Elena's POV
I woke up with a heavy headache. I was confused, not knowing why I was in a bed—with God knows who. When I turned, I found no one beside me, but I could hear the sound of the shower running.
"This is my time to get the hell out of here," I said to myself.
I slipped into my clothes without hesitation, grabbed my shoes and purse, and ran my fingers through my hair in a quick attempt to fix it. Then I ran out.
I immediately got a cab in front of the hotel.
"Drive to No. 47 Rue du Lys, in the Valmont district," I said to the driver.
The Valmont district was known for its elegance, luxury, and discreet wealth. Our house there was always so peaceful—ivy climbing its walls, the sun warming the stone, and a vintage brass knocker shaped like a lion's head. It was home to me.
I looked out the window, replaying everything that had happened yesterday. So, it wasn't a dream. Tears rolled down my cheeks.
I stepped out of the cab and handed the driver the only money I had. I was lucky to even have that with me.
I made my way to the house and opened the gate. As I approached the front door, two bodyguards were standing there.
"Please, ma'am, you can't go in," one of them said.
I looked at him without saying a word. Maybe he's lost it, I thought.
I ignored him and continued walking toward the door, but one of them suddenly pulled me back—hard.
"What do you think you're doing?" I said with anger. "This is my father's house. So it's my house."
"The boss ordered that no one should enter the property," he replied.
"What?" I shouted.
I didn't know what to do. I just stood there—frozen.
"Ma'am, please, you have to leave," the other bodyguard added.
Without thinking, I turned and ran to the backyard. My dad had a pool installed back there. We used to sit beside it, swimming or just talking—mostly about my mother. I lost her when I was fifteen. She died of cancer.
I ran to the back door and began knocking—hard, over and over. I knew the bodyguards were right behind me, but I kept banging.
The bodyguards approached me and picked me up, but then Amira came out.
"Drop her," she said.
The bodyguards dropped me.
Amira came closer and said, "What are you doing here, bitch? Get the hell out. You don't belong here."
"Amira, how could you?" I said, tears welling in my eyes. "You were like a sister to me. I loved you. Even Dad treated you like his daughter."
"What the hell is going on here?" Damian shouted from inside.
Then, suddenly, Amira threw herself into the pool on purpose.
"Please, Elena, I'm sorry for everything. Please don't kill me!" she cried, pretending to drown.
Damian rushed into the pool and pulled Amira out.
She burst into tears. "Damian, I can just leave. I hate seeing Elena like this. I don't want to hurt her. I love her—she's like a sister to me. I told you this wouldn't work," Amira said, her tone filled with sarcasm.
"My dear Amira, stop it," Damian said, holding her face. "I chose you and you alone. I love you so much, and I'm not letting you go. Remember, my lawyer brought the divorce papers—she's going to sign them. That's the end of Elena in our lives."
"Damian, I'm not going anywhere. This is my father's house!" I yelled.
"Last I checked, you handed everything over to me. I'm the rightful owner of this house, the company, and every other establishment. You don't have a say—do you hear me?" Damian snapped, holding my wrist tightly.
"Damian, you're hurting her. Let her go," Amira added, as if she cared.
"You know what, Elena? Just hold on a second. I have something for you," Damian said, with a cocky smile on his face.
He came back with the divorce papers.
"Sign these papers and get the hell out," he said, pointing at the gate.
"Elena, just sign it so we can all be at peace, okay? I hate seeing you like this. You can start over—I'm here for you," Amira said, placing a hand on my shoulder.
She turned to Damian. "Babe, maybe we can give her some money for the stress she's gone through."
I held the papers, and tears dropped onto them.
"You can cry all you want," Damian mocked. "You know what? I'll give you money. You're lucky my dear Amira is here to save your ass. Isn't she kind? After you tried to kill her."
Damian walked inside.
"Am I not lucky, Elena?" Amira mocked. "This house is mine now and there's nothing anyone can do about it. Plus, I have Damian all to myself. He loves me. You're such an unlucky bitch. A loser. An ugly bitch. You always acted like you owned me—but look who's unfortunate now. You have nothing, witch. Go sleep around with men for money—if they'll even look at you."
"You just look like a witch. No one can stand you. You'll end up in the streets. But maybe I'll help… by giving you my leftovers," she added, her face twisted with hatred.
Then Damian returned with a check. Amira immediately changed her tone and tried to console me, just to look like a good person in Damian's presence.
"You can take this check. It might help," Damian said, looking into my face with so much hatred, his mocking smile burning into me. I could feel it—deep in my bones.
I melted. I just stood there, like a fool. How didn't I see all of this all this while?
I have to sign this and leave, I told myself. I can stay at Aunt Vivian's house. I can't stay here while these two keep insulting me.
I reached for the pen.
"Someone's finally thinking straight," Damian said.
I signed the papers. I was about to leave when Amira said, "You're forgetting something."
She handed me the check. I looked down at it—it was for one million dollars.
Without a word, I turned to both of them, tore the check in half, and threw the pieces.
Amira smiled. "Is the money too little? Damian, I think you should make it two million," she said with cruel sarcasm.
"I don't need your money, okay? I'm just going to leave," I said, my voice shaking. I didn't know what else to say. I was too speechless, too broken.
I staggered out, knowing I had lost everything—even the house I once called home, where every corner held memories of my late parents. My dad trusted me with his company… and I failed him.
The man I loved left me for my best friend—the woman I also loved like a sister.
And this scar on my face… What was left of me?
I am just worthless.
I ran toward the gate, not caring about the road, not caring if a vehicle was coming. I didn't care if I lived or died.
A car nearly hit me.
It didn't.
But I collapsed to the ground anyway.
I just sat down in the middle of the road, sobbing like a little child who had just been scolded.
Then I heard a familiar voice.
"Elena… Elena!"
I turned to look.
Behold—it was my betrothed, Sebastian Thorne.
He rushed over, helped me to my feet, and gently supported me into his car.
We sat quietly. Neither of us said a word.
Then, turning to his driver, he said politely, "Could you please give us a moment?"
His driver left the car.
He started, "What happened? Why are you like this? Is someone after you? What about your husband?"
"No… no, everything is fine. I am okay," I lied.
"Elena, you can't lie to me. I know we didn't work out, but I know you well. What's going on?" he asked.
I burst into tears.
"I am not okay, Sebastian.
I was just betrayed by my husband and Amira. They've taken everything. I have nothing left," I said, crying so hard I could barely breathe.
Sebastian held me and hugged me tightly.
"Everything will be fine. I am here for you, okay? I will help you," he said, consoling me.
Sebastian handed me his handkerchief.
I dried my tears and told him everything that had happened, in detail.
Sebastian Thorne is a well-known and successful lawyer. Intelligent, calm, and caring—every woman's dream.
Tall and broad-shouldered, he carries himself with quiet confidence.
He's always dressed in a tailored suit that makes him stand out as a lawyer.
His voice is calm, with a tone that can either comfort or command a room.
"I never apologized to you… you know that," I said to him. "I was so foolish, leaving you at the altar. I should've come clean before the wedding was even planned."
"Hey, it wasn't your fault. You were in love," he said gently.
"And honestly, I should've seen it sooner. I noticed you were seeing someone, but… we were betrothed, and I held on to that. I just wanted you to be happy, Elena."
He grabbed my hand.
"I'm sorry, Sebastian. For everything," I said, my voice breaking.
"It's fine," he replied with a soft smile. "Let's get you to your aunt's place."