Elise had learned how to smile in public while screaming in silence inside. Tonight was no different — except this time, something inside her cracked wide open.
**
The gala was in full swing, the grand hall bathed in a golden glow, champagne flutes clinking softly over murmured conversations and laughter. Victor stood beside her, hand lightly resting on her lower back, the picture of the doting husband. Cameras flashed, and for the hundredth time that evening, Elise tilted her head, curled her lips just right, and pretended she belonged to this world of polished lies.
Behind that perfect red lipstick, her teeth clenched.
It wasn't always like this.
There was a time when Victor's touch sent electricity through her. Now, it chilled her to the bone.
"Elise," he said through a smile meant for the crowd. "The Donati investors are here. Play the game."
Play the game. She hated that phrase. She wasn't his actress. She was — or used to be — his wife. His equal. His muse, he once called her. But now she was just… a pawn in his world of deals and strategies.
She turned with forced elegance toward the group he gestured to, flashing her "perfect wife" smile. The conversation was hollow, words bouncing around about percentages, mergers, growth projections. All she heard was the echo of her own heartbeats, each one thudding with the same question: How did we get here?
When the meeting ended, Victor leaned close to her ear, voice low. "Thank you for being graceful. I need you to stay sharp tonight. Tomorrow's board announcement will change everything."
She wanted to ask, Will it change us?
But she already knew the answer.
Key Moment:
An hour later, she excused herself, claiming a headache, and disappeared into the quiet of a back corridor. Her heels echoed off the marble, each step leading her further from the woman the world thought she was.
Camille found her outside, leaning against the stone balustrade, clutching a glass of untouched champagne.
"Tell me you're not about to throw yourself over," Camille said softly, brushing Elise's arm.
"I wouldn't give them the pleasure," Elise muttered with a half-laugh.
Camille tilted her head. "You looked like a porcelain doll in there. Beautiful. But dead in the eyes."
Elise swallowed hard. "I'm tired, Cam. Not physically. Tired of pretending. Tired of smiling while my soul dries up."
Camille didn't say anything for a long moment. Then she reached into her clutch and pulled out a folded paper. "You asked me once to find a therapist — discreet, off-record. I did. I think it's time."
Elise looked down at the paper but didn't take it. "He'd never let me."
"You don't need his permission."
Flashback/Tension Reveal:
Just weeks earlier, Elise had approached Victor about traveling — alone — to spend time at a women's writing retreat in the countryside. She wanted to rediscover herself, to breathe again.
He hadn't yelled. That wasn't Victor's style. He'd simply said, "You're not an artist, Elise. You're my wife. Don't confuse the two."
That sentence never stopped echoing inside her.
Back to Present:
"I don't know who I am anymore," Elise confessed.
"You do," Camille replied gently. "You've just been told to forget for so long, you started believing it."
For a second, just one, Elise let herself imagine packing a bag, leaving this world of crystal chandeliers and cold stares, and rediscovering the girl who used to write poetry on café napkins and believed in love stories that didn't hurt.
A burst of laughter from inside broke her reverie.
"Elise," Victor's voice called from the doorway. "There you are."
She straightened reflexively. Camille's hand gently brushed hers — a silent warning: Don't lose yourself again.
Victor approached, his smile polished, but eyes slightly narrowed. "I've been looking for you."
"Just needed air," she replied, eyes neutral.
He glanced at Camille, then said with deliberate softness, "Your absence was noted. You coming back inside?"
"I'll be right there."
A muscle in his jaw tightened, but he didn't argue. Just leaned in, kissed her cheek, and whispered, "We'll talk later."
Camille waited until he disappeared before whispering, "You're stronger than you think."
Elise exhaled shakily. "Then why do I feel like I'm crumbling?"
Scene Transition: Tension in the Bedroom
Back home, their penthouse was cloaked in an unnatural silence. Elise removed her heels like someone removing shackles, her feet aching, but her soul heavier.
Victor emerged from the bathroom in a crisp white shirt, unbuttoning it slowly. "You disappeared at a crucial moment."
"I had a headache," she said without looking at him.
"You could've said something. I looked like a fool."
Elise turned to him, something burning behind her eyes. "Do you even hear yourself, Victor? It's always about how I make you look. Do you care how I feel?"
He blinked, stunned. "Of course I do."
"Really? When's the last time you asked me if I was happy? Not useful. Not efficient. Happy."
Silence.
He finally said, "This lifestyle comes with sacrifices, Elise. We both knew that."
"No," she said, stepping closer, her voice trembling. "I didn't sign up to be a symbol. I signed up to be loved."
"You are loved," he said, his voice low, almost defensive.
"No, Victor. I'm displayed. Not loved. Not truly."
**
He reached for her hand, but she pulled away. Her next words were a whisper, but they struck like thunder:
"I want a divorce."
Victor's hand froze mid-air.
She saw it — the slight flinch in his eyes, the crack in the armor. "You don't mean that," he said, almost softly.
"I do," she said, more firmly now.
"Elise—"
"I've already spoken to a lawyer," she added, the lie tasting like fire on her tongue. She hadn't yet. But if she didn't draw the line now, she never would.
His face changed. That softness hardened into something else — pride, confusion, fear? She couldn't tell. And for once, she didn't care.
"I won't let you throw this away," he said quietly.
"I already did," she replied. "Tonight was just the last time I'd pretend."
She turned, walked into the guest room, and closed the door. Behind her, the man she once adored stood in the ruins of a marriage built on shadows and silence.
And she, heart pounding, placed her hand on her belly. She hadn't confirmed it yet. But her body had changed. Subtle signs whispered the truth.
A new life was growing inside her.
She closed her eyes and whispered into the dark, "I won't let you grow up in a cage."
**
Chapter Summary :
In this chapter, Elise reaches her emotional breaking point during a high-profile gala, culminating in a confrontation with Victor at home where she demands a divorce. The chapter deepens the central conflict and ends with a powerful cliffhanger: Elise may be pregnant. The tone maintains emotional intensity, advances character development, and introduces a new narrative stake that will resurface in Chapter 5.
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