Sluice. App Store research for builders.

Areading-R0

Started 1d ago

I quit all the bad habits my husband hated. I no longer sent him messages every hour to check his whereabouts. Even if he stayed out all night, I stopped questioning him. When I got injured and the doctor asked if they should notify my family, I shook my head: “I’m an orphan. I have no family.” - After their daughter, Gracie, passed away, Adelaide Nayler abandoned every habit Theodore Barrelet had ever loathed. She stopped the hourly messages that she sent to check on his whereabouts; even when he stayed out all night, she no longer met him with hysterical confrontations. When she took a hard fall from a two-meter platform lift during a ballet rehearsal, the doctor asked if they should notify her family. Adelaide simply shook her head. "I'm an orphan," she said calmly. "I have no family." However, the head nurse in the ER recognized her. "Aren't you Mrs. Barrelet? Mr. Barrelet just brought someone in. They're up in the VIP ward. Should I go get him for you?" Only then did she remember that this private hospital was owned by the Barrelet Group. She was about to wave it off as unnecessary, yet half an hour later, Theodore stood in the doorway looking sharp in a dark gray suit. Theodore carried an air of cold command that only came with years of authority. A flicker of impatience crossed his face as he looked at her. "You're hurt. Why didn't you call me?" Adelaide looked away, her eyes fixed on the white hospital sheets. "It's just a torn tendon," she said flatly. "I'm not going to die." Her indifference sparked a sudden, inexplicable flash of anger in Theodore's chest. He remembered a time when Adelaide valued her legs more than life itself. Back then, a simple blister from practice was enough to make her run to him, eyes welling with tears as she begged for comfort. Now, with a ruptured tendon that could end her career, she hadn't even complained a word. Theodore was ready to snap at her, but the voices of young nurses drifting in from the hallway stopped him. "Mr. Barrelet is absolutely devoted to Ms. Maarafie. She only nicked her finger with a craft knife, yet he called the director, cleared the entire ER corridor, and wouldn't let her go for a second—as if he were afraid a single drop of her blood might hit the floor." Theodore's breath hitched. He instinctively glanced at Adelaide, bracing himself for the inevitable explosion of jealousy and rage. But she didn't even blink. She simply leaned back against her pillow, looking as if she were listening to someone else's story. The agitation in Theodore's chest sharpened, and he offered a stiff explanation. "Don't listen to that gossip. Lucille is performing at the art exhibition—her hands are her livelihood. I only brought her here to get her wound dressed because I just happened to pass by." Adelaide gave a noncommittal hum and said nothing more. Her reaction was so calm it frustrated Theodore, his voice rising. "What's with the sarcasm?" "I'm not thinking about anything," Adelaide replied. Her tone was flat, underpinned by a cold, detached rationality. "Lucille is the adopted sister you sponsored and raised. You've always been close, so it's only natural that you'd be worried about her." Theodore used to snap at her, his face dark with cold impatience. "Lucille's health is poor, and I've looked out for her since she was a child. If I don't take care of her, who will? For God's sake, stop being so petty." Now, Adelaide had finally become the poised, selfless woman he had always demanded: no more fighting, no more making a scene—just quiet and sensible. Yet Theodore's chest felt heavy, as if a weight were pressing the air from his lungs. This wasn't right. This wasn't the Adelaide he knew. Just then, Lucille Maarafie's assistant burst through the door in a panic. "Mr. Barrelet, Cille says she's dizzy and nauseous. It might be tetanus! Please, you have to come!" Theodore's simmering frustration finally found a target. "If she's dizzy, she needs a doctor," he snapped. "Am I a physician? Does my presence cure nausea?" The assistant flinched and hurried away. Theodore took a steadying breath before turning back to Adelaide, his tone softened. "Addie, are you still holding Gracie's death against me? Lucille was genuinely careless that day, and I've already canceled her art exhibition as punishment." He moved closer, sitting on the edge of the bed as he reached out to take Adelaide's cold hand in his. "We're still young. We'll have other children," Theodore said, his voice becoming gentle. "Tell you what—I'll clear my schedule for the week and stay here with you while you recover, alright?" But Adelaide silently withdrew her hand, tucking it beneath the covers. Theodore's brows furrowed instantly, his irritation surfacing, but a muffled thud from the hallway cut him off. Lucille, looking frail in her hospital