"Pfft… cough, cough." Elena choked, spluttering water down her chin as she coughed.
Lucien's expression turned cold, his voice laced with steel. "Talk."
She wiped her mouth, eyes flashing. "Is it me who can miraculously conceive without sperm, or are you secretly capable of remote impregnation now?" She tilted her head, the edge in her voice impossible to miss. "Remind me, when exactly did you stop being so damn careful?"
The sharpness of her tone made the air between them bristle.
"You've got a nasty tongue," Lucien said with a hollow laugh.
But he clearly didn't think it was possible. That much was obvious—he didn't press further.
Instead, he dropped to one knee beside the bed and opened the first aid kit, pulling out antiseptic. He gently took her ankle in his hand.
Elena didn't resist. She knew better. He wasn't someone you challenged into submission. He would always remain calm, composed, always in control.
He wasn't a loving husband—but as a big brother figure from childhood, he had been almost perfect.
He set her foot on his knee, holding her pale ankle with one hand while cleaning the wound with tweezers dipped in iodine. His movements were steady, practiced—like muscle memory.
She watched him, and in a flash, it was like time unraveled.
Fourteen years ago, she'd been covered in blood, shivering with fear, refusing to let any doctor near her. He'd been the only one she trusted.
He'd crouched at her bedside just like this, patching her up with all the patience in the world.
"Don't be scared, Ellie. I'll protect you. I won't let anything hurt us again."
It had been so long since they'd shared a moment like this.
But four years of emotional distance had left its scars. If he truly cared for her, he never would've let it get this far.
Lucien finished tying the gauze and then reached into the box, tossing something at her.
A pregnancy test.
"Go take it."
Elena stared at the stick in her hand. "I didn't eat much this afternoon. It's probably just my stomach acting up—"
"Take it." His voice cut across hers.
Of course. Of course he would react this way. He'd never wanted a child with her. And now that Raquel was back in his life, the very idea was intolerable.
She took the test with a stiff nod and disappeared into the bathroom.
Five minutes later, she came out, holding the test out to him like a trophy forged in disappointment.
"One line. Not pregnant. Relax." Her words dripped with sarcasm.
Lucien glanced at it without a word, then replied in a flat, cold voice. "That's a relief."
He didn't want her pregnant. That much was clear. Maybe sleeping with her had been a mistake on his part. A lapse in judgment. But the idea of fathering her child? Unthinkable.
Even if it happened, he'd probably see the child as illegitimate.
"I'm sleeping in the study. You need to think about your actions," Lucien said before turning and walking out.
Elena stared at the test stick before throwing it into the trash. Her legs gave out as she sank onto the bed, a hollow thud echoing in the room.
---
The next morning, sunlight spilled across the sheets when Elena finally stirred.
She reached up, her fingers brushing her earring. Something didn't feel right.
She turned toward the mirror—and froze.
A pair of diamond earrings, shaped like gardenias with soft pink pearls nestled at their center. The very same pair she'd left behind.
They'd found their way back to her.
A confusing wave of emotion rolled through her as her phone vibrated.
She glanced around. Her handbag was back too.
The caller ID read: Jenna.
"Elena? Are you okay?" Jenna asked, breathless.
"Hm?"
"I mean—have you seen it yet? The trending article? I'm texting it to you now."
Elena opened the message. A tabloid headline stared back at her:
"Corporate Royalty: Lucien Bennett Seen Vacationing with Rising Violinist and Her Parents"
Below the headline was a photo: Lucien pushing an older woman in a wheelchair, with Raquel walking beside a well-dressed older man. They looked every bit like one big, happy family.
But Elena knew the truth. Those weren't Raquel's parents—they were Lucien's godparents, longtime family friends. Still, no one online cared about facts.
The comments were full of heart emojis and hashtags: #PowerCoupleGoals #WeddingSoon?
"They're all fawning over this supposed 'rising artist,'" Jenna scoffed. "Please. Anyone with money can book a solo concert in Vienna. And don't get me started on her fake following—at least two million of her fans are bots."
Elena stayed silent, letting her friend vent.
"Honestly, you've got real talent. You've got over six million followers under a side account you barely even use! You should be the one trending, not this orchestra Barbie."
