The Regretful CEO's Comeback

Chapter 2

After Elodie left the hospital room, the police contacted her and asked her to come in to assist with their investigation.

By the time she'd given her statement at the station, darkness had fallen.

As the lights came on, the city's glamour and decadence stirred to life like an enormous beast awakening from sleep.

She was waiting for a cab by the road when the phone in her purse rang.

It was the hospital. "Ms. Mercer, how are you getting on with the money for your grandmother's surgery?"

A heavy tangle of emotions settled in her chest. "Dr. Voss, could you operate on her first? I'm still raising the money. I'll pay as soon as I have enough."

"It's not that I don't want to help. The hospital has its rules. Your grandmother's coronary artery disease requires heart bypass surgery. We use the best imported surgical materials. Without payment, we can't purchase them, and without them, we can't operate."

The surgery would cost nearly 200,000 dollars, not including the hospital stay for observation afterward.

Elodie had already spent the savings she'd accumulated since graduating on a car, the very one that had nearly hit Seraphina today.

She'd planned to sell it that day for at least 120,000 dollars or so. If she borrowed the rest, the fees wouldn't have been a problem.

Now, though, the police had impounded the car. Even if she swallowed her pride and asked everyone she could, 100,000 dollars was the most she could hope to borrow.

"Would it be all right if I paid half first?" she asked tentatively.

"Ms. Mercer, I understand that you haven't been out of college long and can't afford such expensive treatment. Perhaps you should consider transferring your grandmother to a less expensive hospital."

"No!"

She'd chosen Vita Private Hospital precisely because of its expertise in this area.

Frowning, she bit her lip hard. "Please give me a little more time. I'll have the money soon. Until then, don't stop any of the medication she needs. I'll come in tomorrow and pay part of the bill."

"Then please hurry. Your grandmother is elderly. We can't put off this surgery for too long."

The call ended just as a cab pulled up in front of her.

She grasped the handle and opened the door. As she bent to climb in, a thought flashed through her mind. She stopped, then closed the door. "I'm sorry. I've changed my mind."

The driver muttered something and drove away.

Elodie pressed her lips together, turned without hesitation, and headed for the subway station half a mile away.

As she walked, she worked out what to do. What would she have done 6 months ago? Hidden somewhere and cried, blamed her luck, and waited for someone to pity her and rescue her.

But standing in the night now, her first thought was to open her notes and find the scanned copy of the prenuptial agreement she'd signed back then.

She read it clause by clause.

The terms were clear. After 5 years, the marriage would end amicably, and neither party would trouble the other. If either party initiated a divorce before the 5 years were up, that person would pay the other half of all assets held in their own name.

Her finger stopped on that line.

Suddenly, she realized something.

She'd never been the only person trapped by this marriage. If Damian wanted a divorce, if he wanted his freedom, there was no getting around that clause. She had nothing, so the agreement could hardly hurt her. Having nothing and no one meant exactly that: she had nothing to fear losing. He did.

A hot breeze ruffled the loose strands across her forehead.

She'd endured everything before. She'd avoided upsetting him and pretended to be docile and considerate, believing that if she behaved, she might earn a little affection. Now she understood. He had no affection for her, only charity.

If it was charity, she didn't want a cent.

She hailed a cab and gave the driver her address in Crestwood Hills. As she thought of that cold, empty house and the way he'd come and gone for three years without a second glance at her, the hurt churning inside her slowly cooled into something clearheaded.

She had leverage. She needed to hold on to it herself.

When she entered the house that night, the first thing she did wasn't wait for him or fear him. She sat down with a notebook and carefully listed her accounts, her card numbers, and every traceable sum of money she'd accumulated over the years.

For the first time, she took a serious look at her marriage, as though it were a business venture she'd finally decided whether to pull out of.