gown, had collapsed just outside the door to Adelaide's ward. Theodore rushed to her side almost by instinct to help her up. "What are you doing? I told you to stay in bed." "I heard that Addie was hurt," Lucille whimpered, her eyes welling with tears. "I couldn't just sit there. I had to come see her." She shrank into Theodore's chest, acting as though she were terrified of Adelaide. "Addie, please don't be angry with me," she sobbed. "I never meant to lose Gracie..." In the past, Adelaide would have collapsed in tears. She would have lunged at Theodore, demanding to know why he was protecting a murderer. But now, she simply closed her eyes in exhaustion, refusing to spare even a glance for the two. She was paper-pale and gaunt, her frame so thin she looked as if a gust of wind might knock her over. There was something about her that felt heartbreakingly fragile, as though she could shatter at any moment. A sharp, sudden pang of guilt stabbed at Theodore's heart. He lowered his voice to Lucille in his arms. "I'm taking you back to your room. The air in here is stifling." He lifted her and strode away. He didn't return for the rest of the night. Instead, a call came through from the American Ballet Theatre. "Ms. Nayler, have you reached a decision regarding the 'The Forgotten Muses' dance restoration project? This is a high-level cultural preservation initiative. Once you join the team, you'll be stationed at a remote research site for at least five years—completely off the grid, with no outside contact. That includes your husband." "I've made up my mind," Adelaide said, her voice unnervingly steady. "Don't worry. I've already had the divorce papers drafted. Once the cooling-off period ends next week, I'll be single. A life of seclusion is exactly what I've been wishing for." ###Chapter 2 The artistic director on the other end of the line hesitated, clearly caught off guard. "Ms. Nayler, are you sure about this? Everyone in this industry knows your history. You were a campus legend for the way you chased Theodore. How you gave up your spot in the finals for the Prix de Lausanne Gold Medal because of him. You even settled for being a background dancer at his company's annual gala..." A dull, grinding ache flared in Adelaide's chest. She had been the dance department's prima ballerina, a swan who commanded the spotlight—yet when it came to Theodore, she had lost everything. Her love for him had been an instantaneous, life-altering spark that turned into a relentless pursuit. They had been university classmates, the kind of pair everyone jokingly labeled the "power couple." He was perpetually at the top of the Finance Department; she was the undisputed face of the Dance Department. Adelaide had never been the type to admit defeat. She had practiced until she collapsed, perfecting every movement in a desperate bid to catch his eye—only to be met with his cold indifference, again and again. But the most bitter pill to swallow was that Theodore had been born into it all. He was a man who effortlessly commanded the status and resources that Adelaide had spent her entire life dreaming of. On the surface, Adelaide challenged him at every turn, but deep down, she had long since woven this man into the very fabric of her being. During her senior year, she had intercepted Theodore while still in her rehearsal gear. Her face was flushed as she asked, "Theodore, if I get the highest score in the graduation showcase, will you be my boyfriend?" She expected someone as arrogant as him to sneer and brush her off. Instead, the young man in the crisp white shirt simply raised an eyebrow. He leaned in, his voice a murmur against her ear. "If you can dance your way into the ABT, I'll marry you." Because of that one offhand remark, Adelaide practically lived in the studio that year. She burned through more than a dozen pairs of pointe shoes, her toes a mess of bloody blisters. But in the end, she placed first in the auditions and secured her spot at the American Ballet Theatre. Theodore kept his word. On the stage of the grand theater, he orchestrated a legendary proposal that became the talk of the city. As red rose petals rained down from the rafters, it looked like the very definition of romance. "Adelaide, marry me. We'll make it official the moment we're of age," he promised, dropping to one knee in the glare of the public eye. At that moment, Adelaide felt as if she held the entire world in her hands. It wasn't until later that she realized the grand gesture had been nothing more than a PR stunt—a calculated move by Theodore to bury the scandal surrounding Lucille's background. Back then, Adelaide was a rising star in the ballet world. She had the fame and the spotlight required to distract the media from the rumors that Lucille was an illegitimate daughter. They were the "it couple," and their perfect narrative was exactly what was needed