The Wife He Dumped, The Queen She Returned As novel Chapter 218

Seeing Chloe, a gentle, frail smile slowly spread across the older woman's face.

"Chloe, you're here. Was it freezing out there? Come here and warm up."

Noticing Chloe subconsciously glancing around the room, she chuckled softly.

"That old grump isn't at Cloudrest Manor tonight. You can relax and stay the night with me, okay?"

"Okay." Chloe walked over and sat on the plush sofa beside the bed.

"Grandma, what did you dream about? Dreams are always the exact opposite of reality. There's nothing to worry about."

Eleonora looked at her, a swirl of complex emotions in her tired eyes. She murmured softly, "Are dreams... really the opposite?"

"Of course," Chloe replied gently.

Suddenly, Eleonora reached out and gripped Chloe's hand tightly, as if having made a massive, agonizing decision.

"Chloe, are you... planning to divorce Preston?"

The warm smile on Chloe's face froze instantly.

Eleonora squeezed her hand. "Chloe, I know your character. I know you never do anything impulsively."

"So, no matter what you decide to do, as long as it brings you happiness, I will support you."

Chloe had been entirely unprepared for this conversation. She sat there, temporarily stunned into silence.

She squeezed Eleonora's frail hand back, her eyes growing hot with unshed tears. "Grandma..."

"The connections between people are destined by fate," Eleonora sighed softly. "From the very first moment I laid eyes on you, I felt this overwhelming sense of familiarity. It was instinctual. I just wanted to protect you and treat you well."

"If little Elara were still alive, I think she would have grown up to be exactly like you."

Chloe asked softly, "Is this Elara... Mr. Sylvain's daughter?"

Eleonora looked surprised. "You know Alaric Sylvain?"

"I've only heard the name," Chloe admitted.

Eleonora let out a long, heavy sigh. She reached into her bedside drawer and pulled out a carefully preserved vintage photograph.

"This is a picture of me, Alaric, and little Elara."

"She was only five years old back then."

Under the dim, warm light of the bedside lamp, the old photo looked slightly faded from the relentless wash of time.

In the picture, a handsome young man stood tall, a five-year-old girl leaning affectionately against him, while a middle-aged woman with gentle features stood proudly in the center.

Chloe, however, was wide awake.

She pulled out her phone, staring out the window at the snow-crushed branches in the courtyard, and drafted a post on X.

[Day seven before leaving Sterling Bay.

I've eaten at all my favorite local spots, bought souvenirs, and quietly prepared to say goodbye to this city.

The snow is incredibly heavy tonight.

Two days left until the divorce.

He always has this infuriating confidence when questioning my motives.

I don't know why he's so rigidly convinced that I will love him forever.

Isn't it almost laughable?

Whatever.

For these last two days, I just want to spend time with Grandma.

The rest doesn't matter anymore.]