Chapter 1
“Elizabeth Percy, don’t kid yourself. I’ll never love you!” The man grabbed her neck, pinning her to the sofa, his face contorted with disgust. “I’m done with you. Behave yourself. In six months, we’re getting divorced!”
“I didn’t push Esme Russell. She fell into the pool on her own!” Elizabeth said weakly, her frail body trembling. Soaked and terrified from nearly drowning, she struggled to speak.
“Stop lying. You’ve been friends with Esme for years. You know she’s scared of water!” His grip tightened. He blamed her instantly, simply because of their long-standing friendship.
A tear traced a path down Elizabeth’s cheek. It was almost unbelievable that the man berating her was her husband. She had loved Alexander Tudor for four years and been married to him for three. Three years ago, the prospect of marrying him had thrilled her beyond measure. But after the wedding, she discovered that his mother, Elara Tudor, was the true obstacle to his marrying his beloved Esme. Elizabeth had been merely a pawn.
When Esme fell into the pool, everyone rushed to her aid, showering her with concern. But when Elizabeth fell, no one cared; she nearly perished in the icy water. He remembered Esme's fear of water, yet conveniently forgot Elizabeth shared that fear.
Realizing her meticulously constructed marriage was a sham, Elizabeth found herself laughing. Seeing her cold smile, Alexander's eyes hardened.
“Crazy woman!” he spat.
And perhaps she was. To marry Alexander, she had repeatedly defied her father, Declan, shattering the Percy family and ultimately causing his hospitalization. Declan had warned her, “Marrying a man who doesn’t love you will only bring you pain. You won’t win.” But she had foolishly believed that Alexander's willingness to marry her was the ultimate validation, and that her love would eventually reach him. She had assured Declan of her confidence, swearing she wouldn’t lose, but she was wrong. Victory or defeat wasn't in her hands; it rested solely with Alexander.
Just then, Alexander’s phone rang. The caller ID erased the anger from his face. In the quiet living room, Elizabeth faintly heard a woman’s sweet voice.
He picked up his suit jacket, his tone softening, “Don’t worry, I’ll be right there.” He hung up, shot Elizabeth a venomous look, and left.
“Alexander,” Elizabeth’s voice was hoarse, desperate to keep him. “I’m scared of water too.”
He didn’t hesitate, dismissing her words as absurd. Esme's terror stemmed from almost drowning while saving him during a kidnapping. Elizabeth has a diving certificate, but she says she’s scared of water? Does she think lying will make me love her? She’s delusional! Alexander mused.
Elizabeth watched him go, tears streaming down her face. Heartbroken, she finally understood: he had never truly chosen her.
With red-rimmed eyes, she asked, “In these seven years, have you ever loved me, even a little?”
He turned, sneering. “You think you have the right to talk about love with me? Elizabeth, spare me your pathetic pity. It disgusts me!” His eyes blazed with fury.
She knew he desired another woman, yet she had still plotted to marry him. Was this her definition of love? Elizabeth’s heart ached; tears flowed silently as she closed her eyes. In seven years, she hadn’t earned even a shred of his trust.
Ending the torment seemed preferable. She no longer wished to remain in a marriage that repulsed him. Wiping her tears, she looked at him and said, “Alexander, let’s get a divorce.”
Alexander stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes wide with astonishment. He couldn’t believe it. For three years, she had played the perfect wife. No matter his cruelty, she had never mentioned divorce. What was this? His throat tightened, his brows furrowed. “Elizabeth, cut the crap. Go to the hospital and apologize to Esme!”
Elizabeth bit her lip, numb with despair. Then, gathering her strength, she snapped back, “I said divorce. Don’t you understand?”
Stunned by her outburst, his eyes darkened. She stood near the sofa, physically close yet a world away. He hadn't truly looked at her in a long time. She had lost weight, a pale shadow of the vibrant woman she’d been before their marriage. It was May, and Lisbon's chill lingered. Elizabeth, still damp and shivering from her fall, looked utterly miserable.
He should be relieved, shouldn't he? Yet, seeing her face, he felt suffocated. “You sure about this?” he asked, studying her as if she were a stranger. She had schemed to obtain this marriage. Was she truly ready to relinquish it?
Alexander, impeccably dressed, was undeniably handsome. That face had been her undoing. She had endured his coldness and Esme's presence, clinging to their marriage. She thought she’d done everything possible, but a marriage requires two willing partners. She refused to be a puppet any longer, nor to stand between him and the woman he truly loved.
“I’ve thought it through,” Elizabeth said, nodding with a genuine smile.
Alexander’s brow twitched, his grip on his jacket tightening. That familiar, unsettling feeling returned.
“I’ve loved you for seven years, Alexander. I lost.” Her smile was gentle, despite the pain. She had lost. Alexander had never loved her. She had refused to admit it before, but now she must.
Alexander listened, his irritation growing.
“Do whatever you want.” He slammed the door and left.
Elizabeth was accustomed to his tantrums; a few days of silence and he would pretend nothing had happened. She slumped onto the sofa, a bitter smile playing on her lips. “Time to wake up from this seven-year dream,” she murmured, picking up her phone and dialing a number.