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Seven years ago, at the wedding.
Eliana's best friend — the one she'd chosen as her maid of honour — shed a single tear. The groom, Maxwell Thorne, immediately broke away from the altar, took the woman's hand, and fled. Eliana was left standing there, the object of everyone's pity.
She didn't cry. She turned and pressed her bridal bouquet into the hands of Adrian Wyndham, who had been standing beside her as best man.
"Adrian — a bride, barely used. Do you want her?"
In that moment, his eyes lit up like nothing she had ever seen.
He said nothing, just took her hand and pulled her upstairs. The rooftop had already been transformed — a second reception, more lavish than the first, as though it had been waiting.
He dropped to one knee and produced a ring.
"I'd been planning to come up here alone after your wedding and pretend to marry you, just once. Now —" he smiled — "it's real."
Adrian wasn't ashamed to let the world know he'd spent years quietly devoted to her. The next morning, he had Maxwell Thorne's scandals leaked to the press and drove him out of the country.
After the wedding, he was the same — endlessly, visibly devoted, the kind of husband other women envied.
Until their sixth anniversary, when Eliana walked in on him in bed with Serena.
She stood there for three full seconds, then crossed the room and hit him hard across the face.
"She forced you into it, didn't she?"
Adrian didn't flinch. The coldness in his eyes was something she'd never seen before.
"It was my choice."
"Eliana, Serena loves me completely. Do you?"
"You don't. You only married me to get back at Maxwell Thorne. I spent years chasing after you. I only wanted, just once, to know what it felt like to be truly loved — is that so wrong?"
The words drove into her like a knife.
"Adrian, I want a divorce."
A brief silence. He gathered Serena into his arms.
"Fine."
Eliana lurched forward, reaching for his sleeve — he turned, and the disgust in his eyes stopped her cold.
"You just said you wanted one. I agreed. What more do you want?"
From that point on, Adrian pushed relentlessly for the divorce. Every time she'd threatened to leave before, he'd come undone — begging, pleading, half-mad with desperation. Now, her every tearful outburst was met with increasing coldness.
In the end, he simply stopped coming home, retreating to the country estate with Serena.
She didn't understand how he had become a stranger overnight. When she asked, he only said: "I got tired of you. Is that not allowed?"
Then, last month, he had her mother's grave moved — violently, for no reason except that Serena's dog had died and he wanted the spot.
That was the moment Eliana's last feeling died.
Now there was nothing left. Just an empty, quiet place where something used to be.
She was still standing outside the front door, pulling herself back from the memory, when Adrian's assistant called.
"Miss Ashford. Mr. Wyndham says to sign the divorce papers immediately. He wants to give Serena a proper wedding in seven days. I'd advise you not to make things difficult."
This time, Eliana answered softly.
"Bring them. I'll sign."
Then she opened her messages and typed a reply.
You were right. We couldn't survive seven years. I've agreed to the arrangement. See you in seven days.