Shadows of a Broken Promise

Chapter 1

**He Wants a Divorce**

Night had fallen, wrapping the world in darkness, with only the distant twinkling of city lights to break the void.

Silverpeak Manor stood regal in the luxurious heart of Dunshire, its grand windows offering breathtaking views of the well-lit castle. The room was awash in shadows, harboring tension that hung in the air.

Suddenly, the ambiance shifted as brighter light flooded the space.

Eleanor Winters squinted in discomfort, clutching the bedsheet tightly, her mind swirling in the remnants of sleep.

Duncan Fletcher emerged from the bathroom, wrapped loosely in a towel that clung to his slim waist. He stepped out, droplets of water still clinging to his skin.

The sounds of running water receded, leaving Eleanor to survey the disheveled state of the room—the clothes he’d shed scattered across the floor. With a sigh, she rose, the ache in her back reminding her of last night’s activities, and hurriedly wrapped herself in a plush robe, attempting to restore some semblance of order.

Though they had been married for almost two years, Duncan had always approached their intimacy with an irresistible force, leaving no room for her objections. Fortunately, he wasn’t insatiable, which spared her from those overwhelming moments more frequently.

Duncan emerged from the bathroom, towel still secured around his waist. Upon seeing her, Eleanor instinctively extended a soft pajama top his way.

“Duncan, your clothes,” she offered, a hint of hope dancing in her voice.

“Thanks,” he replied, slipping the shirt over his head.

It had been nearly a month since he had last returned, and though they had agreed on his return by the end of the month, here he was, back in the middle of it. Clearly, his business endeavors abroad had seen unexpected success.

“Will you be staying for a few days now that you’re home?” Eleanor inquired, settling beside him, eager for a sliver of connection.

He paused for a moment, continuing to peruse the documents on his lap. Eleanor could see the weariness etched into his features; she wanted to comfort him. Yet there was a lingering softness in her heart that caught her off guard.

“Yeah,” he said, his tone flat, devoid of any extra warmth.

Eleanor’s heart lifted at his response, a smile brightening her delicate features as she retreated to the bathroom, her spirits subtly lifted.

Moments later, Eleanor emerged, clad in a cute pajama set adorned with pink bunnies. Cuddling close to Duncan, she nestled into him as he continued to sift through his papers, the scent of baby powder wafting gently between them.

After a moment of hesitation, Duncan reached into the drawer beside him, pulling out a document. He handed it to Eleanor, his expression unchanged, but something darker flickered behind his eyes.

Confusion clouded her mind as she unfolded the page, her breath hitching as the words 'Separation Decree' leapt out at her, stinging like ice.

“That’s... a divorce agreement,” she stammered, barely able to grasp what was happening.

Duncan’s eyes bore into her, his tone calm yet unyielding. “All the terms are laid out inside. Besides this manor, you’ll keep twenty percent of Fletcher Guild and all the gifts I’ve given you. If there’s anything else you desire, just ask.”

Eleanor's heart raced as her fingers trembled, still struggling to process his words. How could he hand her a divorce agreement so coldly?

“Duncan, did I do something wrong? Did I make you mad? Please, I can change. I’ll be good; just don’t do this to us.”

As she pleaded with him, the utterance of her name fell from his lips with a chilling detachment. “Eleanor, remember our agreement? Two years and we’d part ways. I’m just exercising our contract a little early. Feel free to review it; if there’s anything fair you’d like added, we can discuss.”

His words splashed over her like a bucket of ice water, jolting her from the haze of her plea. Eleanor nervously took the folder back, staring down at it, fighting back tears.

“No, nothing,” she barely whispered, her heart sinking.

“Can I ask why the sudden urgency?” she pressed, trying to understand the precipitating event.

“Gwendolyn Greenwood is back.”

Her stomach dropped, and the reality of the situation settled in like a lead weight.

“You don’t have to worry about remarriage; we’re still under the radar here,” Duncan added.

“Fine,” she replied, her heart clenching.

“And it’s best if you don’t bring this up with anyone,” he went on, “it’ll only hurt you in the end.”

Eleanor forced a smile, though it felt brittle. “I won’t say a word, I promise.”

