Not until Mrs. Hughes appeared directly in front of me.
"Sir," panic flashed across her face, her usually immaculate appearance disheveled, "Mr. Rockefeller wants to see you. He's furious."
I closed my eyes and drew a deep breath, feeling strength slowly return to my body.
Of course Grandfather would know. He liked controlling everything. Nothing happened at the manor without his knowledge.
I shoved that ice-cold divorce agreement deep into the drawer—couldn't bear to look at it again—then practically fled to Grandfather's room.
When I pushed open the door, heavy drapes blocked the light. Everything in the room appeared submerged underwater, all shapes blurred.
"Lucas, get in here."
Grandfather's voice sounded muffled and distant.
I walked forward mechanically. Grandfather sat in his wheelchair, his breathing rapid and labored. Then came the dull thud of something hitting the carpet, shattered glass catching the light—a crystal ashtray in pieces.
Grandfather started cursing me, saying I'd driven Ella away, saying he'd warned me.
His rage made him spit as he spoke: "You're going to regret this! You'll never find another woman as good as Ella!"
"Grandfather—" I croaked, my throat so dry I could barely speak. I didn't want to argue. I just wanted one answer. "Why did she leave?"
"You have the nerve to ask me?" Grandfather's cane crashed against the floor. "Everyone could see Ella genuinely loved you, but what did you treat her like? Some disposable decoration? A tool to defy me?"
His words hit me like lightning.
A nagging answer took root in my mind. Even Grandfather believed this. So when Ella signed those divorce papers, did she think the same thing?
I couldn't answer him. My thoughts were completely scrambled, voices tangling together, making my head pound. Before, I might've argued back, insisted I was right. But now, I just needed an answer. Even if Grandfather was wrong, at least he offered a possibility I'd never dared consider.
I turned and walked out. Grandfather kept shouting behind me. I couldn't hear a word.
I couldn't stay at the manor without Ella. Every inch of air seemed saturated with her presence, like an invisible net strangling me.
I drove numbly. By the time I snapped to attention, muscle memory had taken me toward the office. How pathetic. I'd left Ella, and I had nowhere else to go! I didn't care what employees who knew I'd taken extended leave would think about me suddenly showing up. Only one thought consumed me: Ella was gone. She'd abandoned me.
It happened too suddenly. According to my original plan, right now Ella and I should be sitting in first class to Reykjavik. We'd see the impossibly blue ice caves at Vatnajökull Glacier, wait for the aurora to sweep across the night sky like silk at the black sand beach, listen to the deafening roar of Seljalandsfoss...
But now those visions of our future had shattered. Among all the chaotic thoughts, only one emerged crystal clear:
I didn't want a divorce!
I never planned to separate from Ella!
No. I couldn't just sit here.
I grabbed my phone and called Ella.
It rang forever, maybe a century. Finally, I heard faint static. She'd picked up.
"Ella—"
"What do you have to say?" Her voice was ice cold, emotionless through the static.
"Ella, why do you want to divorce me?" My voice came out more agitated than I'd intended.
"Are you upset because I filed first? Is your ego that fragile?"
