He yanked it open and held it wide, his powerful frame filling the doorway like a wall I was no longer permitted to cross.
“Leave.”
The command was sharp.
Final.
Delivered with the bored authority of a man who had already erased me from any future he imagined.
I hesitated, and his voice dropped colder.
“Don’t make me repeat myself, Elena.”
“Get out.”
“The sight of you standing there pretending you could ever be the mother of my children disgusts me.”
My eyelids fluttered shut for a brief moment.
Just enough time to gather what little strength I had left.
Then I opened them again.
Slowly. Painfully.
My legs moved first.
I swung them over the side of the bed, the mattress shifting beneath me as I prepared to stand.
The moment my feet touched the floor, pain lanced upward through my knees—sharp, immediate.
A gasp escaped me before I could stop it.
My body swayed.
Instinctively, I reached out, catching myself on the bedpost as my knees threatened to collapse again.
I stood there for a moment, breathing unevenly, waiting for the wave of pain to pass enough for me to move.
Then I forced myself forward.
Step by step.
Each one deliberate.
Each one costing me more than I could explain.
My breaths came shallow.
Trying not to think about how every movement sent fire through my body, or on his words that had cut just as deeply, carving through my chest with quiet, ruthless precision.
I limped toward the open door.
“Elena.”
His voice stopped me.
I froze.
