Neglected Wife's Bitter Sweet Revenge

Elinor Frost POV:

Braden reached us in three furious strides, grabbing Eleanor' s wrist with a force that made her gasp. His eyes, dark and stormy, were fixed on her, completely ignoring me. "Who are you?" he snarled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "And why are you touching my wife?"

Eleanor, despite her surprise, yanked her hand free, rubbing her wrist. "Mr. Harmon, I'm Eleanor Vance, Elinor's divorce attorney." She said it with a calm authority that only seemed to infuriate Braden further.

His head snapped towards me, his eyes burning with accusation. "Divorce attorney?" he scoffed, a cruel smirk twisting his lips. "You're moving fast, aren't you, Elinor? Couldn't wait to find a replacement, could you? Or did you already have him lined up, waiting in the wings?" His gaze flickered to Eleanor, then back to me, full of contempt. "So quick to discard me, yet so eager to find comfort elsewhere." He leaned in, his voice dropping to a venomous whisper only I could hear. "Don't think I don't see what you're doing, Frosty. Playing the victim, then running to the first man who'll give you attention. Pathetic."

The stinging words, the blatant injustice, the years of his infidelity thrown back in my face as if I were the one in the wrong-it was too much. A white-hot rage, unlike anything I had ever felt, surged through me. My hand moved before I even registered the thought, a sharp, resounding slap echoing through the suddenly silent coffee shop.

Braden froze, his head snapping to the side, a crimson mark blooming on his cheek. Eleanor, startled, took a step back.

"She's not looking for a 'replacement', Mr. Harmon," Eleanor interjected, her voice sharp with indignation. "She's looking for freedom. And she's entitled to it."

Before Eleanor could say another word, Braden retaliated. His fist, fueled by blind fury, flew out, connecting with Eleanor's jaw. The sound was sickening. Eleanor stumbled backward, collapsing into a stack of chairs with a loud clatter. Papers, legal documents, scattered across the floor like fallen leaves.

"Eleanor!" I cried, rushing to her side. The shock of his violence, so raw and unrestrained, paralyzed me for a split second. "Braden, stop it! What are you doing?"

But as I knelt beside Eleanor, a searing pain ripped through my abdomen. It was a sharp, twisting agony, far worse than any dizziness I had felt before. My breath caught in my throat, a choked sob escaping my lips. I clutched my stomach, doubling over, the world tilting violently.

Braden, his face still contorted with rage, looked down at me. Then, his eyes widened, his anger replaced by a sudden, sickening pallor. "Elinor?" he choked out, his voice laced with uncharacteristic fear. "What's wrong?" He rushed forward, pushing Eleanor's unconscious form aside. "Elinor, baby, what is it? I'll get you to a doctor. Immediately." Panic etched his face, a raw, genuine fear that made my fractured heart clench.

The next thing I knew, I was in a hospital bed again, the sterile scent a familiar greeting. The dull ache in my abdomen was still there, a constant, nagging reminder. Braden was beside me, his hand clasping mine, his face pale and drawn. He looked genuinely worried, his eyes scanning my face with an intensity I hadn't seen in years.

"Elinor," he whispered, his voice hoarse, "are you okay? I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have... I don't know what came over me."

For a fleeting moment, a foolish, desperate part of me wondered if this was it. If the old Braden, the caring, gentle Braden, had finally returned. Perhaps the raw shock of what he'd done had jolted him back to reality. Perhaps this was the turning point.

Then, a familiar, saccharine voice cut through the silence. "Braden, darling, I told you she was just being dramatic. She always knows how to make a scene."

Destany. She stood in the doorway, her arm in a sling, a bandage over her temple. Her eyes, however, held a triumphant glint that belied her injured appearance. "It was just a little fall, Braden. She's fine. We should go. Your grandfather is furious about your little 'scuffle' at the coffee shop. He said we need to address the media immediately."

Braden flinched, but his gaze remained fixed on me.

"Oh, and I brought your divorce papers, Elinor," Destany added, her voice dripping with false concern. She held up a crumpled stack of documents, the very ones that had scattered across the coffee shop floor. "Braden accidentally picked them up. Such a clumsy coincidence, wasn't it?" Her eyes, though, were gleaming with knowing malice.

