Chapter 7
"Are you all plotting against me?" Samuel's eyes surged with pained disbelief, his voice grinding through clenched teeth. "Ellen, do you hate me that much?"
The steward slid a document toward him. "Sign it, and I'll let you go."
Samuel's eyes scanned the divorce agreement, which left him with nothing.
His head snapped up, eyes red. "You're really going this far? Just because of one kidnapping, you're destroying everything between us?"
He spat the words through gritted teeth, a flicker of emotion he hadn't noticed himself.
He refused to believe Ellen would truly harm him.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Three gunshots rang out—one hit Samuel's leg, two struck Rosalyn.
Reality shattered his arrogance.
As Rosalyn collapsed, Samuel's pupils shrank, but he couldn't tear his eyes from Ellen's calm, gun-wielding profile.
Her cold, unfamiliar expression sent a suffocating pang through his chest.
The steward tossed a phone toward him, voice dripping with mockery. "Mr. Howard, we should thank your mistress for orchestrating this kidnapping. It gave us the opportunity."
"Shut up!" Samuel barked, his gaze still locked on Ellen, searching for a hint of hesitation.
He grabbed the phone.
Rosalyn screamed, "Don't look!"
Too late. The evidence lay bare before everyone.
Samuel whipped his head around, his glare like icy daggers piercing Rosalyn. "You orchestrated Ellen's kidnapping?"
The chill in his voice made Rosalyn feel like she'd been plunged into ice.
"I… I didn't, sir, you have to believe me…" Rosalyn, wincing in pain, reached for him, but Samuel flung her hand away.
Ellen's icy voice cut through again, laced with lethal threat. "If you don't sign, you'll miss the contract signing, and your losses will be far greater than this."
Her gun slowly rose, aiming at Rosalyn's forehead. "Not to mention, the lives of your little family of four are in my hands."
"Family of four."
The words stabbed Samuel's heart like needles.
He looked up sharply, staring at Ellen with an intensity so complex it startled him— a fear of losing something he couldn't name.
His chest heaved violently.
Finally, his head dropped, and with trembling hands, he signed. "…I'll sign."
Ellen took the agreement, turned, and walked away without a trace of lingering attachment.
"Oh, I forgot to mention," she said lightly. "The news issued a weather warning today—no flights allowed. You won't make it back for the signing. Good luck."
Her casual words hit like a final thunderbolt.
"Ellen!" Samuel roared, lunging forward instinctively, but the steward knocked him out cold from behind.
In the last second before darkness claimed him, he saw only her resolute back, never turning.
Behind him, the children wailed.
But none of it could make her glance back.
She was truly done with him.
...
Ellen returned to Floren, to the royal castle, unchanged as if she'd never left.
She opened a private art gallery, displaying all her paintings from recent years.
Not only the exhibited works but also the wall decorations were her creations.
Sunlight streamed in, blending with the paintings, creating a dreamlike glow.
The gallery bustled daily with visitors buying her art.
Ellen gradually forgot her past sorrows.
The door swung open again, and she looked up.
A pair of warm, affectionate eyes met hers, tinged with exasperation.
"Why are you here again?"
The man, dressed in a white suit, radiated elegance, like a prince under the sunlight.
He looked at Ellen, his eyes brimming with tenderness. "I'm here for a date."
Ellen shook her head, even more exasperated. "I already told my mother I'm not ready to date. You don't need to…"
His gaze grew warmer, and he bowed slightly in a princely gesture. "If dating's off the table, can I court you instead, Your Highness?"
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