or later. He could afford to wait.

Safe inside her car, Elena let out a shaky breath as a heavy weight settled in her chest.

Ever since Katrina, Bridget, and Warren had moved in, the entire atmosphere of her childhood home had turned toxic. Warren wasn't even blood, yet his constant, looming presence made her skin crawl. Her father had tried to convince her to stay, but the moment she brought up Warren making her uncomfortable, Dean had hesitated.

Dean felt deeply indebted to Katrina and her daughter. It translated into an almost blind leniency toward Warren. Not wanting to force her father into an impossible position, Elena had simply chosen to pack up and leave.

Now, the house she had grown up in felt like enemy territory.

She had no pressing obligations at the studio today, but as she navigated through traffic, her phone began to vibrate in the console. The caller ID flashing on the screen instantly drained whatever was left of her good mood.

The ringing persisted, demanding and shrill. After a brief moment of hesitation, she tapped the screen.

"Hello, Mrs. Calloway."

On the other end of the line was Simone Calloway, Ethan's mother.

Ever since the wedding, the woman hadn't shown Elena a single ounce of basic human decency. Elena was well aware of where she stood. Aside from playing the dutiful wife in front of the family elders, she had always kept a safe distance from the Blackwoods.

"I need you to come to the manor. We need to discuss your divorce."

The tone was cold and straight to the point. Simone didn't even pause for a breath, barreling forward to crush any potential objections:

"You know perfectly well that this marriage was only permitted to humor old Gareth's dying wishes. Now that Ethan is officially running the Blackwood Group, the situation has changed. It is time to put an end to this farce."

The underlying message was crystal clear: this divorce was happening, with or without her consent.

Simone was clearly bracing for a hysterical reaction, or at least a desperate plea to reconsider. After all, what woman would willingly surrender her status as Ethan Blackwood's legitimate wife? Even in a loveless marriage, being tied to a man of his caliber meant wealth, power, and prestige.

But Elena merely stared at the road ahead, her expression completely calm.

"Alright. Should I come over now?"

No protests. No begging. Her voice emerged steady and entirely detached, sounding exactly like a woman who had been waiting for the axe to fall for a very long time.

The sheer apathy in her tone visibly threw Simone off balance.

"Well... as long as you agree, that's what matters. You and Ethan were never a good match anyway. He deserves someone of his own standing. Come over right away. I've already called him. He shouldn't be long."

Elena's breath hitched for a fraction of a second.

Ethan would be there, too.

A sudden, intrusive thought crossed her mind.

If he found out that the anonymous woman he had spent the night ravishing was the exact same wife he was so desperate to divorce... how would he react?

A man as fiercely proud as Ethan Blackwood would undoubtedly be sick to his stomach.

A soft laugh slipped past her lips despite herself—bitter, brief, and utterly devoid of humor—as she signaled and turned the steering wheel toward the Blackwood estate.