Chapter 1
It was late at night when the military jeep pulled up to the gates of Eldridge Manor, its headlights casting eerie shadows across the manicured lawn. Eleanor Hartford jumped down from the vehicle and snapped a crisp salute to the driver before making her way toward the imposing front door. As it swung open, she was greeted by Lydia Montgomery, the housekeeper. “Ma’am, you’re back.” Lydia’s presence was a reminder of the man inside—the one Eleanor had been both yearning and dreading to see. A surge of anxiety washed over her. If tomorrow weren’t Gerald Eldridge’s birthday, she wouldn’t have dared return. “Yeah,” Eleanor replied, her voice steadier than she felt, as she stepped through the halls toward the staircase. The glow of light peered from the cracks of the bedroom door. Standing at the threshold, she felt the sweat pooling at the small of her back, her heart racing. With a quick twist, she opened the door, summoning every ounce of courage. Arthur Eldridge was sitting on the edge of the bed, dressed in a loose-fitting robe, freshly showered, hands clasped together in front of him. His chest was exposed, muscles defined and alluring in the soft light... Six months apart, and he still looked every bit the charismatic soldier she remembered. “Still awake?” she managed to say, forcing a casual tone into her voice, though inside she was trembling. Arthur remained silent, his gaze impassive. The cold shoulder only amplified the tension in the room. Exhaling slowly, Eleanor turned to the closet, her heart thudding. She grabbed her sleepwear, desperate for warmth and comfort, ready to wash away the day’s fatigue. But as she reached for the doorknob, she felt him surge forward. Before she could react, he slammed her against the wall beside the bathroom entrance. The force of it knocked the breath from her lungs, leaving her stunned as he closed the distance, capturing her lips with an overwhelming kiss… Was it passion? Punishment? She couldn’t tell, only that pain bloomed where his mouth met hers. His aggressive energy swallowed her whole. Were all kisses between married couples like this? Eleanor squirmed, trying to push him away, but he pinned her hands to the wall, an iron grip that left her breathless. “Mm—” Arthur’s kisses were fierce, trailing from her lips down to her neck, burying his face against her collarbone like an animal claiming its territory. Realizing where things were headed, dread flooded through her. “Arthur! Please, don’t do this!” He ignored her, teeth biting into the fabric of her olive green shirt, ripping buttons off with a vicious intensity. As the shirt fell open, revealing skin untouched by the sun, she felt exposure flush her face. The restraint he’d shown cracked wide open. Fear gripped her heart as realization set in. This wasn’t how she’d envisioned their reunion. Even though they were married, this was too much, too soon. “Arthur, I get it, I messed up! Just… please don’t do this. I’m scared!” He paused, the fierce energy fading for just a moment, surprise flickering in his eyes. “Scared? You know what scared is? You’ve been gone one hundred ninety-nine days, and you just decide to waltz back in?” Eleanor blinked, shock gripping her—a man so often indifferent now riddled with worry. Had he really kept count of the days? Arthur’s grip was crushing as he pulled her close, scolding like a father rebuking a reckless child. “You couldn’t have told me where you were going? That place you ran off to? Didn’t you think about me at all?” He hadn’t wanted a wife just to lose her to danger. But the depths of his anger, mixed with concern, crept into her heart like treacle. Yes, she’d fled. Yes, it had been reckless. But she hadn’t expected this level of emotion in his response—nor the turmoil it would ensue. She had thought he’d move on, that he wouldn’t care. Yet here he was, raw and exposed as he pulled her tighter, their escalating conflict bridging the void of separation and misunderstanding. Eleanor couldn’t shake the sense that by returning, she’d not merely crossed a threshold of the manor, but a line deeper within them both.