to appease the shareholders and the public alike. He hadn't chosen her out of love. He had chosen her after weighing the pros and cons. "Ms. Nayler? Are you still there?" the voice on the other end prompted cautiously. "You've gone quiet. Are you having second thoughts about leaving Mr. Barrelet? I understand if you are. After all, you two have such a long history..." "I'm not having second thoughts," Adelaide interrupted, her voice firm. "And I'll never regret this. I stopped loving him a long time ago." The words had barely left her lips when the door to the room swung open with a violent crash. Theodore stood in the doorway, radiating a cold, dark fury. "You stopped loving me?" he demanded, his eyes burning with a dangerous intensity. "Say that again, Adelaide. I dare you." ###Chapter 3 Adelaide had been lying on her side when the call came through. The moment the door crashed open, she hung up, slid her phone under the pillow, and squeezed her eyes shut, feigning sleep. Theodore strode to the bedside, the scent of cigarete smoke clinging to his clothes. When he saw her steady, rhythmic breathing, the tension in his shoulders eased slightly. She must have been talking in her sleep... He let out a breath of relief, yet the words still felt like a thorn twisting in his heart. He couldn't bear the thought of Adelaide even dreaming about not loving him. He reached out and gently shook her. "Addie, wake up. Were you having a nightmare? I heard you crying... You were saying something about not loving someone anymore. Who were you dreaming about?" Adelaide opened her eyes, her gaze hollow. "It was nothing. I just dreamed of Gracie. She was crying, asking me why her daddy left her all alone at the park... asking why no one loved her." Theodore stiffened. He pulled her into a tight embrace, his voice thick with suppressed emotion. "Addie, it was an accident. My heart broke too when she ran off and got lost. Please, don't do this to yourself." He pulled back slightly. His tone laced with urgency as he added. "We're only 27. We'll have another child—a daughter, just like Gracie." Adelaide let him hold her, but she felt nothing. She was completely numb, her heart a dead weight in her chest. She could have more children, of course—but what did that matter? While Gracie was struggling in that freezing river, he had been busy celebrating Lucille's birthday. How could another child ever erase the life that was lost? She didn't even have the energy to argue anymore. She simply moved the conversation along with a quiet, detached calm. "It's late. Is there a reason you're here?" Theodore's expression faltered for a split second, his gaze shifting away. "Actually... Lucille isn't doing well. Her insomnia has been terrible lately. She was hoping for some of that sleep-aid aromatherapy you used to blend for her." A bitter laugh welled up in Adelaide's chest. Here she was with a ruptured tendon, and he had come to her in the dead of night—all to fetch a scented oil for that woman. Theodore seemed to realize how cold the request sounded and quickly backtracked. "You don't have to do it yourself. Just give me the ratio and the list of essential oils, and I'll have my assistant put it together." Theodore had always been a light sleeper. Years ago, when the pressure of work became too much, he would lie awake for hours. For his sake, Adelaide had dedicated herself to studying aromatherapy, eventually creating a blend she called "Cedar Calm." It was the only scent that allowed him to sleep through the night. But years of exposure to high-concentration oils had taken their toll; Adelaide had developed chronic respiratory allergies, and her sense of smell had been permanently dulled. Theodore had never even noticed. In five years of marriage, he hadn't even realized she was allergic to certain types of pollen. It turned out this marriage had been nothing more than a solo performance. The corner of Adelaide's mouth twitched. "Get me a pen and paper. I'll write it down for you." Theodore immediately called someone to bring over a pen and paper. As he watched Adelaide jot down the formula and hand it over without the slightest hesitation, a sudden hollow ache settled in his chest. In the past, if he had asked for this formula, Adelaide would have wrapped her arms around his neck and teased him. "I'm not giving it to you," she would say playfully. "It's my secret. If you want it, you'll just have to keep me around forever so I can light it for you every night." But now, she handed it over as if she were discarding a piece of trash. Theodore took the note, silently reassuring himself that she was simply exhausted—that she was helping because she had always been the one with the soft heart. "Mr. Barrelet! Ms. Maarafie is throwing things," a nurse called out anxiously from the hallway. "She's screaming that there are shadows coming after her..." Theodore's