She had never belonged to his world, to the wealth and warmth of the Fletcher family. The rift between them could not have been more pronounced—her life, marked by her mother’s illness and a father’s abandonment, was in stark contrast to the Fletcher dynasty.

Once upon a time, she had tried to help Gerald Fletcher when he collapsed on the street, thinking a simple act of kindness would bridge that gap. Gerald, feeling sorry for her plight, had insisted Duncan marry her.

Duncan had reserved his heart for someone else—a woman who had just returned.

Eleanor had naïvely hoped that being a good wife would sway him. It seemed all her efforts had done was reinforce her place as a shadow.

With a heavy heart, she bit the inside of her cheek, trying to keep the tears from spilling. The weight of the past two years crashed down on her; Duncan had been a good husband in all respects but one—love.

“Tomorrow, we’ll head to Fletcher Keep to inform the family,” he asserted, his voice steady.

She nodded, unable to meet his eyes, mind racing with turmoil.

“I’ll talk to Grandpa about it; he isn’t in great health, this is a conversation I should manage,” Duncan continued with a hint of softness that made her heart ache.

The mention of Gerald made her feel a flicker of warmth amidst the despair. He had been a pillar of support during her time in Fletcher House. Were it not for him, she probably wouldn’t have navigated the chaos of the family at all.

With a wave of resignation, she thought that maybe leaving would ease the tumult Gerald had endured because of her.

Duncan reached over, running his fingers gently through Eleanor’s hair. “Don’t overthink. I’ll clear things up with the family.”

His touch sent ripples of warmth through her, but they felt more like shackles now. It was a kindness that burned rather than healed, a bitter reminder of how deep her heartbreak ran.

As she lay there, the divorce agreement now merely a physical entity, Eleanor closed her eyes tightly, trying to block out the painful reality.

Duncan tucked the covers tighter around her, then slipped out of bed, leaving her alone in the dimness of the moonlit room.

Once the door clicked shut, she lay back in the dark, tears spilling over as the weight of sorrow pressed down on her chest.

Eleanor clutched the blanket, feeling small and lost, her breath hitching as silent sobs wracked her body.

Meanwhile, Duncan stood on the balcony, his thoughts drifting back to the past two years spent with Eleanor—moments of connection now marred by inevitable separation.

His phone buzzed, yanking him from his reverie. A message from Gwendolyn—“Have you talked to her yet?”

With a frustrated sigh, he typed a quick response: “Yeah.” He powered down his phone and returned to the bedroom.

Eleanor was asleep, curled like a small animal, clutching the covers tightly.

Duncan shifted closer, adjusting her position subconsciously—his body expanding while hers remained a safe haven of innocence. She instinctively snuggled against him, a movement so habitual it made his heart ache.

As the rhythmic sound of his breathing filled the room, Eleanor's eyes fluttered open. Unlike the calm of sleep, her gaze was clear and awake, her thoughts troubled.

“Why can’t you forget her, no matter how hard I try?” Eleanor whispered to herself in the quiet—two years spent in vain.

The pain in her chest throbbed as she breathed, a sharp reminder that no matter how close they seemed, love was a bridge she could never cross.

Chapter 2

**Agree to the Divorce**

The following morning.

Inside Fletcher Castle.

“Duncan, are you trying to drive me crazy? For the past two years, you've been blissfully happy with Eleanor Winters. She has taken care of you in every possible way, and now you're just throwing around the idea of a divorce like it's nothing. What do you think marriage is?”

Gerald Fletcher’s booming voice echoed through the study, punctuated by the sound of a desk lamp crashing to the floor.

Downstairs in the grand hall, Duncan's family—his parents, aunt, and sister—watched Eleanor with cold detachment.

“Honestly, I thought you were something special, but look at you now, kicked to the curb by Duncan,” Lily Fletcher snickered.

Eleanor sat on the sofa, fingers gripping the hem of her dress, her silence a heavy response.

Leo Fletcher shot a warning look at Lily, signaling her to hold her tongue. Rising, he added, “Since you’ve chosen the divorce route, don’t come crawling back to the Fletchers later.” With that, he strode off to work.

As soon as Leo left, the atmosphere shifted. Duncan's family didn’t hide their disdain any longer.