Chapter 2
It had been two weeks since the earthquake, and Eleanor Hartford couldn't shake the haunting memories of the aftermath. She didn’t know how she’d managed to survive until she found herself counting the names on the list of casualties. Her heart sank; she didn’t see hers. Lying on the bed, Eleanor remained silent as Arthur Eldridge loomed over her, his body pinning her down. She felt a mix of gratitude and fear. “Arthur Eldridge, let go of me!” she demanded, her voice firm despite the unsettling proximity of his frame. Arthur’s intensity curled around her like a vice, reminding her of how powerless she felt in his presence. Their first encounter had been a drunken mistake, a blur of shaky hands and slurred words that had spiraled into something else entirely. She wasn’t about to make that error again. But her protests had zero effect on Arthur. In the months they had been apart, his obsession had grown, twisting his affection into something darker. With a deliberate slowness, Arthur's long fingers tugged at the strap of her top. His gaze was cold, but beneath that steadiness lurked a frantic desperation she couldn’t comprehend. She would never understand just how essential she was to him. “Stop it! If you don’t let go, I swear I’ll go to Grandpa and file for divorce tomorrow!” “Divorce?” His reaction was unexpectedly fiery, propelling him deeper into a reckless fervor. He had spoiled her since their union, and he resolved now to remind her who Eleanor Hartford truly belonged to. Pain. That was all Eleanor felt as he broke into her world. In their youth, when he’d been her mentor at boot camp, she had thought his harshest punishment was making her run fifty laps on the field. Little did she know, this moment would outdo all of that. Time stretched until, when she finally stopped hoping for mercy, it came. The unforgiving silence that filled the room felt palpable. Eleanor shook herself from the haze of his presence, remembering her need to shower. The sticky remnants of their encounter clung to her skin, making her cringe. She sat up, tossing on a shirt and said, “You broke our agreement. Let’s get a divorce!” Their wedding had come with promises—he wouldn’t touch her—but now he had utterly crossed that line. Arthur remained motionless on the bed, watching her retreat into the bathroom with that chilling, detached gaze. She was unlike anyone he had ever met, exhibiting a calmness that unnerved him as she recalled their initial pact. Yet little did Eleanor realize, since their wedding day, she had been tied to him, a bond he would never allow her to escape. Inside the steamy confines of the bathroom, she washed away the evidence of their tryst, though the marks he left on her skin would haunt her much longer. A loud thud echoed—a door slamming outside heralded Arthur’s absence as he likely trekked back to his beloved. She had grown accustomed to this fleeting rhythm of his comings and goings. Facing herself in the mirror, Eleanor's thoughts drifted to the man she should have been pining for, Derek Whitaker. Instead, it was Arthur’s face that filled her mind. She couldn't help but think she was losing her mind. Wasn’t she aware that even marriage wouldn’t truly claim him? --- The next morning, Eleanor awoke early, deciding to join Gerald Eldridge for breakfast. There was no sign of Arthur or Lydia Montgomery. “Did Arthur not come down with you?” Gerald asked, breaking the silence. Eleanor felt the heat rise to her cheeks, awkwardness knitting her brow. After Arthur left last night, he hadn’t returned, leaving her alone with her turmoil.
Chapter 3
Eleanor Hartford had always strived to be the perfect, devoted wife. Even though Arthur was out gallivanting with other women, she brushed it off as not a big deal. “He’s just busy with work,” she defended him to her grandfather, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her. “But I thought you were coming back yesterday. He was waiting for you,” her grandfather replied, the crease in his brow deepening. “When that earthquake hit a while back, he was worried sick about you. Blamed me for letting you go to such a dangerous place. Then what happens? You come back, and he’s nowhere to be found?” Eleanor felt a wave of surprise wash over her. “He was worried about me?” “Of course, he was. You’re his wife,” he said, gazing at her with a mixture of affection and concern. “I know both of you are busy and sometimes lose sight of each other, but Arthur truly cares about you. In my whole life, I’ve never seen him be so attentive to anyone.” The old man’s words left Eleanor in a state of disbelief. If only he knew the truth about Arthur Eldridge's life outside of their home. In the confines of their house, Arthur had always been an expert at deception. “Well, since you’re back, you should spend some time with him. Marriage isn’t just about work. I’m looking forward to holding a grandchild someday!” Eleanor nodded, her response automatic. “Sure.” Though the events of last night had ignited thoughts of divorce, she hesitated to bring it up in front of her grandfather. After dinner, Alfred approached her. “Ma’am, the old general wants you to personally fetch the young master.” “Me?” Eleanor hesitated, thinking about visiting her grandmother instead. “But I don’t even know where—” Before she could finish, Alfred handed her a piece of paper with an address, effectively silencing her protest. Stepping out from