brow furrowed as he snapped impatiently. "You can't even handle something this simple? What the hel am I paying you for?" His voice was sharp with rebuke, but his feet were already moving toward the door. "Addie, go ahead and sleep first. I'm just going to check on her. I'll be right back." He was always like this—spouting bitter disdain for Lucille while his actions consistently put her first. Adelaide had seen through the act long ago. She simply rolled over, her back to the door, and closed her eyes. She had just drifted into a restless half-sleep when Theodore returned moments later. This time, there was no pretense. He tore back the covers and roughly hauled her out of bed. "Adelaide! Lucille had a reaction to the aromatherapy you blended. She's covered in red rashes and going into anaphylactic shock!" Theodore dug his fingers into her jaw, his eyes bloodshot and wild with rage. "What did you put in that formula? Were you trying to kill her?" ###Chapter 4 Adelaide lifted her gaze. Her eyes, once brimming with love, were now a dead calm as they swept indifferently across Theodore's face. "If you think there's something wrong with the blend, send it to the lab and have it tested." Her voice was hoarse, as if her throat were filled with grit. "Or you don't even care about the truth? Maybe you're just looking for an excuse to lash out. If that's the case, stop pretending. Just do it. I'll take the blame." Lucille had used these same underhanded tactics to frame her countless times before. She had shredded her own costumes in the studio and cried, claiming Adelaide had done it. She had poured oil on the floor while Adelaide was rehearsing, then blinked back tears and claimed she'd accidentally spilled water... The list of her petty acts was endless. There was a time when Adelaide couldn't understand how a man as shrewd as Theodore—someone who never lost a fight in the boardroom—could fail to see through such transparent tricks. Now, she knew better. It wasn't that he couldn't see through them; it was that he couldn't stand Lucille's supposed suffering and needed a target for his redirected anger. And that target was always her. His wife. Any desire Adelaide once had to defend herself had been buried in the ground alongside her daughter. She leaned against the headboard, feeling completely numb, even in the face of his accusations. She didn't even feel the sting of the injustice anymore. The sight of her cold, impassive face only made the tightness in Theodore's chest grow worse. He frowned, his voice sharp and defensive. "What do you mean by taking it out on you? Addie, if you feel wronged, then say it. You should just stop with the constant sarcasm. I'm your husband, not your enemy." Adelaide simply closed her eyes again, pulling the duvet higher around her shoulders. "There's nothing left between us. Not anymore." Theodore's heart skipped a beat. "What does that mean? What do you mean there's nothing left between us?" Adelaide didn't answer. She curled into a small ball, using her silence to build a wall that shut him out completely. That sensation of grasping at sand—of losing his grip no matter how hard he squeezed—filled Theodore with a sudden, inexplicable panic. He felt a desperate urge to do something, anything, to shatter the suffocating stillness between them. After a long silence, his voice softened. "Tomorrow is Gracie's memorial service. I'll come to pick you up, and we'll say goodbye to our daughter together." The figure beneath the covers stiffened, yet she still didn't open her eyes. Just then, his assistant's voice, thick with relief, drifted in from the hallway. "Mr. Barrelet, Ms. Maarafie is awake. The red rashes have already started to fade. She's just still very upset, saying that she's frightened..." "I'll be right there," Theodore replied coldly. He looked back at the frail figure in the bed, his gaze lingering for a long moment. "Addie, get some rest. I'll be here early tomorrow morning to take you home." Adelaide didn't sleep a wink that night. Today was the day Gracie would finally be laid to rest. Her precious girl—the life she had carried for ten months, the child who used to beg her in a sweet voice saying, "Dance, Mommy"—would soon be nothing more than a handful of ashes buried in the cold earth. Theodore arrived early the next morning, as promised. They rode in a heavy, suffocating silence in the back of the black Maybach, heading toward the Barrelet's residence. The mansion was transformed; black drapes hung in the building, and the scent of lilies was overwhelming. A somber funeral dirge played softly through the halls. A crowd of mourners had already gathered—some weeping with genuine grief, others merely there to network—but none of them carried the hollow ache that resided in Adelaide's chest. Adelaide's leg hadn't even begun to heal, and every step was a jagged bolt of pain. Leaning