Elena's POV
I woke up to a soft knock on the door.
For a moment, I didn't move. I just lay there in the half-light of morning, trying to remember what day it was… what life I was living now.
Another knock, slightly firmer.
"Elena," the butler's voice filtered in through the door. "Mr. Shawn asked me to inform you that breakfast is ready and he'd like you to join him downstairs."
"Okay, tell him I'll be with him shortly" I replied
I sat up slowly, the weight of the previous day still clinging to me like a second skin.
He wanted me at breakfast? After everything? After silence and dismissal, after how he spoke harshly to me, how he told me he didn't need me, now he wanted to eat with me?
I swung my legs out of bed and padded toward the mirror to see how I was looking.
My reflection stared back at me: slightly swollen eyes, hair a tangled mess, emotions buried just beneath the surface.
I freshened up, ran a brush through my hair, and changed into something simple but elegant. A soft beige blouse and matching pants. Nothing too fancy. Nothing that screamed trophy wife.
I stood in front of the mirror and let out a breath.
"You've got this," I whispered to myself, even if I didn't quite believe it.
Downstairs, the house was quiet.
The dining table was already set. And he was already there.
Justin.Perfect posture. Crisp white shirt. Cold expression.
He didn't look up when I walked in.
I sat across from him, the silence between us louder than any words.
The butler came and poured juice into a glass beside my plate. I picked at my food because of the awkward silence between us.
I don't know why I did it maybe I was trying to fill the silence, or maybe I just wanted to see how far he would go but the words slipped out of my mouth before I could stop them.
"I want to work."
Justin froze.
He put down his glass slowly, then looked at me for the first time since I came to the dining room as if I had said something completely foreign.
"Excuse me?"
I cleared my throat. "I said… I want to work. I want to do something with my time. Maybe volunteer, maybe get a part-time job. I studied accounting"
He cut me off with a sharp wave of his hand. "Absolutely not."
I blinked. "What do you mean 'not'?"
"I mean," he said, his voice cool and firm, "you are Mrs. Shawn. My wife. My trophy wife. People don't need to see you slaving at some desk or showing up at local shops like some... regular woman."
His words slammed into me like cold water.
"You think I'm supposed to just sit here? Look pretty? Smile for the cameras while you live your life?"
"Yes," he said, unapologetically. "That's exactly what I expect. I married me, not the other way around.You knew what this was."
"No," I whispered, rising from my seat. "No, Justin. I thought I knew. But every day you make it harder to remember why I even agreed."
"You did not have a choice, remember" he said again.
He didn't move. Just looking at me with his normal cold demeanor.
That expression that infuriating, cold indifference stayed fixed on his face like a mask.
I turned, walked away from the table. Marched up the stairs, every step fueled by boiling anger.
He didn't want me to work?
Fine.
But he didn't get to control me, either.
I grabbed my handbag, threw in my phone and a few essentials, and walked right back downstairs. I passed the dining table on purpose, daring him to stop me.
He didn't.
He didn't even flinch.
I paused for a heartbeat, my hand trembling on the doorknob.
He just kept eating, like none of this mattered.
And maybe to him, it didn't.
But to me?
It meant everything.
The door slammed behind me, the sound echoing through the quiet street.
I texted Naomi before I lost my nerve.
"Are you home?"
She replied instantly.
"Yes. I'm at home. You want to come??. What happened???"
The driver eyed me curiously, but didn't say a word as I gave him Naomi's address.
The drive was quiet. My mind replaying every word he said at the table.
Trophy wife.
Don't need to work.
You knew what this was.
Naomi's apartment was cozy and warm. She pulled the door open before I even knocked.
"Elena!" she gasped, pulling me into a hug. "What happened? You look like you're about to explode."
I stepped inside, and suddenly, everything spilled out of me the breakfast, the argument, the way he shut me down like my voice didn't matter.
Naomi listened, eyes wide, arms crossed.
"He's insane," she muttered when I was done. "He really told you that? Like he owns you?"
I nodded, my jaw clenched.
She paced. "Okay, first of all you are not a trophy wife. You're brilliant. And even if you weren't, no one gets to put you on a shelf and tell you to look pretty. What is this, the 1800s?"
I couldn't help but smile, just a little.
Naomi always had that effect on me. Fierce, loyal, and full of fight.
She grabbed my hand and pulled me to the couch.
"You need a plan," she said. "Not to rebel. Just… to take back your space. make your voice Make some money to pay him back and stop all these rubbish you deserve to be seen, Elena. Not just dressed up for a photo op."
I sank into the couch, exhaustion starting to creep in.
"But how?" I asked. "He controls everything. The staff, the press… even my schedule."
"Start small," she said. "Take an online course. Talk to your old professors. Rebuild your resume. Whatever you do, don't sit still just because he told you to."
I exhaled slowly.
Her words were the lifeline I didn't know I needed.
"I just wanted to help him," I whispered. "To support him. And he made me feel like a fool for even trying."
Naomi squeezed my hand. "Then stop helping him for now. Help yourself. He'll either come around or he won't. But at least you'll have you."
I stayed at Naomi's for the rest of the day We watched movies, ordered food, and laughed real laughter. The kind I hadn't felt in weeks.
By evening, my phone was still silent.
No calls from Justin.
No messages.
And for once… I didn't check it twice.
Because tonight, I wasn't going to wait.
Tonight, I was going to start fighting for myself.
Even if I had to do it without him.