Chapter 4

It was still early, barely nine, and because it was Saturday, the roads were a bit congested. Still, she felt free and she headed from the relative tranquility of Chicago, one of the wealthiest and most beautiful cities in the Country, toward the metropolis.

Usually she would go and spend the day with Ryan and Nadia...but she knew that it was the first place Romano would look.

Romano knew how limited her social life was. Eliza had never made friends easily; her father had kept her isolated throughout her childhood, and her only real friend growing up had been her cousin Nadia.

Her family had founded one of the first banks in the country in the 1800s and had always been leaders in the rarefied reaches of society. Victor Harrington maintained that someone of Eliza’s "breeding and background" shouldn't be allowed to mingle with just anybody, which had left her options for companionship severely limited.

She had grown up playing by herself, with Nadia, or—when her father wasn't around to see—with the housekeeper's children.

The loneliness and isolation had carried over into her adulthood and even now, she spent most of her free time with Ryan and Nadia or learning new recipes from Emilia, her housekeeper.

She spent more time chatting with Emilia than she did speaking with her husband. The loneliness was a cycle that Eliza didn't know how to break.

After driving for several miles, she saw a likely sign, finding a parking space within easy walking distance, not that she objected to exercise.

It was just that his knees felt strangely weak…

Perhaps anyone going into the battle of their lives experienced the same sensation.

Upon entering the foyer of the office, he walked up to the desk where a motherly looking woman sat, a headset clamped to her white hair.

"May I help you?" The woman's eyes were anything but motherly, summing Eliza up in a quick glance.

"This is a divorce lawyer's office?" The 'd' word tasted foul on her tongue, but she spat it out.

"Divorce and family law."

"I'm only interested in the former." She amazed herself with how crisp and confident she sounded.

Determined.

Head tilting to the side, the speculative glint increased in the other woman's eyes.

"Mr. Harper is in his office, pls follow me.."

The lawyer rose to a crouch behind his desk when she entered his office, and the receptionist shut the door firmly behind her.

He offered his hand. "I'm Steven Harper. Nice to see you again, Eliza." he said smiling.

Steven and Eliza had been good friends in university and the familiarity calmed her a bit.

"I'm here to get a divorce." Eliza said.

Steven blinked. "I see, straight to business, Eliza." He said, chuckling.

Eliza smiled sheepishly.

"As soon as possible," she added, and Steven nodded understandingly.

Pulling a legal pad toward Eliza, he asked for identifying information, jotting it down.

"May I ask what grounds you are basing your request upon?"

"Irreconcilable differences." Eliza heard that on a legal show and knew it applied.

"I see." Steven paused, then asked delicately,

"Was there ... abuse involved?"

"What? Abuse? Oh, no. Nothing like that." Romano never raised a hand to her but how does one describe callous neglect?

Though she supposed Romano’s words were abusive, they were used like weapons. But that didn't matter anymore, being in the past.

"I ... we simply don't get along, have nothing in common."

"Any children?"

"No." Eliza swallowed. "No."

"What have you considered for financial support? I know your husband's name. He's a wealthy man. We should work out alimony per month or as a lump sum—"

”I don't want anything from him." Eliza didn't need it.

Didn't want anything from Romano aside from the one thing he would never give her.

The stress of not thinking about Romano all day, rose up and smacked her in the face.

"Liz?" Steven got up and rushed around his desk when she put her hand over her mouth, willing her stomach not to revolt.

Eliza had to stop losing her sh*t like this.

Waving Steven away, she fished in her purse and powered on her phone.

"I'm fine. Long day, and this is ... difficult."

"Of course." Steven returned to his seat and took up his pen.

"You're financially stable, then?"

"I am." Her mother had seen to that, undermining her father at the last. She had a small trust fund under her maiden name.

Eliza would never be rich but could live comfortably, if simply, and planned to find a job in any event.

"I'll have no problem covering your fees."

"Don't worry about that liz, we can discuss that later"

Eliza nodded.

"A divorce can be quite simple as long as your husband doesn't demur." Steven said speculatively.

"He won't." Eliza could envision Romano punching the air with glee, right before he informs her father that Eliza had once again met all wrong expectations.

Romano could legally take up with one of those models he normally roamed with, without any censure, not that her father had taken any issue.

If her mother had lived, would Eliza have made the same mistake, or would Mom have cautioned her, having chosen an unavailable man herself? And a cheater too.

Steven had outlined a process that should free her from this marital prison within the space of several months and she listened numbly, she took the page scribbled with notes in both their hand writings, and tucked it in her purse, for her own research.

Steven named a figure she barely raised an eyebrow at, Eliza knew she had got an appropriate discount and Steven had decided against pointing it out, but it was still a handsome amount of money.

Freedom at any price.

Eliza wouldn't use Romano’s card—it was childish to use his account to pay Steven, even if satisfying—she'd pay for her own divorce.

She would write a check from the slender stack she kept tucked in her wallet.

Romano was indeed a wealthy man, and he probably didn't even know about her small trust fund.

They'd built nothing together since their marriage—that house wasn't even on her radar—and Romano had no claim to her money as she wouldn't have on Romano’s.

While the receptionist prepared an invoice and receipt, Eliza went to her contacts to call Nadia, stilling when she noted the number of missed calls and texts.

One was from her father, but the majority from Romano, Eliza, decided to ignore them fearing what they held.

Honestly confused, then worried, she blinked and scrolled through the rest.

Her father's message was disgruntled and peremptory.

I expect you to call your husband.

A wave of relief made her belly hollow. Her father was her only surviving relation, except Nadia, if one didn't count some distant cousins, and she didn't, but obviously, Romano’s calls weren't related to something going wrong with her dad.

She dialed her voicemail and nearly dropped the phone at the tirades of messages.

Romano never phoned her. She might receive a brief text if it was compulsory for her to accompany him to an event that required his actual Omega on his arm.

But she had never heard his voice on the line since the period of time when they ...Courted.

The last call advised her Romano was notifying the police and she fumbled to a chair in the waiting room.

The cell chimed and he squeaked before he recognized the name.

"Hello, Nadia."

"Good grief, Liz. I get off work and my phone lights up. That husband of yours wants to know where you are."

Romano had called Nadia? Eliza would have doubted Romano even had her cousin's phone number but then again they were in business together, sort of.

"I had my phone turned off”

"And you're surprised he called." Nadia didn't know the fullness of her humiliation but was aware she wasn't happy.

It was impossible to hide her feelings from Nadia, but she hadn't revealed all her shame.

"I am. I was also at a lawyer's office. I'm still there. Here."

Seconds ticked by, and Eliza felt them pulse in her temples until Nadia asked, "Does he know about the lawyer?"

"Not yet."

"We should get some dinner."

How like Nadia not to interrogate her over the phone.

"I'd like that."

Now she found herself contemplating all the things she could do with this unexpected time and freedom and opted for the most out-of-character thing she could think of: going to the movies.

It was the purest form of escapism, and if there was anything that Eliza desperately wanted, it was to escape from her life.

So she spent her day going from one cinema to the next— laughing, crying, cringing, or jumping, depending on the plot. It was the most unproductive day she had ever spent in her life and she loved it.