heavily on her cane, she struggled forward, desperate to reach the parlor just to see her daughter's portrait one last time. The moment Adelaide stepped in through the door, Theodore's mother, Vanessa Barrelet, lunged at her like a madwoman. "You jinx! How dare you show your face here?" A sharp crack echoed through the room as Vanessa slapped Adelaide hard. Before Adelaide could react, the woman grabbed a fistful of her hair and began dragging her back toward the door, striking her and screaming, "It's your fault! You killed my granddaughter! You knew Gracie wasn't feeling well that day. Why didn't you watch over her? You heartless woman... you're the reason that Gracie is gone!" The blows left Adelaide's ears ringing and her vision blurred; she stood frozen on the spot. It was Lucille who had taken Gracie to the river to sketch that day. It was Lucille who had insisted on keeping a sick child out in the cold wind. So why was her mother-in-law pinning all the blame on her? Instinct told her Theodore was behind this. With great effort, she turned her head, her gaze searching for the man in the black suit. But Theodore averted his eyes, staring blankly at a withered tree through the window, refusing to acknowledge her. At that moment, several relatives swarmed in, joining Vanessa as they shoved Adelaide and hurled insults. "How could a mother like this even live with herself? She couldn't even keep her own child safe!" "Get out! You don't deserve to set foot in this house ever again!" ###Chapter 5 Today was supposed to be the darkest day of Adelaide's life. She had lost her only daughter, yet here she was, dragging her injured leg to say one final goodbye—only to be driven away by her in-laws like an unwanted intruder. They hurled insults at her, and in the chaos, an elbow slammed into her wounded leg. Cold sweat broke out on her forehead as she stumbled and collapsed due to the pain. Her forehead struck the floor, and a thin trail of blood began to trickle down from the corner of her eye. "Enough!" Theodore finally moved. He strode forward, shoving the crowd aside, and swept Adelaide into his arms in one swift motion. "Have you all lost your minds? Gracie's death was an accident. It has nothing to do with Addie! If anyone touches her again, they'll have to answer to me!" The cold, intimidating air radiating from him was absolute. As the head of the Barrelet family, his word was law, and the crowd instantly fell back. Theodore's face was ashen with rage. He swept Adelaide into his arms and carried her to the study on the second floor. He grabbed a first-aid kit and began cleaning the gash on her forehead. His movements were clumsy, and his touch lacked real tenderness. Adelaide's eyes remained hollow; she didn't even let out a whimper of pain. She simply stared coldly at the man looming over her, her voice hoarse. "Theodore, Lucille was the one who insisted on taking Gracie out that day. She was the one so caught up in her painting that she lost sight of our daughter. So why does your mother keep screaming that I'm the one who killed Gracie?" The hand holding the cotton swab froze. Theodore's eyes shifted, unable to meet hers. "Addie, you know Lucille's situation is... delicate. She's the adopted daughter of the Barrelet family; we've sponsored her since she was a child. People are already gossiping about her. If the world finds out her negligence led to Gracie's drowning, her career in the art world is over. The Barrelet Group's stock will also take a massive hit. "But you're different. You're Mrs. Barrelet—my wife. As long as I'm protecting you, no one can actually touch you. So just... let Cille off the hook on this one. Take the hit for her. In exchange, I'll transfer the shares of the grand theater project in the south side of the city into your name." Theodore went quiet, watching her with a mix of anxiety and expectation, waiting for her to respond. He had expected Adelaide to fight back with her usual fire—to sob about the injustice of it all and demand to know why he always chose Lucille. Instead, she simply looked at him. Her gaze was so hollow it sent a flicker of panic through his heart. After a long pause, she spoke indifferently, "Do whatever you want. I don't care." Reputation? Innocence? In a world where she has lost her daughter, those things were meaningless. If taking the fall meant he would finally leave her alone and stop hounding her, then so be it. Her answer was so immediate that Theodore was stunned, the restless anxiety in his chest tightening by the second. "Addie, don't make more of this than it is. My responsibility to Lucille is purely a matter of duty," Theodore explained flatly, trying to soothe his own uneasiness. "She's been frail since she was a child—sensitive, fragile. I promised my father I'd look out for her. If the truth comes out, the public will crucify her. She wouldn't be able to bear