Neglected Wife's Bitter Sweet Revenge
Chapter 10: I Took Back Everything He Stole From Me
814 words·4 min read
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Elinor Frost POV:
Six months later.
The divorce papers sat framed inside a drawer in my office.
Not because I missed the marriage.
Because they reminded me that survival was possible.
That freedom was possible.
That even after losing everything, a person could still rebuild.
The morning sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Frost Music Publishing.
My company.
My father's legacy.
My future.
I stood in the center of the office, staring at the first official release of Elias Frost's songbook.
The same songbook Braden had used to control me.
The same songbook Harmon Records had hidden for years.
The same dream my father never lived long enough to see.
Now it belonged where it always should have belonged.
With me.
The launch had exceeded every expectation.
Music critics praised the collection.
Streaming platforms featured it.
Artists from around the world requested licensing rights.
My father's work was finally being heard.
And for the first time since his death, I felt like I had kept my promise to him.
"Miss Frost?"
My assistant appeared at the door.
"The investors are waiting."
"I'll be there in a minute."
She nodded and left.
Miss Frost.
Not Mrs. Harmon.
Not Braden's wife.
Just Elinor Frost.
The name felt right.
A soft knock interrupted my thoughts.
Guy stepped inside.
"You ready?"
I smiled.
"For once, yes."
"Dad would be proud."
My eyes filled with tears.
"I hope so."
"He would."
Guy handed me a small envelope.
"This came for you."
I looked down.
No return address.
I already knew.
Braden.
"You don't have to read it," Guy said.
"I know."
But curiosity won.
Slowly, I opened the envelope.
Inside was a handwritten letter.
The handwriting was unmistakable.
"Elinor,"
"I know I don't deserve your forgiveness."
"I know I don't deserve your time."
"But I need you to know there isn't a day that passes where I don't think about what I destroyed."
"The baby."
"Our marriage."
"You."
"I spent years blaming everyone else for my choices."
"My grandfather."
"My career."
"My circumstances."
"But the truth is simple."
"I hurt you because I was selfish."
"And by the time I realized what you meant to me, it was too late."
"I hope one day you find happiness."
"Even if it isn't with me."
"Braden."
The letter ended there.
No excuses.
No manipulation.
No demands.
Just regret.
Years too late.
I folded the letter carefully.
"How is he?" I asked.
Guy looked surprised.
"Honestly?"
"Yes."
"Miserable."
A sad smile touched my lips.
"I figured."
"He sold his shares in Harmon Records."
"Really?"
"Most of them."
"Why?"
"Nobody knows."
I did.
The company had been worth more to him than anything once.
Now it probably reminded him of everything he lost.
"And Destany?"
"Criminal charges are still pending."
"I see."
There was no satisfaction in hearing it.
Only distance.
The anger had faded months ago.
The hatred too.
All that remained was acceptance.
"You okay?" Guy asked.
I looked around my office.
The framed songbook.
The contracts.
The future waiting outside the door.
Then I looked down at the scar on my wrist from the fall.
A permanent reminder.
A wound that would never fully disappear.
The baby was still gone.
That pain would always stay with me.
Some losses never truly healed.
You simply learned how to carry them.
"I'm getting there," I said honestly.
Guy nodded.
"That's enough."
After he left, I walked toward the window.
The city stretched endlessly below.
Busy.
Alive.
Full of possibilities.
Months ago I thought my life had ended.
I thought losing Braden would destroy me.
Then I thought losing my baby would destroy me.
Instead, both tragedies had forced me to discover something important.
My strength.
I had spent years defining myself through other people.
Through my father.
Through Braden.
Through the marriage.
Through sacrifice.
Now I was learning who Elinor Frost really was.
Not someone's daughter.
Not someone's wife.
Just me.
The office phone buzzed.
"Miss Frost, the investors are ready."
"Thank you. I'll be right there."
I took one final look at the city.
Then my gaze landed on a framed photograph sitting on my desk.
Not Braden.
Not my wedding.
My father.
Smiling beside an old piano.
The same smile I remembered from childhood.
"We did it, Dad," I whispered.
"Your music is finally free."
A strange peace settled over me.
The kind of peace that comes only after surviving a storm.
Not happiness.
Not yet.
But hope.
Real hope.
I picked up the first published copy of Elias Frost's songbook and headed for the door.
My past remained behind me.
My future waited ahead.
And this time, I wasn't following anyone else's path.
I was creating my own.
As the office doors opened and sunlight flooded the hallway, I stepped forward without hesitation.
Without fear.
Without regret.
And for the first time in years, I truly felt free.
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