Elena smiled faintly and plucked the earrings off.
"Well," she murmured, "Lucien always did have a taste for green tea and fake sweetness. Nothing I can do about that."
"Wait, what? Where are you going with this?"
"I'm divorcing him," Elena said plainly. "Can I crash at your place for a while?"
Silence on the other end. Then a loud clatter, like Jenna had dropped her phone.
---
After breakfast, Elena walked into the study.
She printed out a divorce agreement and organized her portfolio—resume, performance videos, awards, and a list of recent dance projects. She emailed everything to Ethan, a talent agent she knew, asking him to submit it on her behalf.
Then she began packing.
Just the essentials. A few outfits for each season. A clean break.
Jenna arrived in her car. Elena took one last look at the villa as morning light kissed the windows. Her eyes were swollen but dry.
Jenna took her hand. "Looking back at your ex is like driving with the rearview mirror taped to your face. Guaranteed crash."
Elena gave her a weak smile. "You're right. Forward it is."
Just then, her phone buzzed. A message from an unfamiliar number. The red light blinked on the screen.
Jenna peeked. "Lana Matthews? Isn't that Raquel's manager?"
"She probably wants to book a solo performance. Raquel can't handle the spotlight alone."
"You're not serious. She wants you to ghost-play for her?"
"One million per show," Elena replied casually—and promptly blocked the number.
Jenna burst into laughter. "God, that woman couldn't carry a concert even if it came in a gift bag!"
---
Elena dropped off her luggage at Jenna's place and headed straight to Bennett Enterprises.
The family's legacy company had become bloated and outdated, and Lucien had known it. Eight years ago, he carved out Bennett's fastest-growing branch—Stellar Holdings—and turned it into a powerhouse.
He'd long since outpaced his father. Technically still the "heir," but in practice, Lucien was the future of the entire Bennett empire.
A year ago, Elena's grandmother had arranged for her to work in the president's office at Stellar, hoping proximity would strengthen their strained marriage.
Today, the office buzzed with chatter. One of the senior assistants, Linda, was leaving due to pregnancy and passing out wedding favors.
Elena accepted one with a smile, offering congratulations.
Back at her desk, she began typing up her resignation letter.
Linda walked by and glanced down. "You too?"
"Huh?"
"The form. Are you pregnant?"
Heads turned. Elena had always attracted attention, effortlessly beautiful and poised. A few male colleagues exchanged glances.
"No, nothing like that," Elena said, still typing. "Just leaving for personal reasons."
"So when are you going to start a family then?" Linda asked lightly. "You're still young."
"I'd love to," Elena replied dryly. "But my husband… well. Great at bed, but empty inside."
Linda gasped. "Wait—he's infertile? Girl, no offense, but how have you put up with that and bad breath?"
The bad breath joke had been going around since a mix-up in the parking lot months ago, when someone saw Elena with Lucien and assumed they'd kissed. She'd denied it, and the office rumor mill had done the rest.
Now, infertility was added to the pile.
Elena pictured Lucien's cold, perfect face—and laughed under her breath.
"You've got too much time on your hands." A voice cut through the room like ice.
She turned. Lucien was standing at the door, his gaze unreadable.
Everyone fell silent.
Chen, one of the managers, tried to recover. "President Bennett, we were just—"
Lucien didn't even glance at him. His eyes were locked on Elena.
"Thank you for your service," he said to Linda, his tone brisk. "Consider this your bonus. Take the rest of the day off."
Linda nearly dropped her wedding candies in delight.
"Elena," Lucien said flatly. "My office. Now."
As she walked toward his door, coworkers whispered behind her.
"God, he's still so intense."
"She's been under his nose a whole year. If he was into her, wouldn't he have made a move by now?"
"I mean, come on. He's clearly taken. That violinist is all over the headlines."
Elena heard them—but she didn't flinch. If anything, the absurdity made her want to laugh again.
She printed out the documents in her hand and stepped into his office.
Lucien didn't even look up. "So this is how you reflect?"
Two pages landed in front of him.
Her resignation letter. And a divorce agreement.
"Sign them both, Mr. Bennett. Thanks for everything."