it..." "I understand," Adelaide said, lowering her eyes to hide the lightless void within them. "You don't need to explain yourself." Explanations are for the people you love; grievances only matter when you still care enough to feel them. She thought of him as nothing more than a stranger now. It only made sense for a stranger to sacrifice her to protect the woman he loved; she felt neither surprised nor particularly sad. Theodore was about to say something to break the tension when the study door burst open. A maid rushed in, breathless. "Mr. Barrelet, you need to come quickly! Ms. Maarafie went to the parlor to pay her respects and ran into Ms. Barrelet. They're fighting downstairs!" Elodie Barrelet was Theodore's younger sister and his only sibling. Sharp-tongued and fiercely protective, Elodie had always loathed Lucille's innocent victim act. Years ago, Lucille had manipulated a situation that resulted in Elodie being shipped off to boarding school, where she had suffered through a miserable few years. Because of that, Elodie despised her, and she never missed an opportunity to lash out at Lucille. Theodore's face went pale. He dropped the gauze he was holding. "Addie, finish the bandage yourself. I have to check on them. Elodie has a bad temper and won't hold back." Without waiting for a response, he dashed out of the room quickly. Adelaide stared at the door as it swung shut, feeling nothing but a wave of bitter irony. When his own sister and his "adopted" sister fought, the one who always won his sympathy was the outsider—the girl with no blood ties to the family. Downstairs, Elodie's voice, sharp and thick with tears, pierced through the floorboards. "Theodore, are you blind? I'm your sister! Lucille is the one who let Gracie die, and you're still standing up for her? How can you even look Addie in the eye? "Addie used to be so proud—look at what you've turned her into! Haven't you noticed she doesn't even bother to look at you anymore? It's because she's done with you. She has completely given up on you!" ###Chapter 6 Theodore felt as though Elodie's words had struck him with the force of a heavy hammer. "Shut up!" he barked, blinded by fury. "This is between Addie and me. Just stay out of it!" He reached down and hauled Lucille into his arms. Though her hair was a mess, she appeared unhurt as she slumped against him. Without so much as a glance at his trembling sister, he strode out of the house. The second Theodore was gone, the tension snapped. Vanessa, unable to vent her rage on her son for protecting an outsider, turned her venom elsewhere. She rounded up several of the sturdier maids and stormed upstairs. "Adelaide, Theodore isn't here to protect you now!" Vanessa's face twisted with malice. "You killed Gracie. So, you're going to pay for it. I'll make sure every day you spend in this house is a living hel." As soon as she finished speaking, the maids lunged at Adelaide. They tied up Adelaide's hands and feet with thick ropes. They dragged her downstairs like a dead weight, heading straight for the pool in the backyard. The late autumn water was ice-cold. Vanessa kicked Adelaide in the back of the knees, forcing her down at the pool's edge, then grabbed a handful of her hair and shoved her head underwater. "This is how Gracie drowned!" Vanessa screamed. "Do you have any idea what it feels like to have your lungs fill with water? I'm going to make sure you find out!" The freezing water rushed into Adelaide's mouth and nose instantly. The sensation of suffocation tightened around her throat like a cold, suffocating weight. A searing pain tore through her lungs, and the wound on her leg throbbed with a sharp, agonizing ache as the cold bit into it. It was so cold... so painful... Was this the same despair Gracie felt while struggling in the river? Had she cried out for her mother at the end? Just as Adelaide's consciousness began to slip away, she was wrenched up by her hair. As her head broke the surface, she gasped for air and kept coughing. But she had barely managed two frantic gasps of air before Vanessa became fierce again, slamming her head back into the water. "You can swim! You were the star of the varsity team, so don't tell me you couldn't save her!" Vanessa shrieked, her voice reaching a fever pitch. "I know! You were taking it out on Theodore! You hated him for choosing Cille over you, so you let that child die just to get back at him! You heartless monster!" Adelaide's eyes remained open in the water, her vision blurred. How pathetic. Even an outsider like Vanessa could see that Lucille was the one Theodore truly loved and protected. Only Theodore himself clung to the thin lie of "brotherly love," deceiving no one but himself. The torment continued more than a dozen times, until Adelaide no longer had the strength to fight back. A faint, wispy cloud of crimson began to bloom on the surface of the