Chapter 2

I woke up in my bed at the Caldwell estate.

Sunlight streamed through the window, too bright.

Ethan sat beside me, holding my hand.

His face looked tired, lines of strain around his eyes.

"Elara," he said softly. "You're awake. How do you feel?"

Regret. I saw it in his eyes. Or I thought I did.

Then I noticed it. A faint smudge of red lipstick on his collar, near his neck. Veronica's shade.

His remorse felt hollow, a performance.

He squeezed my hand. "I'm so sorry, Elara. About everything. About our son."

His words were right, but they didn't reach me.

My heart felt like a stone in my chest.

Before I could respond, his phone buzzed on the nightstand.

He glanced at it, his expression shifting.

"I have to take this," he said, already standing up. "It's Veronica. She... she's not feeling well. Needs me."

He was gone again. Prioritizing her.

It confirmed everything.

My son was dead. My marriage was dead.

I lay there, staring at the ceiling.

The decision was clear, cold, and hard within me.

Divorce.

I needed to cut him out of my life. Completely.

Later that day, when I was alone, I found some paper and a pen.

I started writing.

*Divorce Agreement.*

My hands trembled, but my resolve was firm.

The next day, Eleanor informed me that there would be a small, private memorial for the baby.

"Just family," she said, her eyes cold.

I didn't want their memorial. Their hypocrisy.

They had given me a small, plain wooden box. His ashes.

My son. Reduced to dust in a cheap box.

That night, I took the box out to the far edge of the Caldwell property, near Redwood Creek.

The moon was high, casting long shadows.

I built a small fire.

I opened the box.

Tears streamed down my face, silent and hot.

"I love you," I whispered to the ashes. "I'm so sorry."

I poured the ashes into the flames.

I watched them burn, watched the smoke curl up towards the stars.

It was my goodbye. My grief. My letting go.

A few days later, Eleanor announced a "family dinner."

It was to officially welcome Veronica into a more prominent role in Caldwell Timber & Vineyards.

"Given Arthur's passing, and Ethan's need for support," Eleanor had said, "Veronica will be taking on more responsibilities. A new title."

I was expected to attend. To smile. To applaud.

They dressed Veronica in a new, expensive dress. She sat beside Ethan, radiant.

Eleanor made a speech about legacy, about family strength.

About Veronica's dedication.

It was a public humiliation, designed to show me my place.

Or my lack of one.

I ate little, said nothing.

My face felt like a mask.

Inside, I was counting the days.

As soon as I was physically stronger, as soon as the divorce papers were signed, I would leave.

I would never look back.