Marcia pressed him, “So when are you going to divorce her?”


    Divorce.


    Lately, that word was all Frank ever heard.


    It seemed like everyone around him believed splitting up was the only logical step left.


    But only Frank knew the truth: every time the word surfaced, something heavy settled in his chest, making it hard to breathe.


    He wasn’t even sure why. Maybe it was because thepany’s shares would take a hit if he got divorced now. Maybe it was the fallout, the way it would drag Marcia’s name through the mud.


    Whatever the reason, he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that divorce wasn’t an option.


    He blurted out his answer, firm and final. “Never. Not now, not ever.”


    The next morning.


    Elissa woke in a daze, squinting at her phone to check the time, and finally noticed Frank’s reply.


    What is it? I’ll talk to you when I get home tomorrow.


    She understood, <i>more </i>or less, what he meant–he didn’t want her storming up to Marcia


    and making a scene.


    He was probably just worried she’d smash another bottle over Marcia’s head.


    Still, that answer was enough for her.


    Once Frank came back and they cleared the air, she could finally walk away from this house that had long since stopped feeling like home.


    She washed up, dressed with a sense of quiet satisfaction, and was about to leave the dressing room when she paused, ncing back with a thoughtful frown.


    As Mrs. Frank, she’d never been spoiled with grand gestures, but Frank always brought her along whenever he needed someone on his arm atpany events or society gs.


    As a result, designer clothes, jewelry, and handbags filled more than half the walk–in closet.


    The Atwater family never had to worry about money, but once the divorce was final, all


    13:33


    these things would end up where they belonged–in the trash.


    So why not do something better?


    Elissa contacted a charity, arranged for everything to be donated, and instructed the staff to send the proceeds to fund girls‘ education in underserved areas.


    Once everything was packed up and Edna had agreed to handle the shipping, Elissa finally went downstairs for breakfast.


    As she passed through the living room, she spotted Frank’s mother, Carm, sitting ramrod straight on the sofa in a tailored Chanel suit, her carefully styled hair immacte, her expression cold.


    Elissa was surprised. She greeted her instinctively, “Mom, what brings you here?”


    Carm beckoned her over. “Come here, Elissa.”


    Elissa’s gaze fell to the coffee table, where a gift box sat open, its ribbon untied and trailing.


    Hershes trembled. She didn’t know if Frank had seen the divorce papers yet, but one thing was clear–the Atwater elders had seen them first.


    She walked over to the sofa and took a slow, steadying breath. “You’ve seen


    everything?”


    “You want a divorce…” Carm’s voice lost some of its edge. She patted the sofa, inviting Elissa to sit. “Why didn’t you talk to me or your grandmother about this?”


    Elissa leaned forward to refill Carm’s tea, her tone deferential. “Grandma just got out of the hospital. I was afraid if I brought it up, it might upset her.”


    Carm’s gaze softened, though her words were sharp. “And you think divorcing in secret won’t affect her health?”


    She caught herself, sighing. “I know you’ve always been a sensible girl. If you want a divorce, you must have your reasons. But are you sure you and Frank are truly past the point of no return?”


    “Mom…” Elissa’s eyes dropped to the marble floor, her longshes casting shadows on her cheeks. For a moment, she struggled to find the words. Finally, she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. “Frank and I have been married for three years, and we’ve never even shared a bed.”