“I told you my brother is only ever going to love one person—Gwendolyn. Now that she’s back, there’s no place for you,” Blake stated, looking down at Eleanor with a condescending grin.

Eleanor felt their words sinking into her like daggers. She could barely breathe. What was happening with Duncan? Would his grandfather lay into him?

Getting up, she resolved to check on him. The three women downstairs eyed her, their gazes dripping with derision.

Ignoring them, she made her way to the study.

As she quietly opened the door, she caught a glimpse of Duncan on the floor, kneeling amidst a mess that looked like a storm had hit. Just as she was about to push the door open, she heard Duncan’s low voice.

“It was you who insisted I marry her. I went along with it because you wanted it. You said I had to treat her right, and for the past two years, I’ve done just that.”

He took a deep breath. “But you also said that I could decide after two years whether to keep the marriage or not. Well, I don’t want to anymore. I’m marrying Gwendolyn, and Eleanor and I need to get divorced.”

So that was it.

He only married her because of his grandfather.

With Gwendolyn back in the picture, she was expendable.

Eleanor couldn’t hear anything around her; it was like the world had faded away. She gripped the doorknob tightly, trying to anchor herself.

Taking a few deep breaths, she finally pushed the door open and knelt beside Duncan. Both he and Gerald turned to her, faces frozen in surprise.

Eleanor lifted her pale face to Gerald. “Grandpa, the divorce is a mutual decision. I hope you can accept that.”

Gerald’s expression softened with concern as he helped Eleanor to her feet. “Child, this mess is Duncan’s fault. I’ll ensure you’re taken care of.”

Shock filled Gerald as he looked at her. Eleanor had been devoted to Duncan these past two years. She wasn’t like that superficial Gwendolyn.

He had thought that within these two years, Duncan would recognize Eleanor’s worth and they would settle into a life together. But Duncan had let him down.

Eleanor forced a smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Please, Grandpa, just agree to this. I’m asking you.”

It was clear there was no turning back. Trying to hold onto something that was already slipping away was pointless.

She loved him, but she also had her pride. If he was so eager to get divorced, why stop him from chasing his happiness?

Gerald, seeing her determination, sank into a chair, a heavy weariness settling over him. He seemed to age a decade in an instant.

“Do whatever you want. It’s your life,” he waved his hand, letting out a resigned sigh.

Gerald turned to Duncan, his voice thick with emotion. “Duncan, make sure you don’t regret this decision.”

Duncan looked up but didn’t respond. His gaze flickered to Eleanor, his mouth moving but words failing him.

“I’m sorry,” he finally muttered.

“Don’t be,” Eleanor replied as she shook her head, struggling to process the whirlwind of emotions.

From her purse, she pulled out the divorce papers she had prepared just that morning and handed them to Duncan.

He took the folder, glancing at it. Both their signatures were already on the document—his signed on the very day they’d gotten married.

The realization hit her like a tidal wave. From the start, he had planned this escape. He never intended to stay.

“Duncan, you can go now,” Gerald said, dismissing him with a wave.

Duncan, holding the folder tightly, turned on his heel and left without looking back.

Once he was gone, Eleanor felt her legs weaken, darkness closing in around her. She collapsed, her vision swallowed by shadows.

“Someone! Get help!” Gerald’s voice broke through the haze.

“Eleanor, don’t you scare me!” He cradled her in his arms, panic rising in his chest. Thomas and a bodyguard rushed up from downstairs, their eyes widening at the sight of Eleanor's limp form.

“Get her to the hospital!”

Thomas helped Gerald down the stairs. The three women watched as Eleanor was carried away, their faces devoid of any pity.

“Seriously, what does Grandpa see in that girl?” Blake muttered, plugging in her headphones and retreating to her room, effectively shutting out the chaos.

**Kingsbridge Medical Hall.**

“Stuart, what’s going on with Eleanor?”

Stuart Stewart, wearing his signature gold-rimmed glasses, studied the test results with a thoughtful squint.

Just as Gerald’s worry mounted, Eleanor stirred back to consciousness, and Stuart let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Gerald, step outside for a moment. I need to ask Eleanor a few questions before I can make a diagnosis.”

