Chapter 23
Vivian pressed her palm to her cheek.
The skin burned.
She stared at Eleanor, eyes wide, brimming with something between shock and betrayal.
“Mom.” Her voice trembled. “You hit me. You actually hit me for him?”
Twenty-seven years.
Twenty-seven years, and her mother had never once raised a hand to her. Not when she failed her driving test three times. Not when she maxed out Eleanor’s credit card in college. Not once.
Until tonight.
Until Ethan.
The tears came before she could stop them. Hot, furious, spilling down both cheeks.
“Vivian, sweetheart, I-”
Eleanor’s anger crumbled the instant she saw her daughter cry. She reached out, her expression shifting from rage to guilt in a heartbeat.
But Vivian didn’t wait to hear it.
She shot one last look at Ethan- raw, venomous, her jaw locked so tight the tendons in her neck stood out – then turned and bolted for the door.
The slam rattled the picture frames on the wall.
“Vivian! Where are you going?”
Eleanor rushed to the hallway.
No answer. Just the rapid click of heels on tile, then the elevator chime, then nothing.
Eleanor took two steps toward the door, then stopped.
She turned to Ethan. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and for the first time since he’d known her, she looked old.
“Ethan, please.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “Go after her. I’m worried she’ll – just make sure she’s safe. Please.”
Ethan’s jaw was tight. His eyes held no warmth when he glanced toward the door Vivian had slammed through. But then he saw Eleanor’s face – the red-rimmed eyes, the trembling jaw, the deep lines that three years of mediating between her husband and her son-in-law had carved into her skin.
“Okay.”
He couldn’t refuse Eleanor. Not her. Never her.
“Mom.” He held her gaze. “Take care of yourself.”
Then he walked out.
1/3
+15 Bonus
The moment Ethan stepped through the building’s front entrance and the cool night air hit his face, something loosened in his chest.
A breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.
He’d been bracing for this visit since the moment he’d agreed to come. Running scenarios in his head, rehearsing lines, preparing for the worst.
But the worst hadn’t been Reginald’s sneering. That was background noise – five years of the same broken record
And it wasn’t Vivian’s fury. He’d expected that.
The hardest part had always been Eleanor.
Eleanor, who had only ever been kind to him. Eleanor, who’d stood up for him when no one else would. Eleanor, whose face had cracked like porcelain when he’d said the word divorce.
Hurting her was the one thing he hadn’t been able to game-plan around.
But it was done now.
Both of them knew. Reginald would sign off on it – hell, he’d probably pop a bottle of champagne. Eleanor would fight it, but at the end of the day, divorce was between husband and wife. Her objection, however heartfelt, wouldn’t change the outcome.
I’m sorry, Mom.
But I can’t stay dead for you.
Back inside the apartment, the silence was suffocating.
Reginald sat at the table, still in his chair, still holding his glass. He hadn’t moved since Vivian stormed out.
Eleanor lowered herself into her seat. The dishes were going cold. She stared at the garlic butter prawns she’d spent an hour on and felt nothing.
“Reginald.”
He looked up.
“Do you actually want to watch your daughter’s marriage fall apart?”
Her voice was tired. Flat. Like a woman who’d spent all her fight in the last ten minutes and had nothing left.
Reginald swirled his wine.
“It’s their business,” he said. “They want a divorce, let them divorce. We have no right to interfere.”
His tone was calm. Almost clinical.
“No right?” Eleanor’s voice thinned. “Reginald, do you even care? Three years – three years Ethan took care of this family. Took care of her. He cooked, he cleaned, he put up with your insults without a single word of complaint-”
VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABEL
Comments
The readers' comments on the novel: Ex Wife's Collapse After Divorce