To Love a Shadow, To Be the Sun novel Chapter 165

Her words stabbed into Brian's chest like a dagger.

He couldn't find an answer; grief and confusion twisted across his face.

For a long moment, all he managed was her name, barely above a whisper. "Elara…"

"Don't call me that!"

Elara yanked up her shirt, revealing a web of angry scars across her abdomen.

"I'm flesh and blood, Brian. I hurt every time you hurt me. Can't you just let me go, after everything I've endured for you? After all these scars I carry because of you, can't you grant me a divorce and let me have my life back?"

Any protest Brian could muster shriveled and died in the face of those scars, snaking like brittle branches over her skin.

He reached out, desperate to pull her into his arms, but his phone rang sharply, slicing through the moment.

It was Yves Caldwell.

"Mr. Vincent, Miss Winters is having another depressive episode. She refuses treatment and hasn't eaten in three days. The psychiatrist is at a loss. I'm afraid only you can help. You should come to the hospital."

The pain in Brian's eyes vanished in an instant, replaced by a dark, swirling determination.

"If she insists on seeing me…then let her wait."

He ended the call, then turned to Elara, a note of finality in his voice. "Wait until I sort this out. Then you can decide if you still want the divorce."

A headache throbbed behind Elara's eyes.

She'd already exposed his scandal with his stepsister, cut off his company's most lucrative deals—how could he still believe there was anything left to salvage between them?

After a pause, she picked up her phone and dialed, not caring what time it was.

It rang for ages before Summer answered, groggy. "Still not out of the hospital? Is your insomnia getting worse?"

"Draft another statement," Elara said. "Any company doing business with SiliconCrest Group—we won't consider partnering with them. Not one."

Summer perked up instantly. "Girl, you're really going for the jugular this time!"

Without looking at her stunned expression, Brian turned and walked out.

Nanette entered, surprised. "That was quick. Is it true? Has Elara really pushed him to the edge—are they finally getting divorced?"

Lina's sickly expression slipped away. "Divorce? Elara's won. We're finished."

"What?" Nanette was floored.

"This is your fault," Lina snapped. "You never could hold your own against Elara, could you? You were never fit to be Mrs. Vincent. Now Brian's cut us off; you won't get another cent from him, and I'm being packed off too. Your treatment's over. Go home and wait for the end."

"No! That can't be!" Nanette's voice shook with terror.

Despite her illness being terminal, she'd spent every last scrap of energy flying in specialists from across the country and overseas, hunting down the latest miracle drugs at any cost.

Money was never an issue—not with Brian footing the bills.

Lina looked at her mother, her gaze sharp and knowing. "Now it's up to Elara whether you live or die. Use your head, Mom. Sparring with her gets you nowhere. If you keep acting out of impulse, you'll only hand her the advantage."