Stuart had been like family; the Stewarts and the Fletchers had been intertwined for generations. Gerald trusted him implicitly.

“Eleanor, if you’re feeling unwell, please be honest with Stuart. Don’t keep anything from him, alright?” Gerald’s voice was gentle as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

She nodded dutifully, watching as Stuart ushered Gerald out of the room.

“Stuart, that idiot Duncan is divorcing Eleanor. She’s devoted herself to him through everything, and this is going to break her. I truly like her; she deserves better. Can you talk to her?” Gerald’s expression was a mixture of concern and grief.

“Don’t worry, Grandpa. I’ll talk to her,” Stuart promised as he entered the patient room, finding Eleanor pale and a shadow of her usual self.

“Stuart, I’m fine. I just haven’t gotten enough rest. Tell Grandpa not to worry,” she insisted.

The emotional rollercoaster of the previous night had taken a toll on her, compounded by long hours she’d spent focused on her work.

Stuart could see that Eleanor was reluctant to add to Gerald's burdens at this difficult moment, knowing how deeply everyone cared for her. She was a beloved figure, and they all knew about Duncan’s messy history.

He and Duncan were childhood friends, and while Stuart understood Gwendolyn’s looming presence, he had genuinely thought Duncan and Eleanor would figure it out together.

And now, just days after Gwendolyn's return, Duncan had dropped the bombshell about their divorce.

Chapter 3

You’re Pregnant

Stuart held the medical report in his hands, staring at it as if it were a live grenade. After a long moment, he finally handed it over to Eleanor Winters.

“You’re pregnant,” he said.

The words hit Eleanor like a thunderclap, leaving her momentarily speechless.

“Stuart, what are you saying?” she managed to stutter as she snatched the report from him. The bold letters glaring back read “Early Pregnancy: 1 Month”—a statement that sent waves of bitterness crashing through her chest.

For the past two years, she had longed for a child with Duncan Fletcher. But now, after everything—they were divorced, and here came Stuart with this news.

Stuart hadn’t expected to be the bearer of such a revelation either.

“You need to tell Duncan. He has a right to know he’s going to be a father. Besides, you two haven’t finalized your divorce yet. There might still be a chance,” he suggested gently.

Eleanor’s mood was a complicated web of emotions as she gazed at the report.

“Stuart, can you keep this to yourself? Please, don’t tell anyone. I need to think this through.”

Her eyes were pleading, desperate not to let this baby tether her to Duncan or use the pregnancy as a bargaining chip for their love.

Before Stuart could reply, the hospital room door swung open, and Duncan strode in, his face a storm cloud.

“What happened? Why did you faint?”

Just moments before, he had been on his way to find Gwendolyn when his father’s call had sent him racing over after hearing about Eleanor’s collapse.

Duncan approached Eleanor, his hand instinctively brushing her forehead. Turning sharply towards Stuart, he demanded, “What’s wrong with her?”

Stuart took a moment to study Eleanor, who looked like a deer caught in headlights. Her eyes conveyed a silent plea. “She’s been working late and didn’t rest well. Low blood sugar, I think,” he replied carefully.

Relief washed over Eleanor when Stuart withheld the truth.

But in a swift move, Duncan grabbed the report from her hands.

“Is this the test result? Let me see.”

His brow furrowed deeply, confusion evident on his face.

“Fainting from working late? That doesn’t add up,” he muttered, ready to scrutinize the details when Stuart snatched the report back.

“That’s for another patient. Eleanor’s test results haven’t come in yet,” Stuart quickly interjected.

Duncan raised an eyebrow, feeling something was off but chose not to press for now. As he turned back to Eleanor, she sighed, relieved.

“Stuart,” he began, “talk to her if she needs anything. I’ll be nearby,” he added, before stepping out of the room.

As soon as Stuart left, Eleanor tried to find a comfortable position but was stymied when Duncan placed a firm hand on her shoulder.

“Didn’t Stuart just tell you to rest? You need to take it easy and lie down.”

Seeing him take charge reminded her of when they had first married. A few weeks in, she had been hospitalized with a stomach bug, and Duncan had sat by her side, worry etched into his features.

