Chapter 2

A few days later, the bombshells kept coming.

The annual Davenport Foundation Charity Gala was the biggest event of their social calendar, something Eleanor and I always attended, a symbol of family unity.

This year, Arthur announced, very casually over a tense family dinner, "Eleanor, Chloe, you two will sit this one out. Important business, very sensitive guest list."

Liam didn't meet my eyes, just pushed food around his plate.

It was more than unusual, it was a public dismissal.

Eleanor' s eyes narrowed, but she said nothing at the table.

Later, alone with me, she was furious. "Sensitive guest list? We are the guest list, Chloe! This is a message."

Eleanor, with her tech background and considerable personal wealth, didn't just get angry, she got answers.

She had resources, contacts Liam and Arthur probably underestimated.

Within a day, she had information.

"Liam's 'business associate'," Eleanor told me, her voice tight with controlled rage, "her name is Agent Walker, apparently. And yes, Liam is escorting her to the gala. His colleagues at the firm, they already speak about her like she's... familiar. Too familiar."

The words hung in the air. It wasn't just business. It was a replacement.

"They're discarding us, Chloe," Eleanor said, pacing her study, her energy back but now fueled by cold fury. "Like we're last season's handbags, easily replaced with newer models."

She stopped, her eyes blazing. "My mother, she lived a miserable life, trapped in a loveless marriage with a man who paraded his affairs. She had no money, no power, no way out. She withered. I swore that would never be me. And it won't be you either."

Her words struck a chord. I remembered my own grandmother, not my mother, but a similar story of quiet desperation, of being stuck.

"If they want new lives," Eleanor declared, her voice ringing with the confidence of a CEO about to launch a hostile takeover, "then we'll start ours. A better one."

I looked at her, this incredible woman who had always protected me. If she believed we could do this, maybe we could.

The thought of a messy, public divorce, the humiliation, the endless battles with the powerful Davenport lawyers, it made me feel sick.

"What do you mean?" I asked, my voice small.

"We disappear," Eleanor said, a wild, almost gleeful light in her eyes. "We fake our deaths. They want us gone? We'll be gone. So gone they'll never find us. No divorce, no public spectacle, no fighting for scraps. We just vanish."

It was insane. It was terrifying.

It was also, in a strange way, incredibly empowering.

"They' ll be at the gala," she continued, already strategizing, "with their new women. The perfect alibi for them, the perfect opportunity for us."

I thought of Liam, the man I loved, choosing another woman, planning a new life without me. The pain was sharp, but Eleanor's fire was contagious.

"Okay," I whispered, then louder, "Okay, Eleanor. Let's do it."

A fierce smile spread across her face. "Good. We have work to do."