water. "Madam Barrelet, stop!" a timid maid cried out, her voice trembling. "Mrs. Barrelet is coughing up blood! It looks like she has a pulmonary hemorrhage. If this continues, she's going to die!" Only then did Vanessa reluctantly let go, spitting on the pavement in disgust. "Pathetic. Who are you trying to fool by playing dead?" Adelaide had long drifted into unconsciousness. When she woke up again, she found herself in a hospital room heavy with the clinical scent of disinfectant. Theodore was sitting at her bedside. His jaw was covered in dark stubble, and his eyes were bloodshot. The usually impeccable CEO looked completely disheveled. "Addie, you're awake." Seeing her eyes flutter open, a spark of life flickered in his dull gaze. He gripped her cold hand tightly. "I'm so sorry. I failed to protect you. I've given my mother a stern talking-to, and the maids who touched you have all been fired. I promise, no one will ever hurt you again." Adelaide stared blankly at the ceiling, feeling nothing but a hollow emptiness. She had nearly died at his mother's hands, yet all he offered was a "talking-to." When it came to letting her down, Theodore never failed to disappoint. "Fine," she whispered. She pulled her hand from his and rolled over, turning her back to him. She was unwilling to utter another word. Theodore panicked at her cold indifference. Elodie's furious shout echoed in his mind again, "She's done with you!" A wave of dread washed over him—the terrifying sense that he was losing her. Instinctively, he reached out, desperate to claw back some kind of connection. "Addie, I've been by your side for 24 hours straight. My stomach is killing me—my ulcers are acting up again," Theodore murmured, his voice softening into a pathetic plea. "I just want that pumpkin soup you used to make for me. Nothing else sits right. Could you..." His eyes drifted to Adelaide's leg in its heavy cast and the dark bruises mottling her skin. He suddenly realized the absurdity of his request. He scrambled to backtrack. "You don't have to get up! Just walk me through it—tell me how to get the heat right, and I'll do it myself. I'm going to take care of you from now on, okay?" Adelaide remained turned away, her eyes squeezed shut. Her voice was cold and detached. "Theodore, you're a grown man. If you want soup, go buy some—or better yet, go ask your precious Cille to make it for you. "Don't bother me." ###Chapter 7 In the past, if Theodore so much as winced or muttered about a stomachache, she would abandon a crucial solo rehearsal just to rush home and fix him something to soothe it. Once, on the eve of a major tour, she had stayed on her feet for two hours simmering soup for him just because he mentioned a craving. She did it all with an ankle so swollen she could barely stand, enduring every bit of that pain. But now, as he stood there wincing in front of her, she simply kept her back turned and gave him the cold shoulder. A suffocating tightness gripped Theodore's chest. He couldn't hold it back any longer. "Addie, why are you being so cold to me lately? You were never like this before." Adelaide didn't turn around, her voice completely flat. "I'm not like this before? Back then, if I asked a single question about where you were going, you'd call me a nuisance. You told me I was like a shadow you couldn't shake. Now that I've stopped bothering you and given you the freedom you wanted, what is it that you're actually unhappy about?" Theodore was left speechless by her words. There was a time when Adelaide's entire world revolved around him; her only wish was to be by his side every second. Back then, he had only felt suffocated. More than once, he had scolded her in front of others, "As my wife, can't you show some independence? Hovering over me all day long. Even if you aren't embarrassed by it, I certainly am!" Now, she had finally become exactly what he'd asked for: independent and uninterested in his life. She wouldn't even deign to look him in the eye. So why did his chest feel like a gaping hole with a cold wind whistling through it? "Addie, I know Gracie's death has left you shattered." Theodore sighed, hoping this acknowledgment would earn her forgiveness. "Just give me some time, and I'll make it up to you. We have the rest of our lives, and I have all the patience in the world to wait for you to let me back in." He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her cold forehead. "Go back to sleep. I won't disturb you anymore." Theodore left, brimming with confidence, certain that time was on his side. He had no idea that the moment the door clicked shut, the phone tucked under Adelaide's pillow buzzed twice. The first notification was from the courthouse. "Ms. Nayler, the divorce certificate between you and Mr. Barrelet has been finalized. Please present your case number to collect the official documents within three business