Eldridge Manor with the address in hand, Eleanor begrudgingly navigated her way to Falconridge Military Academy, where Arthur was currently stationed. Standing at the entrance, the sight of the academy's crest stirred an array of emotions within her. It had been two years since she’d left this place, and now, returning felt surreal. This was where she graduated, the very ground where she first met Arthur Eldridge. She’d never forget the day he walked into her classroom looking impeccably handsome, effortlessly capturing the attention of every student in the room. Right now, she could see him on the training grounds, lecturing a group of students. The kids were bold these days; one girl even had the nerve to throw a cheeky remark at him. “Arthur, do you have a girlfriend? If not, what would you say to me being your girlfriend?” Confronted with such a bold question, Arthur merely raised an eyebrow and replied, “What’s your name?” His voice had a melodic quality that sent a rush of pride through Eleanor. To think he was her husband made her heart swell—at least, until she heard the girl’s excited response. The girl probably thought Arthur’s curiosity was an invitation, but it was hardly that. In front of everyone, he bluntly stated, “Well, nice to meet you, Clara Kingsley, but you’re expelled.” A hush fell over the crowd as the students realized he wasn’t playing around. The girl, Clara, was quickly ushered away in tears while the others shrank back, fearful that they might be next in his line of fire. As Eleanor observed Arthur scold the kids, memories from their own time in the academy surfaced. Back when she was a student, he had been exceptionally hard on her, mercilessly making her run laps around the training field. It had even led to her fainting from heat exhaustion once. Eleanor shook her head, trying to wipe away the bittersweet nostalgia. Here she was, entangled in a life she never anticipated, forced to confront the reality of who her husband had become—and the man he had always been.
Chapter 4
Eleanor Hartford thought Arthur Eldridge was the biggest jerk in the world back then. Now, looking back, she realized that those complaints felt trivial. If he were truly as bad as she’d imagined, he could’ve easily fired her or sent her packing. His harsh expectations stemmed from his high hopes for her—nothing more. Over the years, she discovered he’d fought behind the scenes for her, securing opportunities that were crucial to her growth. In truth, he had treated her well. “Major Hartford,” a woman’s voice cut through Eleanor’s reverie. Eleanor turned to see Isabella Winters, dressed in a pristine white lab coat, her movements elegant and poised. Every time she encountered Isabella, an unsettling feeling crept over her. As Arthur's wife, how could she afford to feel jealous, especially towards the women around him? Eleanor gathered herself, maintaining her composure. “What brings Dr. Winters to this side of the world?” Isabella smiled brightly. “Arthur’s been coming here a lot lately, so I picked up a part-time gig. I didn’t expect to run into you, Major Hartford. It’s been too long. After the earthquake, I was worried about you.” “Worried I’d die and get in the way of you and Arthur?” Eleanor replied with a feigned laugh. No matter how she felt, she was still Arthur Eldridge’s wife, and there was a deep bond between him and Isabella. The deeper the affection, the more intolerant one becomes of perceived threats. Isabella’s smile faltered for a moment before she recovered. “I’m sorry about what I said last time! I shouldn’t have let my feelings get the better of me. You must understand—my feelings for Arthur run deep. You’ve loved someone too, right? You get it?” “Not anymore. I’ve moved on from that.” In truth, her abrupt exit had a lot to do with Isabella’s words, but after staring death in the face, she realized petty grievances weren’t worth holding onto. Jealousy was not an emotion she wanted to entertain. “Then let’s grab a coffee,” Isabella proposed, her smile returning. Eleanor glanced over at Arthur and caught him watching her. No, he was looking at Isabella. A flicker of tenderness crossed his face—his demeanor toward her was different than with anyone else. The uneasy feeling inside Eleanor bubbled up again, but she quickly pushed it aside. Before long, Arthur approached, his brows furrowed as he took in Eleanor’s presence. “What are you doing here?” Eleanor rarely intruded on his space. “Grandfather sent me to bring you back.” She stated her purpose plainly. If not for Grandfather’s orders, she wouldn’t have wanted to intrude on their moment. “Tell him I can return on my own. I don’t need you to come fetch me.” Arthur’s expression darkened, revealing his annoyance. He was almost convinced she had come on her own accord. Honestly, if it weren't for Grandfather, she’d never consider stepping foot in this place where he and Isabella shared laughter. The sight of them together grated on her nerves, especially considering Arthur’s disregard for her feelings. “You know what? If you don’t want to go back, don’t. You can sort it out with Grandfather yourself,” she shot back, sensing his frustration. Eleanor knew he felt interrupted, and the last thing she wanted was to amplify his irritation. The growing chasm between them felt as wide as the ocean, and yet here they were, crisscrossing paths with the very same web that had tangled their lives together.