But now, the recollection stung like a fresh wound.

“I’m fine. You… weren’t you looking for Gwendolyn?” she asked, the name feeling clunky and bizarre in their reality.

Duncan regarded her for a long moment before speaking. “Eleanor,” he said suddenly, his tone shifting.

“Yeah?”

“What I said in the study earlier… those were just words out of anger. I didn’t mean them. I know how you feel about that.” He wanted to clear the air, to reassure her that what had transpired was a miscommunication fueled by emotions.

The past two years had been a whirlwind. Initially, it had involved Gerald, but ultimately, it was about more than just him.

“Duncan, do you like kids?” Eleanor asked out of the blue, the words slipping out before she could think.

Just then, his phone buzzed, and Eleanor caught a glimpse of Gwendolyn’s name lighting up his screen. Hope flickered briefly in her chest before extinguishing itself.

“I didn’t catch that last part,” Duncan said, glancing up from his phone.

Eleanor shook her head, brushing it off. “It’s nothing. You can take the call.”

The incessant ringing prompted Duncan to step out to the balcony, leaving her alone to wrestle with her thoughts.

Minutes passed, and although she couldn’t make out what he was discussing, she could see him frowning and then relaxing.

When he returned, there was an awkwardness in the air. “Eleanor, Gwendolyn’s not well and has been admitted to the hospital. I need to check on her,” he said apologetically.

Eleanor felt her heart sink. “Duncan, can’t you stay with me for a while? I really want your company right now,” she said, her voice soft and tentative, almost like a child seeking comfort.

Duncan closed the space between them, sitting on the edge of the bed, his hand gently brushing her hair away from her face.

“She’s new in town and doesn’t know anyone,” he said, but it felt more like an excuse than a reason.

“Sure, go. I understand,” Eleanor murmured, putting on her brave face.

She had tried to hold on, but ultimately, Duncan’s decision was made.

Before leaving, he gave her one last look. “If you feel unwell, let Stuart know.”

Eleanor nodded, forcing a smile as he turned and walked away without looking back.

Watching him go, she felt the reality sink in. No matter the child growing inside her, Gwendolyn would always take precedence in his heart.

She placed a hand on her flat stomach, a sudden wave of protectiveness rising within her.

Gerald Fletcher, Duncan’s grandfather, had gotten wind of Duncan’s departure and rushed over from Stuart's office.

Eleanor withdrew her hand from her belly, the corners of her mouth lifting into a fragile smile as she watched him approach.

“Grandpa, sorry for worrying you,” she said sweetly.

The old man shook his head, a hint of regret clouding his expression. In this moment, he could see that even now, Eleanor always thought of others first.

“It’s my fault,” he sighed, resting a gentle hand on hers. “If I hadn’t forced Duncan to marry you, none of this would have happened. You deserve better. All along, you deserved happiness.”

Eleanor quickly shook her head. “Grandpa, if it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have had that extra year with Mom before having to face all this. I’ve had my share of happiness.”

And she meant it too. Even reflecting on Duncan felt bittersweet, remembering the good times and all that had been lost.

“Eleanor, are you really going to go through with this divorce? You know I could intervene, make sure Duncan can’t leave you.”

She fell silent, her head bowed for a moment before meeting Gerald’s concerned gaze. She shook her head firmly.

“Grandpa, his heart belongs to Gwendolyn. I don’t want to force him to stay; that would only create more pain. I want us both to find happiness, whatever that looks like.”

Gerald felt the weight of her decision, disappointment settling in for his grandson. “It’s Duncan’s loss, not yours, Eleanor. Such a wonderful woman, and he’s too blind to see it.”

Gerald wanted desperately to provide comfort to Eleanor, to ensure she never felt less than adored.

“Eleanor, I’m transferring all my shares at Fletcher Guild to you.”

She shook her head in protest. “No, Grandpa. Duncan’s already given me twenty percent. You should keep what’s yours. This is your legacy.”

Fletcher Guild might not be the entire Fletcher empire, but with her grandfather’s thirty percent, she would effectively become the major shareholder. She didn’t want or need any more from Duncan.

Gerald continued, his voice firm, “I have shares in other businesses too. At my age, I’ve learned material wealth means nothing. You’re just starting your life. You have so much potential ahead of you.”

