Chapter 13

Grace quickly pulled up the clip, tapped it hard with her finger, and hit send. In less than thirty minutes, the hashtag #RookieActressGraceHowardSlapsElsieClarkeOnSet shot straight up the trending list. Eric rushed to the CEO’s office, tablet in hand, and knocked on the door. “Mr. Harding, should we suppress the trending search?” In the video, Elsie took three direct slaps. Her cheek was visibly swollen. Seeing William’s darkened face, Eric could already tell suppressing the buzz wasn’t gonna happen. Still, as his assistant, he had to at least try, “From a business standpoint, Miss Howard just signed with Central Entertainment. Any scandal now isn’t good for us. And personally speaking, she was once your arranged fiancée. Plus, her father, Ethan Howard, from South Howard, won’t be happy.” He paused before adding, “Not to mention, you already made the Howard family take a three-hundred-million hit for your wife...” William tapped his finger lightly on the desk. Hearing “fiancée” made his expression even colder. “No need to suppress it.” He looked up, his voice carrying a trace of indulgence. “Tell PR to keep buying traffic. Nothing moves until Elsie decides she’s done being mad.” After Eric tried every argument he could think of: “...Got it.” For the next three hours, the internet went wild. Grace’s Twitter was flooded with angry comments. The heat didn’t stop—people even dug into her family history and unearthed decades-old scandals. Meanwhile, Elsie, who barely touched social media, was completely out of the loop until Olivia showed her. Elsie was confused and a little surprised. Confused because neither she nor Olivia had shared the clip. Surprised that William let Grace get wrecked online without stepping in. But she didn’t dwell on it too much. She spent the whole afternoon at the set with ice packs pressed against her cheek. By the end, everything was numb, and that burning pain finally eased a little. When she got home and stepped through the door, the smell of real cooking hit her—warm, savory, unmistakably homemade. It caught her off guard. Lisa Smith usually just threw together sandwiches or quick Western meals. But tonight? There were actual cooked dishes on the table—sizzling, fragrant, fresh off the stove. “You’re back, Mrs. Harding?” Lisa greeted her with a warm smile, taking the bag from her hands. “I made your favorite—go freshen up, dinner’s ready.” Elsie froze. Lisa almost never called her that when William wasn’t around. It was usually “Ms. Clarke,” or nothing at all. The sudden politeness felt kind of… odd. Watching Lisa bustling around, Elsie suddenly remembered the warm cup of cold medicine she’d made her before. A wave of mixed emotions rushed over her. Even a housekeeper she’s lived with for years could eventually drop the prejudice and treat her a little better. Not like before—so sharp and distant. Then why was it that no matter how long she'd been with William, he never softened toward her—not even once? At the dinner table, everything tasted bland in her mouth. Maybe… it’s really not worth caring about someone who clearly doesn’t give a damn about you. Just like he never bothered showing her even the slightest bit of warmth. Late at night. Elsie tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep. Maybe it was the sting on her face. Or maybe Lisa’s sudden kindness triggered some bottled-up feelings she’d buried for too long. That frustration, that bitterness—it all came rushing in like a flood. So she gave up, got changed, and headed to a bar. Even if she was just looking to drink alone, she still wore a mask and sunglasses. She’d carefully chosen the place too. It looked classy, discreet—just happened to be near that exclusive club William once made her deliver stuff to. Elsie found herself a quiet corner to sit in. One glass after another of the burning liquid slid down her throat, scorching her insides, but dulling the pain lodged in her chest—at least for now. Lucas had just seen off a client when he noticed her sitting alone. He blinked, surprised. Without a second thought, he snapped a photo of her drinking by herself and sent it to William with a teasing message: “Y’all divorced that fast? Your wife’s over here drowning her sorrows at my bar.” Not even a minute later, William’s call came in. “Watch her. I’m on my way.” Click. The line went dead. Lucas raised a brow. Weren’t they at odds? Why’d he sound so damn anxious? He couldn’t figure William out, so all he could do was instruct a bodyguard to keep an eye on Elsie and make sure no one bothered her. By the time William arrived, Elsie was completely out of it. He walked up, shot a cold glance at Lucas. “You just let her drink herself like that?” Lucas looked innocent. “You just said to keep an eye on her. Didn’t say to stop her from drinking.” William didn’t respond, just bent over and scooped Elsie up. She was shockingly light—too light. Holding her, he suddenly felt uneasy, his arms tightening around her without even realizing it. He settled her into the car, fastened her seatbelt, but just as he leaned back, something heavy dropped against his neck. Looking down, he saw Elsie had her arms around him, her eyes half-open, blinking slowly like she was trying to figure out who he was. “You… after all this time, you finally came to see me?” Her voice was thick with tears, and something inside William softened. “We just met this afternoon on set…” But halfway through, his words stalled. That wasn’t meant for him. She thought he was Liam. Jealousy lit up inside him, a slow, searing burn that spread through his chest. He grabbed her chin involuntarily, forcing her to look at him. “He left for three years and you still miss him that much?” Three years. Elsie stared at him, tears brimming. She’d spent weeks blowing up Eric’s phone, trying to reach William. Now, finally, he showed up… He hadn’t the faintest clue what those three years were like for her. “I missed you so much. Can’t you feel how much I love you? “If you didn’t care, why be so nice to me? But if you did… then why push me away?” Her tears soaked through his shirt, voice choking with heartache and confusion. Staring at her tear-streaked face, something twisted in William’s chest. Bitterness, regret, he couldn't even tell anymore. He remembered hearing her confess her love to Liam three years ago with his own ears. That was all he could stand; he left, not knowing what came next. Now it seemed Liam turned her down—and in desperation, she made a mistake… landed in the wrong bed. Married to someone she didn’t love. Playing the role of a devoted wife. Must’ve been hell for her. “Liam liked you too,” William muttered, voice dry and painfully quiet. “Otherwise, he wouldn't have agreed to marry you back then.” “Ten days from now,” he continued, looking away, “you’ll be free to go find him.” The words “ten days” must’ve triggered something. Elsie’s brows furrowed deeper, tears spilling faster. She shoved him back, slurring, “I don’t want that… I really can’t stand you, William…” And with that, her head lolled to the side, knocked out cold. The car fell into silence. William sat there, frozen, feeling like something heavy had wedged itself in his chest, leaving him breathless.