Abandoned Wife: Now Untouchable

Chapter 4 My Other Home

Bowden Clayton's POV:

Anabella and Elinor had been gone for over twenty-four hours.

The silence in the house was uncanny, but I didn't think it was a big deal. This wasn't the first time she had tried to leverage a divorce to threaten me.

How could a woman who hadn't worked a day in seven years expect to survive out there, especially with a child in tow? It was impossible.

"Dad, are we having pizza tonight?" Dexter sat on the sofa, nonchalantly tinkering with his new Lego set.

To him, the absence of the mother who constantly managed him, banned his snacks, and forced him to practice piano was actually a reason to celebrate.

"Whatever you want," I answered absentmindedly.

The following day, as soon as I reached the office, I called Edmund Chavez's assistant.

Clayton Tech was at a critical juncture of expansion. If I could secure an investment from the financial world's "oracle," our stock price would at least triple.

"My apologies, Mr. Clayton," Frederick, Edmund's assistant, replied with a cold, businesslike detachment. "Mr. Chavez departed for Londale today for a business engagement. Please wait until his return to schedule an appointment."

I hung up the phone, feeling a surge of irritation.

Analia, dressed in sharp professional attire, pushed the door open. She held a manila envelope, her expression looking a bit strange.

"Bowden, someone just delivered this." She handed the envelope to me and lowered her voice. "It's a legal notice... from Anabella's lawyer."

I let out a cold laugh as I tore it open. "She really doesn't know when to quit. Let's see which third-rate firm she's scrounged up..."

My voice died in my throat.

The gold-embossed lion crest at the top of the stationery stung my eyes.

It was from Jewell.

He was the most prestigious and expensive divorce attorney. The cases he took on usually started with a baseline of ten million dollars.

"Where did she get the money for Jewell?" I slammed the paper onto the desk, my heart skipping a beat.

All of Anabella's primary credit cards were under my name, and I had frozen every single one of them. Meanwhile, all her jewelry and designer watches were still sitting in our bedroom.

Analia noticed my suspicion and leaned in closer.

"I've heard... that this lawyer Cullen has a complicated reputation in certain circles. There are rumors that he reaches 'physical arrangements' with his beautiful female clients to offset his legal fees. And Anabella is a beauty, so..."

I felt a rush of blood surge to my head.

The Anabella I knew had once lived in a tiny, cramped apartment for the sake of my career; she had sold the jewelry her mother left her just to support my startup. And now, she was supposedly climbing into another man's bed just to come after me.

At the mere thought of that image, a fire of jealousy and rage incinerated my thoughts.

"Find the best private investigator," I hissed through gritted teeth. "Track them down. I want to know where she's hiding, who she's fooling around with, and exactly how she managed to hire Jewell."

Analia nodded obediently, a faint, knowing smile touching her lips. "Don't worry, Bowden. I'll see to it."

Anabella Clayton's POV:

After Elinor rested for two days, her illness had completely cleared. I immediately took her and flew straight across the Atlantic.

The cold Londale rain lashed against the windows of our rented Jaguar. Elinor looked out curiously at the green fields blurring past.

The car veered off the motorway and entered a vast, secluded private estate. At the end of the drive stood a magnificent manor surrounded by perfectly manicured hedges.

I stopped at the gates, rolled down my window, and pressed the bronze intercom.

"Welcome to the Sullivan Mansion. Do you have an appointment?"

I took a deep breath, and the posh received pronunciation I had suppressed for years surged out like a natural spring. "It's Anabella. Tell my father I'm home."

A few minutes later, the heavy black iron gates slowly groaned open.

"Mommy, what is this place?" Elinor leaned against the window, her green eyes filled with awe. "It's like a giant park."

"This is my home," I said softly, a whirlwind of emotions stirring in my chest. "And from now on... it will be yours, too."

"Your home? In Londale? Why didn't I know?" Elinor turned to look at me.

"It was my home once. I grew up in Londale." I let out a wry, self-deprecating smile. "And of course, as you can see, they got divorced."

The car traveled down the tree-lined avenue for a long time before finally pulling up to a breathtaking castle steeped in centuries of history.

In front of the main entrance, two rows of servants in charcoal-black uniforms were already waiting. Standing at the very front was an elderly couple, silver-haired and impeccably poised.

"Ms. Clayton," the head butler, Galen, said. His tone was stern, yet it carried a trace of restrained affection.

I pushed the car door open and lunged forward to hug him, then held Leona, the housekeeper, just as tightly.

"Oh, Ms. Clayton, have you left your manners on the Arcanian continent?" Galen grumbled, though his hand gently patted my back. Leona let out a laugh, her eyes shimmering with moisture.

"Mr. Sullivan is waiting for you in the second-floor study," Galen said, straightening the suit I had just mussed. "He hasn't said a word."

Leona tenderly took Elinor's hand. "Sweetheart, you must be Elinor. Do you like riding horses?"

Elinor looked toward me, somewhat hesitant.

"Go on, baby." I encouraged her, stroking her head. "Mommy used to have a pony named Lily. She was my best friend."

"Lily is a mother now," Leona added. "And her daughter is named Elinor, too."

"Really?!" Elinor's eyes sparkled. "Can I go see her?"

"Of course."

As Elinor skipped away with Leona, the smile on my face gradually faded. "Let's go, Galen."

The study door opened, and the scent of expensive cigars wafted toward me.

My father, Winslow Sullivan, sat behind a massive mahogany desk. His hair was stark white, yet combed back with military precision.

It had been nearly ten years since I last saw him. He... he had aged significantly.

I swallowed hard and cleared my throat.

"Father."

He set his book down, his cold, angular face devoid of any warmth. "Anabella? What, ran out of room in Arcania?"

There it was, his usual coldness and mockery.

Winslow Sullivan, a knight of the realm—an extremely cold and rational man. He had been married three times, had eight children within those marriages, and a nameless number of others outside them, including several genetically screened IVF babies.

His life's goal was to select the finest offspring through eugenics. He would keep the elite ones by his side to groom personally, while the mediocre ones were sent away with a child support check to their mothers, never to be seen again.

I had been raised in the forge of that elite education until I was sixteen. That was when my mother, whom he had discarded like rubbish, crossed the ocean to find me, making me realize that life didn't have to be lived this way.

So, I had resolutely abandoned the name Sullivan and followed my mother back to Arcania.

"I've decided to get a divorce," I said levelly.

"Such a failed investment," he remarked, his eyebrow arching slightly.

I nodded, my voice calm. "I admit it. It was indeed a failure. When I was young, I was impulsive for love and too desperate for a home. But time has revealed that I chose an inadequate father for my children."

"Cutting your losses is a wise move, though." Winslow stared at me, then suddenly let out a low, rumbling laugh. "So, are you ready to become The Apex once more?"

I narrowed my eyes. "It seems you've been keeping tabs on me. Yes. It's time for a change."

"Well, then, welcome home, my candidate heir."