When The Devil Wants

Chapter two

(Eleanor’s POV)

Martha stared in shock at the vase in my hand. My hands slowly came down on their own.

“Sorry about that, I thought you had gone home for tonight,” I rubbed my forehead as I tried to catch my breath.

“Ms. There’s an envelope for you,” Martha lifted a black envelope in her hand. Her eyes didn’t meet mine. Martha never asked questions. That’s why Marcus kept her.

“Who dropped this?” I stretched my hands and took it from her. The leather felt cold, like it had been out for a long time.

“There’s no name, ma. It was left on the porch, and it’s addressed to you,” her tone remained placid.

“Left on the porch?” I turned the envelope over. No seal. No return address. Just my name in thick, deliberate strokes. _Eleanor Thornhill._

“Did you see who left it?”

“No ma. The cameras were… off.” She paused. “For ten minutes. Exactly at 8pm.”

My chest tightened. Marcus didn’t do surprises. This wasn’t him. I tore open the letter. Words printed in bold black read:

‘Be my plus one’

There was no signature. Neither a date. Just a black card with gold edges. And the time: 10pm.

A very clear message. Definitely not from Marcus. Then who could it be?

“Thank you, Martha,” I said as I picked up my plate and strolled out.

“Ma, should I call Mr. Vale to confirm?” Martha asked behind me. I stopped. Didn’t turn. “No. He’s busy. With his business.”

Back in the room, I stared skeptically at the letter. Deliberating whether to honor or ignore the invite. Then curiosity kicked in. I needed to know who sent these.

My phone buzzed. The screen lit up with an unknown number.

Text: 10pm. I'll be waiting. - L_

My breath hitched. Wondering who exactly it was.

I took a look inside my closet. The red dress no longer caught my attention. My eyes trailed to a black dinner gown. Its dark look beckoning me. I took it out and slipped into it. It fitted perfectly. Like it was made for a funeral. Or a coronation.

Martha knocked softly. “Ma, the driver is waiting.”

“Tell him I'll be down in a minute,” I said, adjusting the strap.

“Where are you going, ma?” Her voice cracked, just a little. Pity again.

I met her eyes in the mirror. “It's a secret Martha.”

“A secret, ma?”

“Yes," I whispered. Tonight I’m not Marcus’s wife. I’m going to bury the love I once nurtured.

Martha hesitated, then pressed a small black clutch into my hand. “Then take this. It'll complete your outfit."

I smiled at her. For the first time in two years, it was genuine. Then I made my way downstairs to the car.

The car moved. The city lights blurred past. And for the first time, I wasn’t chasing him. I was walking toward something else.

The car arrived at the venue, everywhere was lit. People chattered and observed, wine glasses clinking here and there.

I stepped down from the car. One leg after another. The black gown slid against my skin like armor. My face carried a genuine smile this time. Being alone felt better than I imagined.

"Over here miss" "one pose for the camera". Reporters flashed and clamored. Phones like fireflies.

"Any reason you didn't appear with Mr Vale tonight?" someone shot from the crowd. I stiffened. No reply. The name Vale sounded strange to me.

Tonight I was making the headlines, not as his wife. But as Eleanor Thornhill.

I stepped into the hall, shoulders squared. Confidence sprouted in me.

Then a waiter approached me with a silver tray. I cast a look at the alcohol calling out to me. But I decided against it. That's not what I came for.

"Someone asked me to give this to you ma'am." He handed me a key card. Room number 306, which was the VIP floor.

"Thank you," I smiled and took the card from him.

The hall buzzed with people. Cool air caressing my face, everywhere smelled of expensive perfume and old money.

I walked towards the stairs. The sound of my heels gnawing at attention, I was alone. Just me and the woman I was becoming. With new-found confidence, I made my way to the top floor.

"Eleanor" that voice, familiar and impossible to ignore. I turned around

"Marcus". I drawled out, the name tasted bitter on my tongue.

"What are you doing here?" he spat, the annoyance heavy in his tone.

"It's dinner night, Marcus, I came for dinner." I stared back at him in the eye.

"I thought I told you to stay home," his voice carried irritation.

"Stay home?," I shot back, anger slowly rising within me.

" So I can watch you dance with her on the news tomorrow."

His jaw ticked. "That's not—"

" I get to decide whether I stay home or not," I cut him off. He visibly stiffened. Surprise flashing across his face. This was the first time I had defied him so openly, and I felt good. Very good.

Just then—" Sorry I was gone for so long," a sickening sweet voice sounded. Stella. She walked towards us, linking her arm to his like a habit. Like she owned him. Her silk dress drawing all the way down, her doe eyes glistening under the chandelier light, her appearance could raise the protective instincts of any man.

I scowled. Of course she'd wear white, she always had to be the bride. Even when it wasn't her wedding.

Then her eyes trailed to me.

"Eleanor. Fancy seeing you here, you came. Alone," she said, the mockery evident in her voice, but I wasn't letting her win tonight.

" I was invited," I pulled the key card from my clutch, waving it in their faces, pride stirring up in me. Their expressions changed in an instant.

"From who?" Marcus scowled, face devoid of any warmth.

" You're my wife, you can't go about accepting invites from anyone just to spite me," he stepped closer, his words threatening. His cologne hitting me, the one I used to love, now smelled like control.

"Wife?," I laughed. The sound coming out hollow

" What we have is only on paper, Marcus, don't get too into the game," I threw his words back at him. He breathed in, attempting to calm himself. I smiled.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I have somewhere to get to."

I patted my dress and made my way around them.

“Not so soon.” A heavy voice sounded, then, without warning, my arm was grabbed. I spun around almost immediately. Just then a ripping sound echoed through the building, gasps filled the crowd as phones lifted.

“What just happened?” someone whispered from the crowd.