Elaine drifted in and out of consciousness, and through the haze, she heard Marcellus whispering her name. His voice was raw, trembling at the edges.

"Elaine, wake up. Please."

"You wanted the kids, didn't you? I'll let you see Maisie and Zeke. Just wake up... I’m begging you."

She must have been hallucinating. Marcellus didn't talk like that.

She shifted, and the movement pulled at her stitches, a searing jolt of pain forcing a sharp intake of breath.

"Easy, child, don't move." Greta Spencer pressed a hand to her shoulder, her eyes shimmering with sympathy. "You’ve been through hell. I’ll make sure Marcellus pays for this."

Elaine parted her cracked lips, her voice sounding like grinding sandpaper. "I don’t want compensation. If he really wants to make it up to me, tell him to sign the divorce papers."

Greta sighed, her expression darkening. "I understand. With Marcellus’s temperament, he won’t do it willingly... but don’t worry. Leave it to me."

"Sign what?"

The door creaked open. Marcellus strode in, his eyes lighting up when he saw she was conscious. He dove toward the bed, grabbing her hand in a crushing, desperate grip. "How are you feeling? Does anything hurt?"

His hair was a disaster, and his eyes were rimmed with dark, heavy bruising. His tone was frantic, completely stripped of his usual cold, calculated elegance.

Elaine bit her lip, pulling her hand away with a violent tug. "I'm fine."

Marcellus stiffened, a flicker of raw annoyance crossing his face. "I didn't mean to use you as a human shield. I just... I panicked." He softened his tone, trying to coax her. "What do you want? I'll make it right. Don't be like this."

"Don't bother," Elaine interrupted, her voice hollow. "I know exactly where I stand."

She’d asked him why she was sacrificed before she’d blacked out, but that had just been an instinctive reaction. In her heart, she’d known the answer for years.

Seeing her apathy, a frantic, irrational panic clawed at Marcellus. Elaine was isolated, trapped in the Spencer estate, and she had always depended on him. She used to pick fights, and whenever she felt cornered, she’d use the kids as leverage. But now? After he’d shoved her into the line of fire, she hadn't said a word.

Marcellus shoved down the rising dread in his chest. "Your place is by my side as my wife. You saved Morgan, and I expect you to stop acting out against her. She’s willing to get along if you are."

Elaine didn't say a word. She simply pulled the duvet over her head.

Marcellus didn't force her.

For the next few days, he stayed by her side, tending to her every need with a meticulousness that was frankly terrifying. He handled everything himself—even scrubbing her clothes by hand—shedding the stature of a man who ruled a business empire. Jewelry and gifts poured into the room like a flood, all in a desperate attempt to coax a single smile from her.

Even back in the early days, before she’d given birth to Max, he had never been this attentive. For a fleeting second, Elaine almost fell for the illusion that he still loved her.

The delusion shattered the day she was discharged.

Morgan Rose was waiting at the entrance, and she dragged Max to his knees right in front of Elaine.

Elaine recoiled, her heart hammering against her ribs as if she’d seen a specter. "What are you doing? Another setup?" She stared at Morgan, eyes cold. "You already have the lion's share of the Spencer family's assets. Why can't you just leave me alone?"

A flash of pure, venomous hatred crossed Morgan’s face. She leaned in close, her voice a poisonous hiss. "As long as you're breathing, my children could be taken away. Without an heir of my own, everything I’ve built will be yours. If you want to blame someone, blame yourself for not dying in that delivery room!"

Elaine could only laugh. With Marcellus so blinded by his obsession with Morgan, how could she ever threaten her position?

Elaine tried to pull away, but Morgan clutched her wrist, forcing a struggle. In the scuffle, Elaine’s fingernails raked across Morgan’s cheek, leaving three thin, weeping red gashes.

"What do you think you're doing!"

The deep, chilling voice echoed through the hallway. Morgan’s eyes lit up with a sickening, triumphant light. She covered her face, tears welling instantly. "Marcellus, don't blame Elaine... I'm sure she didn't mean it..."

Max piped up, his voice shrill with faux-outrage. "She did! She told Mom to kneel! She hit her! Uncle, you have to do something!"

Elaine stood frozen, staring at her own son. She could handle Morgan’s lies—but to drag Max into this? To weaponize her own child against her? It was a cruelty that pierced deeper than any blade.

Marcellus narrowed his eyes, the fatigue on his face hardening into icy disappointment. "Elaine, I thought you’d finally learned your lesson. I see I was wrong."

He stepped forward, his shadow looming over her. "Go to the family chapel. You’re going to kneel there until you learn how to behave."