Please Come Back, My Love Chapter 56

Elena: POV

I spent the afternoon getting ready with meticulous care. The emerald green gown from Bergdorf Goodman—the one Evelyn and Victoria had hated—hung on the back of the door, mocking me with its beauty.

*Wear it,* a defiant voice in my head whispered. *Let them see you're not afraid anymore.*

But another voice—quieter, more pragmatic—reminded me this wasn't about making a statement. This was about saying goodbye to Arthur with dignity.

I chose a different dress instead. Navy blue, knee-length, with delicate cap sleeves. Elegant but understated. I paired it with low heels and minimal jewelry—just the silver Parsons bracelet my mentor had given me years ago.

In the mirror, I looked... acceptable. Professional. Like a woman who had her shit together, even if that was the furthest thing from the truth.

My hand moved to my stomach, hidden beneath the dress's flowing fabric.

*Tonight. Just get through tonight. Then you're free.*

---

The Uber ride to Connecticut felt endless. I sat in the back seat, clutching the wrapped vest in my lap, watching the city give way to suburbs, then to the rolling hills and autumn foliage of the estate grounds.

The mansion looked exactly as I remembered—imposing, elegant, the kind of place that belonged in magazines. The place where I grew up in the servants' quarters. Where I watched Julian from afar and dreamed impossible dreams.

I took a breath and started up the steps.

That's when I heard her voice.

"Well, well. Look who decided to show up."

Catherine emerged from the shadows beside the door, champagne flute in hand, that familiar sneer on her face. She was wearing a pink cocktail dress that probably cost more than my monthly rent.

"Catherine." I kept my voice neutral. "Excuse me."

I tried to move past her, but she stepped directly into my path.

"You've got some nerve coming here after what you did to Evelyn. Do you have any idea how sick she still is?"

My jaw clenched. "I'm here to see Grandfather. Not to argue with you."

"Oh, I'm sure you are." Her smile was vicious. "Probably hoping to squeeze some sympathy money out of the old man before Julian finally dumps you."

Heat flooded my face. "Get out of my way."

"Or what?" Catherine stepped closer, her breath reeking of alcohol. "You'll push me too? Like you pushed Evelyn?"

Before I could respond, she grabbed the vest from my hands.

"What's this? A little goodbye present?" She started pulling at the tissue paper. "Let me see—"

"Give it back." I reached for it, but she held it higher, laughing.

"What's wrong? Afraid I'll ruin your pathetic little gift?"

She dangled the vest over the stone balustrade beside the entrance. "Oops. I hope this wasn't important."

I grabbed the vest from Catherine's hands before she could drop it, my fingers clutching the burgundy silk like a lifeline.

Catherine's face twisted with rage. "You little bitch—"

"That's enough." My voice came out steadier than I felt. "Whatever problem you have with me, this isn't the way to handle it."

"Isn't it?" She stepped closer, backing me against the cold stone balustrade. "You think you're so noble, don't you? Playing the perfect wife, the devoted granddaughter."

Her finger jabbed into my shoulder, hard enough to make me stumble.

"But we all know what you really are. Julian knows. Victoria knows. You're just the help who got lucky."

I opened my mouth to respond, but she wasn't done.

"You want to know something funny? Victoria and Julian arrived together today. In his Bentley. Matching outfits—navy and cream, like they planned it."

My stomach dropped, but I kept my face blank.

"They're in there right now. Drinking, laughing. His hand won't leave her waist. They look so perfect together—like a fucking magazine spread."

*Stop. Stop listening.*

"That's what a real couple looks like, Elena. Not whatever sad arrangement you and Julian have. Victoria's the one who belongs at his side."

She gestured to my navy dress with obvious disdain. "You could wear couture from head to toe, and you'd still reek of the servants' quarters. You don't belong here. You never did."

My hands tightened on the vest.

"Because she's his equal," Catherine continued, relentless. "She speaks French, she knows which fork to use, she can navigate a charity gala without embarrassing him. But you? You're just the dirty little secret he's counting down the days until he can discard."

"Are you done?" I asked quietly.

Catherine blinked, surprised by my calm.

"I asked if you're done. Because I have somewhere to be. Someone who actually wants to see me."

I stepped to the side, ready to finally walk past her—

And felt her foot hook behind my ankle.

Her hands shoved hard against my shoulders.

For one suspended moment, I felt nothing but shock. Then I was falling backward, the vest slipping from my hands, the world tilting sickeningly.

My back hit the water with brutal force, and suddenly I was under—cold, dark, suffocating. The pool swallowed me whole, and I sank.

*Can't breathe—can't see—which way is up—*

My dress billowed around me like a shroud, the heavy fabric dragging me down. I kicked frantically, my arms flailing, but I didn't know how to swim. Had never learned.

My head broke the surface for just a second. I gasped, sucking in air and water, choking on both.

"Catherine!" My voice was raw, desperate. "Help me!"

She stood at the pool's edge, arms crossed, backlit by the mansion lights. Just watching.

"Catherine!" I went under again, water flooding my nose, my mouth. My lungs burned like fire. "I can't swim!"

When I surfaced again, coughing and sputtering, she was still there. Still watching with that satisfied smile.

"Please!" I begged, my vision blurring. "Please—I'm pregnant—there's a baby—"

I saw her expression shift. Surprise flickered across her face, then something darker.

"A baby?" Her voice carried across the water, almost amused. "Julian's little bastard, growing in the housekeeper's daughter. How tragic."

"Please—" My head went under again. Darkness swallowed me.

*The baby. Oh God, my baby—*

I kicked desperately, broke the surface one more time, my movements growing weaker.

"You know what I think?" she said conversationally. "I think Julian will be relieved. No messy divorce. No scandal. Just a tragic accident. The clumsy wife who fell into the pool and couldn't swim."

*She wants me dead. She's actually going to let me die.*

My arms gave out. I went under again, and this time I couldn't push back up. The dress wrapped around my legs like chains, pulling me down into the darkness.

*I'm so sorry, baby. I tried so hard.*

My chest burned. My vision went dark at the edges. And somewhere in the fading consciousness, I thought I heard something—

A roar. Violent. Terrified. Furious.

*Julian?*

Then hands—strong, desperate—grabbed me under the arms, hauling me upward with brutal force.

I broke the surface, coughing violently, water streaming everywhere. Arms wrapped around me, crushing me against a solid chest, and I heard a voice—rough, shaking with something that sounded almost like fear.

"I've got you. Breathe, Elena. Breathe."

I couldn't see clearly. Couldn't focus. But those arms felt familiar.

"Stay with me," it commanded, urgent and broken. "Don't you fucking dare give up."

I tried to open my eyes, tried to see his face through the water and tears and chlorine burning everything.

*It can't be him. Why would he save me? He hates me.*

"Elena!" The voice cracked. "Open your eyes! Look at me!"

But I was so tired. So cold. The darkness was creeping in, soft and inviting, promising rest.

*My death would solve all his problems. No divorce. No scandal. He'd finally be free.*

The thought was almost comforting. Final.

My body went limp in those arms, even as they tightened desperately around me, even as that voice kept screaming my name like his entire world was breaking apart.

*I'm sorry, Julian. I'm sorry I wasn't what you needed.*

*I'm sorry, baby. I'm sorry Mommy couldn't protect you.*