(Eleanor's POV)

Martha stared in shock at the vase in my hand. My hands slowly came down on their own.

"Sorry about that, I thought you had gone home for tonight" I rubbed my forehead as I tried catching my breath.

"Ms. There's an envelope for you," Martha lifted a black envelope in hand. Her eyes didn't meet mine. Martha never asked questions. That's why Marcus kept her.

"Who dropped this?" I stretched my hands and took it from her. The leather felt cold, like it had been out for long.

"There's no name ma. It was left on the porch and it's addressed to you," her tone remaining placid.

"Left on the porch?" I turned the envelope over. No seal. No return address. Just my name in thick, deliberate strokes. _Eleanor Thornhill._

"Did you see who left it?"

"No ma. The cameras were... off." She paused. "For ten minutes. Exactly at 8pm."

My chest tightened. Marcus didn't do surprises. This wasn't him. I tore open the letter. Words printed in bold black read:

'Be my plus one'

There was no signature. Neither a date. Just a black card with gold edges. And a time: 10pm.

A very clear message. Definitely not from Marcus. Then who could it be?

"Thank you, Martha," I said as I picked up my plate and strolled out.

"Ma, should I call Mr. Vale to confirm?" Martha asked behind me. I stopped. Didn't turn. "No. He's busy. With his business."

Back at the room, I stared skeptically at the letter. Deliberating whether to honor or ignore the invite. Then curiosity kicked in. I needed to know who sent these.

My phone buzzed. The screen lit up with an unknown number.

Text: 10pm. I'll be waiting. - L_

My breath hitched. Wondering who exactly it was

I took a look inside my closet. The red dress no longer caught my attention. My eyes trailed to a black dinner gown. Its dark look beckoning me. I took it out and slipped into it. It fitted perfectly. Like it was made for a funeral. Or a coronation.

Martha knocked softly. "Ma, the driver is waiting."

"Tell him I'll be down in a minute," I said, adjusting the strap.

"Where are you going, ma?" Her voice cracked, just a little. Pity again.

I met her eyes in the mirror. "It's a secret Martha."

"A secret, ma?"

"Yes," I whispered. Tonight I'm not Marcus's wife. I'm going to bury the love I once nurtured.

Martha hesitated, then pressed a small black clutch into my hand. "Then take this. It'll complete your outfit"

I smiled at her. For the first time in two years it was genuine. Then I made my way downstairs to the car.

The car moved. The city lights blurred past. And for the first time, I wasn't chasing him. I was walking toward something else.

The car arrived at the venue, everywhere was lit. People chattered and observed, wine glasses clinking here and there.

I stepped down from the car. One leg after another. The black gown slid against my skin like armor. My face carried a genuine smile this time. Being alone felt better than I imagined.

"Over here miss" "one pose for the camera". Reporters flashed and clamoured. Phones like fireflies.

"Any reason you didn't appear with Mr vale tonight" someone shot from the crowd, I stiffened. No reply. The name Vale sounded strange to me.

Tonight I was making the headlines, not as his wife. But as Eleanor Thornhill.

I stepped into the hall, shoulders squared. Confidence sprouted in me.

Then a waiter approached me with a silver tray. I cast a look at the alcohol calling out to me. But I decided against it. That's not what I came for.

"Someone asked me to give this to you ma'am". He handed me a key card. Room number 306, that was the VIP floor.

"Thank you" I smiled and took the card from him.

The hall buzzed with people. Cool air caressing my face, everywhere smelled of expensive perfume and old money.

I walked towards the stairs. The sound of my heels gnawing attention, I was alone. Just me and the woman I was becoming. With new found confidence, I made my way to the top floor.

"Eleanor" that voice, familiar and impossible to ignore. I turned around

"Marcus". I drawled out, the name tasted bitter on my tongue.

"What are you doing here?" he spat, the annoyance heavy in his tone.

"It's a dinner night Marcus, I came for the dinner" I stared him back in the eye

"I thought I told you to stay home" his voice carried irritation

"Stay home?," I shot back, anger slowly rising within me

" So I can watch you dance with her in the news tomorrow".

His jaw ticked. "That's not-"

" I get to decide whether I stay home or not" I cut him off. He visibly stiffened. Surprise flashing across his face. This was the first time I had defied him so openly, and I felt good. Very good.

Just then- " Sorry I was gone for so long" a sickening sweet voice sounded. Stella. She walked towards us, linking her arm to his like a habit. Like she owned him. Her silk dress drawing all the way down, her doe eyes glistening under the chandelier light, her appearance could raise the protective instincts of any man.

I scowled. Of course she'd wear white, she always had to be the bride. Even when it wasn't her wedding.

Then her eyes trailed to me

"Eleanor. fancy seeing you here, you came. Alone" she said, the mockery evident in her voice, but I wasn't letting her win tonight

" I was invited" I pulled the key card from my clutch, waving it in their faces, pride stirring up in me. Their expressions changing in an instant

"From who" Marcus scowled, face devoid of any warmth

" You're my wife, you can't go about accepting invites from anyone just to spite me" he stepped closer, his words threatening. His cologne hitting me, the one I used to love, now smelled like control.

"Wife?," I laughed. The sound coming out hollow

" What we have is only on paper Marcus, don't get too into the game" I threw his words back at him. He breathed in, attempting to calm himself. I smiled.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I have somewhere to get to"

I patted my dress and made my way around them.

"Not so soon" A heavy voice sounded, then without warning my arm was grabbed, I spun around almost immediately. Just then a ripping sound echoed through the building, gasps filled the crowd as phones lifted.

