Chương 11: A mockery of forever

IMOGEN'S POV

Trigger warning: This chapter contains a subject matter that can be triggering to sensitive readers. Proceed with caution.

Isaac's words stuck a lot in my head. Lunch continued in silence, and I managed to act out my role as a doting wife with practiced ease.

I was numb. Perhaps because I realized it could be true. There was no reason for Elijah to be this way with me if he had fallen out of love.

There was no need for the marriage or acting out to his father that everything was perfectly fine.

It seemed the man knew too, and the only reason Elijah's father was letting it fly was simply because we were doing our best to look like everything was perfect.

The food finished, and we all bid our farewells. When I was back in the car with Elijah, I wanted to ask him.

I was willing to hear a lie. But I didn't have the courage even to follow through.

"We'll be staying at the house my Dad bought us." Elijah told me as he started the car. "Reporters are the kind of cultures that will not just give up even if you shoo them. They will be lurking."

I nodded. Elijah could have abandoned me in the house his father bought us. But he chose to toss me in a hotel. Now that things were complicated for him, he didn't have any qualms about taking me to the house?

Thinking about it caused the question I wanted to ask to fester. It was like a sore, growing larger and all the more painful by the second.

When we reached the wreath gates of the mansion that my father-in-law had gifted me, I stared at Elijah and spoke.

"Elijah, I have a question, and I need you to be honest with me."

He stared at me, studying my expression as if he could map out what I was about to demand.

The gates screeched as an assigned gateman came up to open it, causing Elijah to take his attention away from me.

It felt like he was silencing me. It felt like he just needed the conversation to end there and then. But I refused to be ignored.

"Elijah—"

"Can we not do that here?" His hands gripped the wheel hard till his knuckles turned white.

His eyes were fixated on his driver's mirror. I followed them and noticed that somewhere behind us, hidden behind shrubs, was a reporter with a camera. Elijah had been right after all.

I nodded, understanding the need for caution in a world where every move could be scrutinized.

When Elijah drove through the now open gates, I glanced back one last time, catching a glimpse of the hidden reporter before we were enveloped by the privacy of the estate.

The tension in the car was palpable, suffocating almost, as the vehicle finally came to a stop.

When Elijah finally relaxed his grip on the wheel, I somehow hoped that he was interested in the question I wanted to have, only for him to force his side of the door open and match into the house.

I was appalled. I opened the door on my side and tried to catch up with him.

"Elijah! Elijah!"

He didn't answer. In fact, his steps quickened. He reached into his pocket, brought out a key, and opened the front door of the house.

That moment gave me the opportunity to reach him.

"Elijah, I was talking to you."

He heaved. He fucking heaved like he was the one going through hell.

"I heard you. But can we not do it outside? Can we not even have this conversation now? I just got back from being degraded by my own father. What I need now is some sleep and maybe some alcohol. Whatever you want to nag about this time, I am confident that it can wait.

I scoffed.

"No, it cannot wait," I insisted, my voice rising with frustration. "We need to talk about this. We can't keep ignoring the elephant in the fucking room."

Elijah turned to face me, his expression that of exhaustion and annoyance.

"What do you want from me, Imogen!?" he snapped, his patience wearing thin. "I've had a long day, and I'm not in the mood for another argument."

I took a step closer, refusing to back down. "I want honesty, Elijah," I replied, my voice steady despite how badly my hands were shaking from fear. "Your stepbrother. He told me that you tried to off our engagement and that it almost cost you your inheritance. Is that true?"

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, I thought he might walk away. But then, with a heavy sigh, he relented. "Fine," he muttered, his tone resigned. "Let's talk. But there is a reporter out there. We cannot be lashing at each other like this. I think it is smarter if we have this conversation inside."

Against better judgment, I followed him into the house. Once the door was shut, I asked, "So?"

"It is true." He answered. "When I came back, I had fallen in love with another woman, and I wanted to do right. I wanted to break things off with you. But my parents vehemently refused. You were their ideal daughter-in-law, and no one else was going to compare. So, in a way, please don't assume that it isn't my fault. My parents forced this union on us."

My heart sank as Elijah's words hit me like a ton of bricks. I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

"You roped me into this hell because you didn't want to lose your inheritance?" My voice was trembling when I dropped the damning accusation.

Elijah's expression hardened, and a coldness entered his eyes that sent shivers down my spine. "I did what I had to do to protect myself," he replied icily. "You think you're the only one who is suffering in this marriage? You have no idea what it's been like for me, having to pretend to be happy when all I wanted was to be free of you. I have a woman out there that I love. But I cannot be with because my father must have his way."

"So you'll latch on to me till your father kicks the bucket?" I asked, following up with another question. "What if he remains hale and hearty for the next... fifteen years? You'll stay in this marriage, and then once he does, you will throw me in the trash and marry the woman you actually desire?"

He did not answer. He did not need to. I knew exactly what the answer would be.

My hands clenched into fists at my sides as I fought to keep my composure. "Well, I want out," I declared, my voice wavering but determined. "I want a divorce."

Elijah's laugh was bitter and mocking. "And what makes you think I'll give it to you?" he sneered. "Do you really think my father will let me divorce you without a fight? He'll tear me apart before that ever happens, Imogen. And what about you?" He stalked closer now. "Do you think society will be kind to you? They will see you as nothing but a disgraced woman, a divorcee with no honor or dignity."

My blood ran cold at Elijah's words, but I refused to back down. "I don't care what society thinks," I shot back, my voice trembling with defiance. "I refuse to stay in a marriage built on lies and deceit. If you don't give me a divorce willingly, then I'll make sure your father knows exactly the kind of man that you are. He seems to cherish me. Let's see how you keep your inheritance then?"

That seemed to flip the switch. Elijah's eyes flashed with rage, and before I could react, he lunged forward and grabbed me roughly by the throat, his grip like iron as he slammed into a wall. "Don't you fucking threaten me!" he hissed, his voice dripping with venom. "You think you can just walk away from this? When I am doing everything to stay and make this work. You're nothing without me, do you hear me? Nothing! So don't fucking get on my nerves, and just be a good wife."

When he let go of my throat, I stumbled backward, gasping for air as I pressed my hand against my clearly bruised neck. Elijah's words echoed in my mind, a chilling reminder of the danger I was in.

I had found myself in the worst kind of union—an abusive marriage.

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