Chapter 95

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden hue over the sprawling gardens of the Carter estate. Eleanor Thompson stood by the window, her fingers tracing the intricate patterns of the lace curtains. The room was silent, save for the soft ticking of the antique clock on the mantelpiece. Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, each one more tumultuous than the last.

Nathaniel Carter had been distant lately, his usual composed demeanor replaced by a cold, almost mechanical efficiency. It was as if the man she had once known had been replaced by a stranger. Eleanor couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss, something that went beyond the usual strains of their complicated relationship.

The sound of footsteps in the hallway pulled her from her reverie. She turned just as the door creaked open, revealing Nathaniel's tall, imposing figure. His expression was unreadable, his eyes dark and inscrutable.

"Eleanor," he began, his voice low and measured. "We need to talk."

Her heart skipped a beat. Those words never boded well. She nodded, gesturing for him to take a seat. He remained standing, his hands clasped behind his back.

"I've been thinking about our situation," he continued, his gaze fixed on a point just beyond her shoulder. "It's clear that things between us have become... untenable."

Eleanor's breath caught in her throat. She had expected many things, but not this. Not now. "Nathaniel, what are you saying?"

He finally met her eyes, and for a brief moment, she thought she saw a flicker of emotion. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared. "I'm saying that perhaps it's time we consider... ending this marriage."

The words hung in the air like a death sentence. Eleanor felt as though the ground had been ripped out from under her. She had always known that their marriage was built on shaky foundations, but she had never imagined it would come to this.

"Ending it?" she echoed, her voice barely above a whisper. "Just like that?"

Nathaniel's jaw tightened. "It's not as simple as that, Eleanor. You know that. But we can't continue like this. It's not fair to either of us."

She wanted to argue, to plead, to do anything to change his mind. But deep down, she knew he was right. Their marriage had been a facade from the beginning, a union born out of duty rather than love. And yet, the thought of letting go was almost too much to bear.

"Is there someone else?" she asked, the question slipping out before she could stop it.

Nathaniel's expression hardened. "That's not what this is about."

"But is there?" she pressed, her voice rising. "Is there someone else, Nathaniel?"

He didn't answer immediately, and that silence spoke volumes. Eleanor felt a surge of anger, of betrayal, but also of something else—something that felt dangerously like relief.

"Eleanor," he said finally, his tone softening. "This isn't about anyone else. It's about us. About what we've become."

She turned away, unable to look at him any longer. The tears that had been threatening to fall finally did, streaming down her cheeks in silent rivers. She felt his hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off.

"Please," she whispered. "Just... go."

For a moment, he hesitated, as if he wanted to say more. But in the end, he simply nodded and left the room, closing the door softly behind him.

Eleanor sank to the floor, her body trembling with the weight of everything she had just lost. The future she had once imagined was now nothing more than a distant memory, shattered beyond repair.

But even as she grieved, a small, stubborn part of her refused to give up. She had survived worse, and she would survive this too. Whatever came next, she would face it head-on, just as she always had.

And as the first stars began to twinkle in the night sky, Eleanor Thompson made a silent vow to herself: she would not let this be the end. Not for her. Not ever.

Only then did Eleanor realize something was amiss. She slowly withdrew her foot, which had been poised to deliver another kick to Nathaniel's crotch.

His gaze was icy, even behind the mask. It felt as though he wanted to tear her apart, piece by piece.

Eleanor held his gaze for a long moment before finally breaking the silence. "Why... Why did you bring me here?"

"What's the matter? Are you upset that I've ruined your plans?" he sneered.

Nathaniel's expression darkened as his grip on her chin tightened. Clearly, he was still holding a grudge over her earlier rejection of his dance invitation. The kick she had just delivered only added fuel to the fire.

His grip was so strong it felt as though he might crush her bones.

Eleanor winced in pain, her brows furrowing. She tried to push his hand away, but Nathaniel pinned her hands down. Then, he pressed his knee between her legs, trapping her.

"You're certainly quite popular, Ms. Thompson," he said, his gaze fixed on her. "I never realized you had the talent to be a socialite."

In the past, Eleanor had always been quiet and reserved. She only revealed a different side of herself on rare occasions.

Initially, Nathaniel had thought he was the only one who could see that side of her. But now, it seemed he was wrong.

He felt deceived—no, played with.

Eleanor's expression shifted slightly at his words, but she quickly masked it with a smile. "So, in your eyes, does dancing two songs with someone make me a socialite?"

"It wouldn't be the same for others. But you're different. Don't you think it's inappropriate for you to smile like that at a man?" he questioned.

"What's different about me?" she shot back instinctively.

As soon as the words left her mouth, realization dawned on her. She turned her gaze toward him slowly. "What do you mean by that?"

Nathaniel didn't answer. Instead, he merely narrowed his eyes at her.

His silence confirmed her suspicions. It was exactly as Eleanor had thought.

The only thing that set her apart from others was the fact that she had nearly been assaulted.

After Samuel had been arrested, Eleanor had overheard people saying that the reason she had almost been assaulted was because she had been promiscuous.

But what had stayed with her the most was that Nathaniel had once told her she wasn't at fault.

They had already been divorced by then, and she no longer had any feelings for him. But his words had given her immense courage. For once, she had felt as though she wasn't alone.

But now, he was reprimanding her for smiling at a man. It turned out that the words he had spoken back then were just a means to placate her.

Deep down, he also believed she was at fault for the incident. That was why he told her not to smile at others like that.

Eleanor's eyes reddened as she stared at Nathaniel. Her hands went slack under his grip.

His hold on her loosened as he realized what he had just said. But before he could react, she pulled her hand free and slapped him. The sound echoed sharply in the air.

Nathaniel's expression darkened instantly. He pinned her hands down again, his lips pursed, his gaze icy.

Eleanor didn't back down. She stood her ground, chin held high, meeting his gaze defiantly.

Her makeup gave her a daring edge that night, and her slightly reddened eyes added a delicate charm to her appearance.

Something stirred in Nathaniel's heart. Suddenly, he let out a cold scoff before bending to lift her into his arms.