Chapter 3

The sound of cannons woke me before dawn. Boom. Boom. Boom. The entire house shook. I sat up in bed, my heart pounding. For a moment, I thought the city was under attack.

Then I looked out the window. Across the bay, the sky was exploding in color. Red, gold, blue. It was a massive, private fireworks display.

I knew instantly who it was for.

Later that morning, Robert found me in the dining room. He was beaming, full of self-satisfaction. Liam trailed behind him, looking smug.

"Did you see the fireworks?" he asked, as if he were a child showing off a new toy. "A little surprise for Liam. To celebrate her new creative period."

I just stared at him. The cost of that display could have funded a wing at the children' s hospital. He had refused my request for a donation just last month, saying money was tight.

"It was... loud," I said.

His smile faded. He didn't like my lack of enthusiasm.

"Liam was frightened at the party yesterday," he said, his tone turning accusatory. "Because of your housekeeper' s outburst. You will go to her and apologize for the scene you caused."

I put my teacup down. "I caused? Robert, you are the one who humiliated me in my own home."

"This is Liam' s home now, too," he snapped. "And you will show her respect. You will go to the guest house, and you will apologize to her. Publicly. In front of the staff."

My blood ran cold. He wanted to shame me, to break me down in front of everyone.

Mrs. Gable, who had been silently clearing dishes, stepped forward again. "Sir, please. Don' t do this to her. Punish me if you must, but Mrs. Vance has done nothing wrong."

Robert turned his cold eyes on her. "You think I won' t? Your brother works at my construction site on the docks, doesn't he? It would be a shame if there was a... downsizing. Accidents happen on those sites all the time."

The threat hung in the air, ugly and clear. Mrs. Gable went pale. She looked at me, her eyes filled with terror.

He knew my weakness. I could endure my own pain, but I could not bear to see someone else suffer for my sake.

I stood up. "Fine. I' ll do it."

Robert smiled, a cruel, triumphant smile. "I knew you' d see reason."

I straightened my dress, my hands trembling slightly. I would not let him see how much this cost me. For Mrs. Gable, for her family, I would swallow this final piece of my pride.

I walked out of the main house and across the manicured lawn toward the guest house. The sculpture garden that had replaced my roses was half-finished, ugly metal shapes glinting in the sun. It looked like a graveyard of twisted metal.

When I reached the guest house, the door was open. Robert and Liam were on the veranda, seated at a small table set for breakfast. The entire household staff-cooks, maids, gardeners-was assembled on the lawn below, forced to watch.

Robert was feeding Liam a strawberry, the same way he used to feed me when we were first married. The gesture was so intimate, so familiar, it felt like a physical blow. He was not just replacing me; he was rewriting our history with her as the star.

He saw me approach and stood up.

"Ah, Eleanor. So glad you could join us. Liam was just telling me how upset she was by yesterday' s events."

Liam looked at me, her eyes gleaming with victory.

"Eleanor," Robert said, his voice carrying across the lawn for all to hear. "As the former lady of this house, you set a poor example. You will now bow to Liam and beg for her forgiveness."

A collective gasp went through the staff. Bow? To her? The humiliation was absolute.

From the edge of the crowd, a new voice spoke up. "Robert, that' s enough."

It was General Miller, an old family friend and Robert' s former commanding officer from his short time in the military. He was one of the few people Robert still respected. The General walked forward, his face grim.

"This has gone too far," he said. "Show your wife some dignity."

Robert just laughed. A harsh, ugly sound.

"Dignity? She lost that right a long time ago. This isn't about dignity, General. It's about the future." He gestured from me to Liam. "Liam is young. Fertile. We will have children. Strong sons to carry on the Vance name. I can' t have her," he said, pointing at me with contempt, "poisoning my future children with her jealousy and her endless sadness over things that are long dead and buried."

He was talking about our boys. He was using our dead children as a weapon against me. He wasn't just erasing my past; he was salting the earth so nothing of me could ever grow in his future.

The world seemed to tilt on its axis. The air left my lungs. That was it. That was the final, unforgivable blow. He hadn' t just killed my love. He had defiled its memory.