#*#4
Eliza froze when she saw the empty room. She pulled away from Julian, storming up to me.
“Blake Carrington, what do you think you’re doing? Haven’t you caused enough trouble at the wedding?” she snapped.
“How dare you turn our house into this? Are you out of your mind?”
Julian, ever the actor, chimed in with mock regret.
“Eliza told you, those weddings were just tests. I’m sorry, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have been so concerned for her.”
He shifted the blame neatly onto me, painting me as the unreasonable one.
I stared at them, the smirk barely hidden on Julian’s face and the superiority in Eliza’s eyes, and I laughed.
“Let me guess, I’m supposed to beg for your forgiveness?”
“Should I apologize for being humiliated and then apologize again for the inconvenience?”
Eliza didn’t catch the sarcasm, nodding as if satisfied.
“If you’d just apologize properly, we might be able to work this out,” she said, looking me up and down before adding, “But like this? Never.”
“Blake Carrington, we’re going to file for divorce tomorrow.”
Eliza had used the threat of divorce before, and each time, I’d caved for the sake of love.
Not this time.
Julian, sensing my silence, egged me on.
“See? He’s too proud, too weak. Can’t even apologize for his wife.”
I chuckled, the absurdity of it all finally sinking in.
If Eliza had been my wife in the true sense, I would have apologized for anything. I’d fought stray dogs for scraps; there was no humiliation I
couldn’t endure.
But she wasn’t my wife. She had just come from a hotel room with Julian, her face still flushed from whatever they’d done.
And they expected me to apologize.
“Fine, you want an apology?” I said, eyes locked on hers. “Tell me, Eliza, where were you these past two days?”
Her face paled, a thin sheen of sweat breaking out on her brow. She knew that without me, she was nothing.
She tried to sound fierce.
“I was at my parents‘. What, I can’t visit them when I’m upset? At least Julian cares enough to check on me. Have you ever done that?”
Even now, she was trying to manipulate me, turning my love against me..
I pulled out my phone and held it up for her to see.
“Look closely. The hotel room charge is right here. Still want to lie to me?”
She slapped the phone out of my hand, shouting, “Hotel? I don’t know anything about that!”
“Blake, if you’d just come to your senses, maybe I’d forgive you! Even if you leave, you’re leaving the house and the dowry. That’s my compensation for wasted years.”
Compensation? For what?
Since we started dating, she hadn’t spent a single cent of her own.
Now, millions in wedding expenses down the drain because of Julian’s provocations, and she dared to demand money from me?
I reached into my bag, pulled out the divorce papers I’d drafted, and tossed them at her feet.
“Here’s your compensation.”
“Trash belongs with trash. I hope you both have a long, miserable life together.”
