The Abandoned Wife's Glamorous Return As A Global Star

No reaction crossed Trevor's face, as though Elyse's words hadn't landed—or weren't worth his attention. What Trevor failed to realize was how much resolve it had taken for Elyse to speak in the first place. Every word had felt like a jagged thorn, scraping through her chest and leaving a quiet, invisible wound behind. Their first stop was the police station. Afterward, Trevor switched into his own car, and the rest of the drive stretched on in heavy, suffocating silence. Once they reached the house, Trevor lifted Elyse from the seat without a word. A haze settled over her, and lacking the will to move, she let herself be carried. The instant they crossed the threshold, something in Trevor shifted. Before they could even reach the bedroom, he abruptly set her down on the sofa. His usually unreadable face cracked, eyes reddened and burning, as he leaned in and claimed her with a flurry of heated, unrestrained kisses. Fabric tore under his impatient hands, her dress reduced to ruined scraps as he took her without pause. The lingering heat from the dream that had haunted her earlier hadn't fully faded; for a fleeting second, his touch dulled the ache in her body. Yet beneath it all, her heart lay in fragments, too broken to mend. Relentless and consuming, he kept her through most of the night—moving from the sofa to the bedroom, then into the confines of the bathroom. By the end, Elyse could barely move, her strength completely spent, her voice hoarse as she cried out and weakly cursed him. His lips brushed her ear in a slow, deliberate motion, his voice dropping into something cold and unyielding. "Elyse, don't ever bring up divorce again." Exhaustion dragged at Elyse's consciousness, leaving her too drained to process his words. With her thoughts slipping into a haze, she murmured a faint agreement. Only then did Trevor loosen his hold on her. After Trevor disappeared into the bathroom to shower, the room sank into a silence, and Elyse hovered at the blurred edge of sleep. Out of nowhere, Trevor's phone lit up with a sharp chime. At three in the morning, a message arriving at that hour instantly stirred a prickle of unease in Elyse's chest. She pushed herself upright, eyes flicking toward the closed bathroom door, heart beginning to pound. In the end, curiosity overpowered hesitation, and she reached for Trevor's phone. There was no need to unlock it—the message glowed boldly across the screen, impossible to miss. "Trevor, I forgot to mention earlier—my prenatal appointment is tomorrow. Could you come with me?" The sender's name sat there like a verdict: Joanna Kirk. The words "prenatal appointment" and "Joanna Kirk," whether read apart or together, pierced straight through Elyse. During the year Elyse had chased after Trevor with stubborn devotion, whispers followed her wherever she went—people kept reminding her that his heart had always belonged to someone else, a girl from his childhood named Joanna. Knowing he already carried a love that deep and enduring, Elyse had long believed she never stood a real chance. She lived off her beauty and charm, and if that couldn't win him over after a full year, then clearly the issue wasn't her—it was him. Just when her resolve finally cracked and Elyse prepared to walk away, Trevor appeared in her life on his own terms. On that particular day, she had been on set, filming a brutal diving sequence. The film's lead actress, bitter from constant comparisons and public ridicule for being outshined by Elyse's looks, took the chance to push her to the edge. Under biting, sub-zero winds, Elyse had been ordered back into the water again and again, each plunge stealing more heat from her body until the cold seeped deep into her bones. Numbness crept through her limbs, draining away her strength until she couldn't even fight her way back to the surface. As her body sank helplessly beneath the water, a firm arm suddenly wrapped around her waist and hauled her into an unyielding embrace. It was none other than Trevor. Afterward, Anthony described the scene to her in hushed, unsettled tones, saying Trevor had looked terrifying that day—his face cold and severe, like something dragged straight out of hell itself. Standing there with a storm simmering in his eyes, Trevor had pointed at each member of the crew one by one, his voice low and sharp enough to cut. "If anything happens to her, every one of you will answer for it. I won't let a single person walk away from this." From that moment on, Elyse stopped caring about the woman Trevor had always cherished in his heart. Before this day, she had already done everything she could to win him over; she had given up once, and that should have been the end of it. Yet, he was the one who came back and reached for her again—so if she held on this time, if she refused to let go, she had every right to. What she hadn't expected, though, was that Trevor would be the one to ask her to be his girlfriend. After a full year together, mounting pressure from Trevor's family pushed him toward marriage, and he finally brought Elyse home to meet them. The instant his parents learned Elyse was an actress, they shut her out without a second thought, refusing even to let her cross the threshold. As a powerful, old-line political dynasty, the Blake family naturally looked down on women like Elyse—someone who had fought her way up through the ruthless entertainment world. Raised under strict discipline, Trevor had always lived by the rules, his life orderly and restrained, leaving no room for rebellion. Expecting the inevitable, Elyse had already prepared herself to walk away from him for good. Then, without warning, he clasped her hand tightly and led her straight to the city hall to register their marriage. Only much later did it dawn on Elyse that even knowing he would be punished for defying his family, he had still chosen to marry her without hesitation, crossing a line he had never dared approach before—all for her. Because of that reckless decision, she had always convinced herself he must have loved her deeply, the kind of love he simply didn't know how to express. Clinging to that belief, she had given herself to him completely over the past three years, pouring in everything she had without holding back. Yet now, the sight of Joanna's message struck her like a savage blow. Harsh clarity flooded in, shattering any chance of rest as she lay stiffly on her back, eyes wide open, staring blankly at the dim bedroom. Over three long years, her belongings had quietly claimed every corner of the space, and she had once believed she could claim his heart just as easily. Only in that moment did the truth settle in—she had been nothing more than a fool clinging to a fantasy. From the bathroom, the steady rush of water suddenly cut off. Without thinking, Elyse squeezed her eyes shut, forcing her breathing into a slow, even rhythm and pretending to be fast asleep. Moments later, the mattress dipped as Trevor climbed in beside her, a trace of cold clinging to his skin—he never skipped those icy showers, no matter the season. Almost deliberately, once he settled beneath the covers, Trevor slid his arms around Elyse's warm, cozy body and drew her snugly against his chest. A sharp chill seeped into her skin, making her shudder and instantly ruining her act. "Trevor! You bastard!" she snapped, her voice edged with irritation. From behind, he tightened his grip, pressing close in a way that felt both possessive and unyielding, his breath brushing her ear as he murmured low, "You shut me out for a month. Consider this a mild punishment. Try that again, and I won't go easy on you." In the past, words like that would have sent a familiar heat through her, her body responding before her mind could catch up—she had always been drawn to him that way. Yet now, the memory of that message flashed cold and sharp, and the thought of him touching someone else turned her stomach, leaving only a sour, creeping disgust. Gradually, the steady rise and fall of his breathing told her he had fallen asleep, though his arm remained locked around her waist like a restraint. Unable to slip free, Elyse lay rigid beneath the covers, staring into the dim gray of early morning until exhaustion finally dragged her into a shallow, uneasy sleep. By the time she stirred again, sunlight had already flooded the space. Pushing herself upright with a lingering heaviness in her limbs, her gaze fell immediately on the birth control pills resting on the nightstand—an almost mocking reminder. Somewhere by now, he was likely at the hospital, standing beside Joanna for her prenatal appointment. Thinking it through, it fit too neatly. The woman he truly loved was already carrying his child. Of course, he wouldn't want her to get pregnant.