She saw them. She had seen the divorce papers. The realization hit me like a cold wave. Her visit wasn't about concern; it was about confirming my departure, about securing her place. I watched as a flicker of pure, unadulterated excitement danced in her eyes. She wanted this. She wanted me gone.

"You knew, didn't you?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper, but laced with an undeniable steel. "You saw the papers in the coffee shop, and you came here to confirm. You wanted me out of the way, didn't you, Destany?"

Destany's triumphant smile faltered, replaced by a momentary flash of shock. She hadn't expected me to confront her. "What? Of course not, Elinor! I just... I was worried about Braden. He's so upset. And I wanted to make sure you were okay, too, of course." Her excuse was as flimsy as her earlier act.

Braden, who had been listening in stunned silence, finally looked up, a frown deepening on his face. "Destany," he warned, his voice low, "that's enough."

The tension in the room was palpable, thick with unspoken truths. Three people, caught in a web of deceit, betrayal, and unacknowledged desires.

With a sudden, decisive movement, I pulled my hand from Braden's grasp. It felt cold, detached. I met his eyes, my own devoid of any lingering affection. "I want a divorce, Braden," I said, each word a hammer blow against the fragile peace. "Now."

Braden blinked, a slow, disbelieving blink. Then, a strange smile touched his lips. It wasn't a happy smile, or even a cruel one. It was... relieved? He reached out, his hand gently stroking my hair. "Elinor, my love," he murmured, his voice surprisingly soft, "that won't be necessary. You're pregnant."

The words hung in the air, echoing in the sterile room, shattering the fragile remnants of my world. Pregnant? Me?

My hand flew to my abdomen, a primal, protective instinct overriding everything else. My mind reeled. The dizzy spells, the nausea, the sudden aversion to certain smells... I had dismissed them as stress, a consequence of Braden's ongoing cruelty. But a baby? Our baby? The timing was impossibly, cruelly wrong.

"No," I whispered, shaking my head, "that changes nothing. I still want a divorce." My voice was firm, though my mind was a whirlwind of confusion.

Destany let out a small, triumphant gasp. "Pregnant?" she exclaimed, her eyes widening with a mix of shock and a barely concealed excitement. "Braden, you have to keep her! Think of the family legacy! Think of Keshawn!" She gripped his arm, urging him, her voice laced with desperation. "You can't let her leave now!"

Braden's gaze hardened, his eyes flashing with a cold anger I recognized. "Destany, be quiet," he snapped, his voice sharp and menacing. "Get out."

Her face fell, the excitement draining away, replaced by a bruised, wounded expression. "But Braden, I'm just trying to help-"

"I said, get out!" he roared, his voice echoing off the hospital walls. "Now!"

Destany, chastened, recoiled, then scurried out of the room, her shoulders slumped in defeat. I watched her go, a strange sense of vindication mixing with a bitter understanding. She truly had wanted me gone. She had seen the divorce papers as her golden ticket, her chance to finally claim Braden, and the Harmon legacy, for herself. My pregnancy had just thwarted her carefully laid plans.

Braden turned back to me, his expression softening, but his eyes still held a calculating glint. "Elinor, you need to think about this," he said, his voice now calm, almost persuasive. "A baby changes everything. I know things have been difficult, but for the sake of our child, we can make this work. Just give me one month. Think about it. Please."

One month? My head throbbed. What was he saying? Was this genuine remorse, or another one of his manipulations? Was the baby simply another means to control me, another asset to secure?

"A child won't fix what's broken between us, Braden," I said, my voice heavy with certainty. "It won't erase the years of neglect, the public humiliations, the constant betrayals. It won't make you love me."

He leaned closer, his eyes locking onto mine, a strange mix of anger and something else-resentment? "Love?" he scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping him. "You think this is about love, Elinor? You think you have the right to talk about love? You were never supposed to be more than a convenient solution, a way to appease Grandfather. But then you tried to make me feel something. You tried to make me love you. And look what happened. You pushed me away. You made me hate you." He gripped my hand, his fingers bruising mine. "You tell me, Elinor. Who held the power in this relationship, truly? Who controlled who?"