Chapter 15

The slanting sunlight stretched the shadows of the three figures long across the mansion’s entrance. Sebastian Sinclair stared fixedly at the unfamiliar man beside Eleanor Knight, who was tenderly draping a coat over her shoulders. The intimate gesture stung his eyes like shards of glass.

“Eleanor, who is—” His words died in his throat as her icy glare cut him off.

“Mr. Sinclair, we’re divorced.” She adjusted the coat on her shoulders. “My personal life is none of your concern.”

Sebastian’s throat worked, his voice trembling. “I was wrong… Just give me another chance, please. I swear, from now on, there’ll only be you in my heart.”

Eleanor suddenly laughed—a bright, sharp sound like the edge of a blade.

“Five years ago, you said the exact same thing.” She tilted her head, her gaze mocking. “Tell me, Sebastian, do you think I have a terrible memory? Or do you just believe I’m exceptionally stupid?”

His face drained of color. He opened his mouth but found no defense. The evidence of his betrayal lay between them like a series of brutal slaps.

“I’m curious,” Eleanor said, leisurely smoothing her cuffs, “what made you so confident that I’d give up my freedom to return to that living hell of a marriage?”

With every word, Sebastian’s heart sank deeper.

Just then, Isabella Whitlock stumbled toward them in a fluster.

“Sebastian!” She grabbed his arm, but the moment her eyes met Eleanor’s, he wrenched himself free.

Isabella fell to the ground, her carefully styled hair disheveled. When she looked up, Eleanor’s faintly amused gaze met hers.

“M-Mrs. Sinclair…” Isabella’s eyes welled with tears. “Please don’t misunderstand. There’s really nothing between Mr. Sinclair and me—”

“Isabella!” Sebastian snapped.

But Eleanor crossed her arms, intrigued. “Let her finish. I’d love to hear how my ex-husband spoke of me behind my back.”

Isabella bit her lip, hesitating before whispering, “He said you were temperamental… that you threw tantrums over the smallest things—”

“Enough!” Sebastian’s temple throbbed with fury.

Eleanor only laughed harder, clapping lightly. “Bravo. Sebastian, your two-faced act never fails to impress.”

“Eleanor, it’s not like that—” His voice shook.

“We’re divorced.” She enunciated each word. “Congratulations, Isabella. You can finally stand by his side—openly.”

The words struck Sebastian like a hammer. He staggered back, his face ashen.

But Isabella’s eyes lit up with sudden excitement. “You’re really divorced?”

“Without a doubt.” Eleanor turned toward the mansion. “May you two live happily ever after.”

Sebastian stood frozen, watching her disappear behind the door. The setting sun stretched his shadow long and solitary, as if the world had abandoned him.

Suddenly, breathing became difficult. The happiness he had destroyed with his own hands was gone—forever out of reach.

Chapter 16

Isabella Whitlock was still reeling from the sudden appearance of Sebastian Sinclair when all that remained before her was a cloud of dust. She staggered to her feet, the scrapes on her knees burning sharply.

“Eleanor Knight, you’ll never beat me!” She turned with a defiant tilt of her chin, only to meet eyes as cold as ice.

Eleanor descended the steps slowly, the click of her heels against the ground like the ticking of a countdown. Without warning, she seized Isabella’s chin, her grip so tight it twisted the other woman’s face in pain.

“You should’ve known this day would come the moment you broke that pocket watch,” Eleanor murmured, her voice feather-light, but her fingers sharp as blades.

Slap!

Isabella’s head snapped to the side, her carefully styled curls now tangled against her reddened cheek. She gaped in disbelief. “You dare hit me?”

“This is just the first one.” Eleanor flexed her wrist, cold fury glinting in her eyes. “The next is for my grandmother.”

When the second slap came with a sharp crack, Isabella shrieked and collapsed to the ground. Trembling, she fumbled for her phone, only for Eleanor to kick it away.

“Go ahead. Call Sebastian back,” Eleanor said, looking down at her with icy disdain. “Let him see you like this.”

The attic window suddenly flew open, and Lucas Chase leaned out, his expression dark. He took the stairs two at a time but slowed his steps as he approached.

“Does your hand hurt?” He cradled Eleanor’s reddened palm, his brows furrowed so deeply they could crush a fly.

Before Eleanor could answer, he swept her into his arms. As he kicked the door open, he cast a chilling glance back at Isabella. “If you provoke her again, I’ll be the one dealing with you next time.”

The kitchen was filled with the sweet scent of simmering pears, but Lucas insisted on boiling eggs instead. Eleanor studied his tense profile, then playfully nudged his calf with her toe. “Really that mad?”

“The finest watchmaker in Europe is in Zurich,” he said abruptly, pulling a simple silver ring from his pocket. “Once the watch is fixed, we’ll visit your grandmother’s grave.”

The ring gleamed softly under the light. Eleanor’s eyes stung suddenly, as if the stopped pocket watch had begun ticking again in her chest.

“What if it can’t be repaired—”

“Then we’ll buy a new one.” Lucas slid the ring onto her finger, his breath warm against her ear as he leaned in. “But you have to let me try.”