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From Unwanted Ward To Unattainable Queen Novel Cover

From Unwanted Ward To Unattainable Queen

I was the orphan Marcus Thorne took in. He was my guardian, my savior, and the man I foolishly fell in love with. But when he caught me sketching his portrait, he didn't see devotion. He saw a mess. He called my feelings "inappropriate" and told his fiancée I was just a "minor household issue" before shipping me off to Italy to get rid of me. He thought I would pine for him. Instead, I erased him. I blocked his number, deleted his photos, and sent him a check for every single cent he spent on me with two words: *Debt paid.* Three years later, Marcus showed up in Florence. He looked wrecked, desperate, and furious that his "property" had walked away. He tried to order me home. He tried to claim he finally loved me. He expected the girl who used to worship him to fall into his arms. But I looked at the man who broke my heart and felt absolutely nothing. "You don't love me, Marcus," I said, stepping back into the arms of a man who actually valued me. "You just hate losing." And for the first time, I watched him crumble while I walked away.
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Chapter 2

Ellie POV

The drive to the airport felt like a funeral procession for a girl who hadn’t even died yet.

I sat in the back seat, watching the Arizona landscape blur into violent streaks of red and ochre. Every mile felt like a physical severance, a blade slicing through the tether that held me to this place. I told myself this was necessary. I told myself I had to leave. Staying meant suffocating under the crushing weight of his indifference.

I looked down at my lap.

The sketchbook.

I hadn't packed it. I had brought it with me for one reason only.

I pressed the button to roll down the window. The wind roared into the cabin, hot and dry, carrying the scent of dust and sage. I ripped the first page out. The sound of the heavy paper tearing was sharp, visceral, satisfying. I let go. The wind snatched the drawing of his eyes and whipped it away into the unforgiving desert.

I tore out another. His hands.

Then another. His smile.

I felt a stinging in my chest, a hollow ache that spread to my fingertips. But as the pages flew out, disappearing into the dust, I felt lighter. It was a violent unburdening. I wasn't just throwing away paper. I was purging ten years of delusion.

By the time the car pulled up to the terminal, the book was empty. Just a hollow binding.

I grabbed my suitcase and walked toward the entrance.

Then I froze.

Marcus.

He hadn't ridden with me. Yet there he was, standing near the check-in counter.

My heart leaped—a stupid, traitorous reflex. *Did he come to say goodbye? Did he regret sending me away?*

Then I saw the flash of blonde hair.

Chloe.

She was leaning into him, her hand resting possessively against his chest. She whispered something, laughing, and looked up at him with a teasing glint in her eyes. Marcus wasn't pushing her away. He was looking down at her, listening, his face relaxed in a way it never was with me anymore.

They looked like a couple. A real, adult couple.

I was just the child being shipped off to boarding school.

Chloe saw me first. Her smile widened, but it didn't reach her eyes. It was sharp. Predatory.

"Ellie!" she called out, waving. She walked over, dragging Marcus with her. "Safe travels, sweetie. Florence is going to be so good for you. You need to broaden your horizons."

Her words were dripping with subtext. *Get out. He's mine.*

I looked at Marcus.

He didn't even look at me. He was checking his watch.

"The driver will handle your luggage," he said, addressing the air somewhere past my ear. "Check in. Don't miss your flight."

He wouldn't even meet my eyes. He was erasing me before I had even left the ground.

I gripped the handle of my suitcase until my knuckles turned white.

"Goodbye, Marcus," I whispered.

He didn't answer. He turned back to Chloe, who was whispering something in his ear.

I turned around and walked toward security. I didn't look back. I forced myself to put one foot in front of the other.

*This is it,* I told myself. *He is blind. And I am done.*

I pulled out my phone and opened my gallery. Hundreds of photos. Marcus at Christmas. Marcus teaching me to drive. Marcus asleep on the couch.

I hit Select All.

I hit Delete.

The trash can icon emptied.

Zero items.

I boarded the plane, sank into my window seat, and watched Arizona shrink until it was nothing but a topographic map below me. I had four years. Four years to become someone who didn't need him. Four years to ensure that when I returned, I wouldn't be the girl he sent away.

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