Chapter 5
Respectfully deferring to his superior, Arthur Eldridge had briefly played the role of her Victor. Even in his temporary position, Eleanor Hartford didn’t dare to cross him. Arthur’s icy gaze pierced through her. His disdainful look sent the clever Eleanor Hartford scrambling for an escape. She made a half-hearted attempt at friendliness, calling out to Isabella Winters, “See you later, Isabella! We’ll talk about coffee another time.” She wasn’t in uniform today, but every move she made exuded a soldier’s composure, unwavering even in casual attire. Yet it was her easy demeanor with Isabella that provoked Arthur’s displeasure. As Eleanor turned to leave, she felt a firm grip on her wrist; Arthur wasn’t done with her yet. This was way too awkward—holding her hand like this in front of his girlfriend? Before she could voice her confusion, he tugged her into the nearby grove. “Hey! Arthur, take it easy! Let’s talk this out. I didn’t mean to interrupt! My grandfather sent for me, you can call him if you don’t believe me…” She tried to explain, her heart racing. But the more she spoke, the angrier Arthur grew, dragging her deeper into the woods until he pushed her against a massive sycamore tree. He tilted his head down and silenced her protests with a kiss, and just like that, the chaos of the world around them faded. Eleanor’s eyes widened in shock. As he pressed against her, she noticed how impossibly long his eyelashes were, provoking a twinge of insecurity within her. Memories from the night before flooded her mind. Here she was, back against the rough bark, being kissed with an intensity that was wholly unexpected. Her heart pounded violently in her chest as she clenched her fists, torn between wanting to push him away and fearing that would only inflame his fury. How could she let this happen? Isabella was just outside. What would that woman say if she found out? She felt like a fish out of water, wriggling with anxiety and desperately seeking an escape. Arthur's kiss wasn’t just about silencing her; he'd lost control after she mentioned divorce. But deep inside, he craved her—it had been months since they’d seen one another, and the urge to claim her was overwhelming. He wanted nothing more than to keep her close, to cherish her. Still, he had ventured out here, and pride held him back from retreating. As he kissed her, he couldn’t read the flurry of emotions churning in her eyes, and it drove him to the brink. Why was this woman so devoid of playfulness? Why did it hurt him to see her worry? Trapped between Arthur and the tree, Eleanor couldn’t escape his kiss, all while anxiously anticipating Isabella’s appearance. But Isabella didn’t come, and suddenly Arthur pulled back, a storm brewing in his eyes. “What are you thinking?” he demanded, frustration simmering just below the surface. “You’re the worst at ruining the moment.” Eleanor finally expressed her concern. “I was thinking about whether Isabella would be angry if she saw us like this. I was planning to protect you from last night’s fallout, but come on, Arthur! Don’t you think this is getting out of hand?” Even as his wife, she couldn’t help but feel contempt for his disloyal behaviors. Arthur glared at her, a frigid chill emanating from his gaze. “Eleanor, maybe instead of worrying about Isabella, you should focus on what’s going on with yourself.” Why was she worried about Isabella when they were stuck in this mess? He felt like he was stealing a moment with his own wife. “How can I focus on myself when you’re pinning me like this?” she shot back, exasperated and unable to fight back against his strength, her irritation mounting.
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