days." The second was from the American Ballet Theatre. "Ms. Nayler, the 'The Forgotten Muses' restoration project officially launches tomorrow. Your transport is currently en route to the hospital for the secure transfer. Please send us your location." Adelaide stared at the two lines of text on the screen. After a long moment, a relieved smile appeared on her face. Finally, the day she had been waiting for had arrived. But before she left for good, there was one last piece of filth she needed to sweep away. Adelaide threw back the covers, enduring the agony of her ruptured tendon. Grabbing her cane, she hobbled toward Lucille's room next door. The hallway was deathly quiet. As she expected, Theodore was nowhere to be seen. Of course, he wasn't—a man like him would never actually play the devoted nurse all night. "Adelaide? What are you doing here?" Lucille was propped up in bed, scrolling through her phone. The second she saw Adelaide, her mask of fragile innocence vanished, replaced by a smug, venomous sneer. "Are you here to gloat? You're pathetic. Look at your injuries, and Theo couldn't care less. Unlike me, I break out in a tiny rash, and he nearly burns the hospital down." Lucille let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "If I hadn't made up some craving for a late-night dessert from that bistro across town just to get rid of him, do you think you'd even be able to get past the door?" Adelaide didn't respond to that; she had long since become numb to these petty games. She leaned heavily on her cane and stared down at Lucille, her gaze hard and unwavering. "Lucille, I'm only going to ask you once. That day at the river with Gracie—did she really slip... or did you push her?" Lucille froze, then burst into hysterical laughter, as if it were the funniest joke she’d ever heard. "Addie, do you really want the truth? I'm afraid it'll drive you straight over the edge." "Try me." Adelaide's knuckles turned white as she gripped the handle of her cane. A venomous glint flashed in Lucille's eyes. She leaned in, her voice dropping to a low, lethal hiss. "Then listen closely... Theodore was there that day." Adelaide's eyes widened. The air left her lungs in a sharp, silent gasp. "When the riverbank collapsed, Gracie and I went down at the same time." Lucille watched with sadistic pleasure as the color drained from Adelaide's face, twisting the knife deeper. "Theo was standing right there. He didn't hesitate for a single second as he rushed toward me and grabbed my hand. "And your poor little daughter... She was swept away by the river current right in front of him." Lucille let out a sharp, mocking cackle. "Do you know the best part? I can swim. I was on the diving team! But Theo still chose to save me first. "In his heart, you and that brat of yours aren't worth one of my fingers." Boom! The final, frayed thread of Adelaide's sanity broke. So that was the truth. So he was there that day. It turned out that he was the one who gave up on Gracie. Tears blurred her vision, and she wiped them away with a jagged breath. Staring at Lucille's twisted, gloating face, she realized how utterly blind Theodore was—to cherish such a wretched soul as his most prized possession. "I see. I understand now." Adelaide nodded, her voice eerily calm. She turned around, leaned heavily on her cane, and dragged her injured leg step by painful step out of the room, down the corridors and finally through the hospital entrance. Theodore, there was nothing left between us. It wasn't just that we had no future. You'd reached back and set our entire past on fire. From this day on, we were strangers. In this life, and whatever came after, I never wanted to see your face again. Adelaide took a taxi to the courthouse and sat on the steps through the night. The moment the doors opened at dawn, she collected her divorce certificate. She slid the copy intended for Theodore into an envelope and asked a courier to deliver it directly to the Barrelet Group. With that final task complete, a black SUV with government plates pulled up to the curb. Adelaide opened the door and got in without a moment's hesitation. Just as the car started, she took out her phone and hit "send" on the audio recording from the night before. The one where Lucille admitted, in her own words, that Theodore had stood by and watched Gracie drown. That was right. She had been recording the entire time. If the law couldn't touch them for their moral rot, then she would let the storm of public outcry tear the masks off this despicable pair. This was the last thing she could do as a mother for her daughter before she left. "Theodore, were you ready to receive this great gift from me?" she thought.

🔥Click to read all Chapters>>>

m.readharbor.com

facebook · instagram · audience_network · messenger · threads

GB DE FR BR

Ryan Callum

Started 1d ago

What competitors are running.