From Scorned Wife to Ship's Queen

1

Andrew Miller asked for a divorce the moment his mentor's daughter confirmed her pregnancy.

"Her reputation matters, Elle," he'd said, his voice flat, devoid of real apology. "It's just for show, don't overthink it."

Even our son, Jack, chimed in, echoing his father's words with a saccharine sweetness that grated on my nerves. "You always talk about gratitude, Mom. Besides, it's Dad's child. Don't make things harder for him."

Everyone braced themselves for a screaming match, for tears, for the inevitable outburst. But I just nodded, a silent, hollow acceptance.

I signed the papers without a fuss and, just as swiftly, married Tim Thorne, the man who had saved my life years ago.

Because in my past life, when I clung desperately to the marriage, refusing to let go, Andrew and Jack simply abandoned me, vanishing without a trace. I became the city's laughingstock, a shell of my former self, never truly recovering.

So this time, I accepted the divorce with a quiet resolve and simply disappeared from their lives.

Six years later, at an exclusive, high-society gala aboard a luxury cruise ship.

Andrew and Jack, his son, elbowed their way through the swirling dancers, grabbing my wrist with a furious grip. "I said it was just for show, Elle! Where the hell have you been all these years?!"

I was taken aback, but only for a split second. A split second later, my sweet little girl, a bundle of sunshine, tumbled into my arms. "Mommy, who are you talking to? Daddy's looking for you!"

When I saw Andrew again, I was on the ship's deck, nursing a drink, clad in a sleek, silk mermaid gown. I'd been up until dawn working on designs and hadn't wanted to show my face, but as the wife of the cruise line's owner, I had no choice but to attend.

I sighed, my glass still mid-air, when abrupt footsteps pounded behind me. The next thing I knew, I was spun around, caught in an unexpected grip.

Both Andrew and I froze. His pupils contracted, his voice a strangled gasp of disbelief: "Eleanor! It really is you! Where have you been all this time?!"

My expression remained calm, but before I could answer, Tiffany Hayes, standing beside him, shrieked, her voice dripping with feigned concern: "Elle, darling, you're so thin now! I remember when you were too self-conscious to even show your face!"

Jack snickered, a childish, cruel sound. He'd shot up quite a bit in the years since I'd seen him, but the arrogant smirk on his face was a carbon copy of Tiffany's. He'd clearly caught Tiffany's subtle jab, and a mocking smile played on his lips. "Aunt Tiffany, stop it. You know Mom's got a thin skin. She'll be crying any minute. What's the point? You're not exactly model material anyway."

Jack's tone was thick with disdain, exactly as it had been every time he'd mocked me in the past. Mocking my weight, my intelligence, and the fact that I was "just a housewife" with "no personal appeal."

But before our marriage, I was a rising star, a celebrated talent in the fashion world. Major fashion...