The Ashes of Vows (Elara and Damon) novel Chapter 2

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I woke up in the hospital.

A young assistant lawyer stood by my bed, looking helpless.“Mrs. Blackwood,” he said, “the case is closed. You need to try and let it go. Your health is what matters most.”

Lingering pain in my heart jolted me awake. Ignoring the IV in my hand, I suddenly sat up and quickly rummaged through my bag.

“Could you please take a look for me? Does this agreement mean anything?”

My voice trembled as I handed over the document I’d pulled out.

The assistant quickly confirmed, “Mrs. Blackwood, your husband already signed these divorce papers. You just need to sign and submit them, and you’ll be divorced in about a month.”

This morning, I’d taken those very papers and knelt before Damon.

Maybe he was just rushing out the door, or maybe he simply couldn’t believe I’d actually go through with the divorce.

He was so convinced the agreement was a fake he didn’t even glance at it–just signed.

But he’ll never guess I was deadly serious.

I didn’t want to wait another second. I ripped the needle right out of my arm and rushed to the courthouse to submit the paperwork.

Once the paperwork was done, I made one last trip to the beach. In the cool drizzle, I dropped straight to my knees.“Mom,” I whispered, “from now on, I’ll go somewhere by the ocean and stay there, always with you.”

But all that answered was the cold, unforgiving sea breeze.

I don’t know how long I knelt there. Eventually, I wiped my tears and dialed a number.“Hello,” I said, my voice barely steady.“I’d like to……book a staged death operation.”

My voice was raw, but my resolve was absolute:“In one month, the cause of death will be ‘homicide.‘ I’ll handle the location. All you need to do is get me a new identity, rescue me, and get me out of the country.” Yeah, I wasn’t just getting a divorce.

In a month, I was going to get my payback, personally, and leave Damon with a surprise he’d never, ever forget.

By the time I’d finished all that and got back to the villa, it was already dark,

The living room lights were on, and Damon was spoon–feeding Sloane a bowl of chicken soup.

“Damon,” she purred, “I posted that apology letter online.”

She said, leaning her head on his shoulder, “Elara has been trashing me non–stop. Getting dragged online will teach her a lesson. You’re not allowed to interfere.”

Damon’s Adam’s apple bobbed, but he still gave in.“Fine,” he said.“She messed up, she deserves to be punished.”

Suddenly, the online bate flooded back. They’d said my mother deserved to die. Called me a pathetic maid, not even fit to lick the dirt

off Sloane’s shoes…

A sharp pain lanced through my chest, but I walked into the living room, my face a blank slate.

“Where have

you

been?”

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Damon faltered when he saw how pale I was. His voice softened, “That cut on your forehead… What happened?”

I ignored him.

Sloane, though, cut in, her voice sickeningly sweet.“Oh, Elara, you’re back! Perfect timing! I brought you some presents, you should totally check them out!”

Damon cleared his throat, a hesitant look on his face.“Elara, Sloane was in a coma for a long time; she’s still recovering. So she’ll be staying here for a bit. You need to be extra careful with her. She’s lactose intolerant, can’t have anything cold, needs her beauty sleep until ten AM, and all her fruit has to be juiced…”

Every single word was like a dagger twisting in my heart.

I scoffed, utterly stunned.“You expect me to take care of her?”

“Just be a good girl, Elara. What happened before is in the past. Let’s just drop it.

You were a nanny for the Blackwood Clan before, so I trust you with this…”

He trailed off, catching himself before he could say anything more.

On one side of the dining table, there were a whopping 267 rules for taking care of the spoiled princess.

And on the floor, luxury bags were tossed around all messy. A Chanel clutch with a scuffed clasp, an Hermès keychain that looked like a freebie from a big purchase, clearly pre–worn Dior heels…

So these “gifts” were just a pile of cast–off junk.

I suddenly remembered years ago, when one of Damon’s closest friends just called me a “little maid“-and Damon went ballistic. That very night, he had someone shut down a multi–million dollar project the guy was working on.

“Elle is my wife! Anyone who dares to belittle her or mess with her is spitting in my face, Damon’s face!”

But now, he was literally slapping his own face, making me be a live–in maid for my enemy.

All that talk about deep love, all those vows… they were just so damn fragile.

I’d never believe it again.

I pushed back the tears welling up in my eyes. Just thirty more days. I had to suck it all up…

But seriously, who’d have guessed? The very first night Sloane moved in, she started having a “nightmare.

She burst into the master bedroom, barefoot. Damon had just finished his shower.

“Damon, I can’t sleep alone.”

All fragile and clingy, she climbed right into bed, burrowing into Damon’s bare chest.“That guest room mattress is so hard.

I’m scared. I need you to sleep with me.”

Damon’s handsome brow furrowed slightly.

I knew it. He was falling for it, big time.

He didn’t even care I was right there. He just scooped Sloane onto his lap, pulling her into a comforting hug.

His gaze shifted to the left side of the double bed.“Elle,” he started, “Sloane, she’s never really known hardship, you know…

沉

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…Could you, uh, crash in another room for a bit?”

In that moment, I caught the quick flicker of triumph on Sloane’s face.

I scoffed, a sarcastic twist to my lips, and grabbed my pillow, sliding off the bed.

“Since Miss Ashford loves it so much,” I said, “it’s all yours.”

Yup, not just this master bedroom, or even the bed. I was done with him too.