"What just happened" someone whispered from the crowd

(Eleanor's POV)

"What the hell Marcus" I shrieked as my hands flew to my dress, the new slit trailing all the way up my thighs.

He let go almost immediately "sorry I didn't mean to do that" he backed away a little.

Stella sneered "it adds a little bit of design don't you think?," I looked up at her, people had started chattering and this was the last place I wanted to be.

With one last stride I made my way up the stairs, he had just shredded whatever we had left.

The elevator doors shut behind me. The silence deafening.

I stared at the key card in my hands. I exhaled steadily. Ready for what I was getting myself into. My hands were steady.

Two yrs in hell. What could be worse than this?

Ding. I stepped out of the elevator into the dark hallway. Only moonlight seeped in through the floor to ceiling windows.

My heels clicked against the marble floor. Echoing in the emptiness.

Room 306. I stopped in front of the door. My heart pounded. Behind that door held the answers to the questions on my mind. Without hesitation, I pushed it open.

The room smelled like whiskey and cedar. Expensive. Dark. But surprisingly familiar in a way I couldn't fathom.

A figure stood by the window. Back to me. Broad shoulders in a black suit. Sleeves rolled up. Like he'd been waiting for long. He didn't turn when I entered. Like he already knew who I was

"Took you long enough," his voice came low. Rough. Amusement dancing in his tone. The sound wrapped around my spine.

"Who are you," the words left my mouth.

And I released a breath I didn't know I was holding.

He turned around. My breath caught in my throat. My heart thumping against my ribcage.

"Lucian?" I said his name. It felt dangerous on my tongue.

Tall. Dark hair. His face could put models to shame. His storm grey eyes centered on me. Like I was the only thing in the room. I felt seen. The feeling slightly unfamiliar.

Lucian Vale. Marcus's older brother. The news had pronounced him dead. Tabloids had erased him from existence. But here he was.

Standing in front of me. Not a single hair out of place. He took a step toward me. Then another.

"You came," it wasn't a question.

It was a statement. Like he knew I would.

"I thought you were supposed to be-"

"Dead?" he chuckled. The sound hearty and warm.

His eyes stayed trained on me. Or rather, they never left me.

"Don't believe everything you hear, Len," he stepped even closer.

Close enough that I could smell the whiskey on him. The scent comforting.

"Len?" The word rolled off my tongue. Like I was tasting it. The name sounded oddly familiar.

He didn't reply. His gaze dropped to my shoulders. His eyes sharpened.

"You're cold," he didn't ask. He noticed.

He stepped back and turned around. Picked up the coat lying hanging on the large seat.

Then with one swift motion, He draped it across my shoulders. The coat was warm. Heavy. His scent clinging to the fabric.

"Does Marcus know you're alive?" I asked. My eyes trained on his face.

"He doesn't deserve to know," he scowled.

"Now enough about Marcus," he said.

"You look leaner than the last time I saw you." "Has he not been feeding you?" he teased.

His voice was light and airy. Like a lion trying to sound like a bird. I visibly relaxed.

"I'm on a diet," I squeaked. Embarrassment flaring up on my cheeks. I turned my face away to escape his teasing eyes.

He chuckled again. Then pulled out a chair for me. Right in the center of the room.

"Come sit," he said softly. But his eyes said obey. I sat down. Draping the jacket across the seat.

The room felt alive. Like a space I truly belonged in.

He opened the tray in front of me. The scent of my favourite rice cake balls wafted into my nostrils. Instantly stealing all my attention. My stomach rumbled lowly in anticipation.

"How did you know these were my favourite?" I asked. Eyeing the plate like a fat kid eyeing a piece of cake.

"It's a coincidence," his face lifted in a smile at my behaviour. He pulled the plate closer to me.

Then handed me a spoon. "Go on, try it," he urged.

I didn't need to be told twice. I dug in. The food melted on my tongue.Teasing my taste buds.

Marcus had never let me eat these. Because he said it'd make me fat. I looked up at the man in front of me. I swallowed. Too fast

" Why are you being...kind" I asked

"Kind?" He said it like the word had insulted him

"I'm not kind Eleanor"

"So you called me here today" I set down my spoon.

"Just to feed me rice cakes," I questioned. He chuckled, eyes not leaving my face. As if I would vanish if he looked away.

"I want to offer you a deal" he poured whiskey into a glass and slid it across the table.

"I don't drink" I mumbled

"Since when" he smirked at my obvious lie.

"What's the deal?" I cleared my throat, changing the topic.

He picked up the napkin and handed it to me.

"Finish first" he coaxed. I took the napkin and wiped my lips, careful not to smudge my lipstick.

"I'm done. Let's talk" I probed. Sitting up straight with interest.

Just then-. Knock knock knock

Three sharp hits against the door. Heavy. Demanding.

Lucian didn't flinch. His eyes calmer than a lake, and somehow that settled the unease in me too

But the knocks came again. Louder this time, then a voice barked from outside

"ELEANOR, I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE," Marcus roared. My eyes narrowed, wondering what he was doing here. I trailed my eyes to Lucian, he was still focused on me. Like he wouldn't make a move unless I told him to

"Aren't you going to open the door" I said, carefully studying his expressions

"Do you want me to" his voice laced with something I couldn't pin a finger on, he was asking me for permission.

I smiled but didn't say a word.

Then with a loud bang, the door flew open. There stood Marcus. His chest heaving up and down, eyes narrowed and filled with rage. Then his eyes flickered to the figure beside me. Shock passed across his face

"L.. Lucian?."