Eleanor felt overwhelmed but couldn’t argue.

Moments later, Stuart returned, carrying a small bag of medication.

“Here are some prescriptions. You can take them without worry. Instructions are all listed inside,” he said.

Eleanor accepted the bag but wondered why he was prescribing anything at all.

But with Gerald present, she didn’t want to probe.

“Is she seriously unwell?” Gerald asked, glancing at Stuart.

“Just a little weak. These are to help her regain strength,” Stuart responded, relieved that Gerald accepted his clarification.

As Eleanor looked through the bag, a note fell out. The neat, practiced handwriting jumped out at her—it was mostly labeled as prenatal vitamins.

In that quiet moment, she felt the weight of her choices, her heart pounding with a mix of apprehension and uncertain hope for what would come next.

Chapter 4

**Unexpected Encounters at the Hospital**

Eleanor Winters quickly zipped up her bag, anxious that Gerald Fletcher might catch a glimpse of its contents.

“Stuart, can I go home now?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah, you’re doing better. If anything feels off, just let me know,” Stuart Stewart replied, his face warm with concern.

Eleanor nodded her thanks, pushing aside the hospital blankets and swinging her legs over the edge of the bed.

As they made their way out of the hospital room, Gerald, with his cane in hand, suddenly caught the sound of a familiar voice. "Grandpa Gerald! Stuart!"

She turned around to see Duncan Fletcher walking in, hand in hand with a stunning woman in a white sundress.

For a split second, Eleanor was taken aback. This was Gwendolyn Greenwood, Duncan's former flame, and suddenly it all clicked.

Gerald’s face darkened the moment he laid eyes on them. “Your wife is in the hospital and you’re here with... her?” he sneered, eyeing Duncan and Gwendolyn with palpable disdain.

Caught off guard, Duncan instinctively glanced at Eleanor, only to see her poker-faced, supporting Gerald’s frailty. A wave of frustration washed over him.

Gwendolyn, seemingly oblivious to the tension, maintained her cheerful demeanor. “Grandpa Gerald, it’s been so long! You still look as strong as ever,” she chimed, wrapping her arms around Duncan’s as if it was perfectly normal.

Eleanor watched the two of them, her heart sinking. It wasn’t that Duncan objected to her physical touch; it was just that his affection was reserved solely for Gwendolyn.

“Eleanor, are you feeling alright?” Duncan asked, concern etching across his features.

She merely shook her head, not trusting herself to speak.

Stuart, witnessing Gwendolyn's affection on full display, couldn’t help but frown. “What are you two doing here?”

Gwendolyn adopted that soft, flirtatious tone. “I just got back to town. A little jet-lagged, so Duncan came with me to get checked out.”

Eleanor couldn’t suppress her inner thoughts, “And here I thought Duncan was genuinely worried about her health. Turns out it was just a little travel fatigue.”

She felt completely out of place and longed to escape this scene of intimacy and camaraderie. “Grandpa, I’m feeling a bit tired. Let’s head home.”

Duncan hesitated, wanting to check on her, but Gerald’s voice cut through. “Alright, let’s go.”

Eleanor offered no parting words as she assisted Gerald, leaving Duncan and Gwendolyn behind.

Duncan meant to offer them a ride home, but Gerald simply waved him off, a gesture indicating he wanted no part of it.

After Stuart escorted Gerald and Eleanor out, he turned to Duncan and Gwendolyn, a serious look on his face.

“Duncan, you’re pushing your luck. You and Eleanor aren’t divorced yet, and here you are cozying up to your ex,” he admonished. “Kingsbridge Medical Hall isn’t just a random place—everyone’s watching.”

With those words lingering in the air, Stuart walked away.

Duncan’s heart sank at the reality of the situation. He turned back to Gwendolyn, shaking off her hand. “If the doctor says you’re fine, we should get going.”

“Duncan... you’re not going to take me home? I just arrived, and I’m still getting used to everything. It’s a little scary being alone at night; can’t you stay with me?”

Eleanor’s blank expression haunted him now, making him feel irritable in Gwendolyn’s presence. “I’ll have a driver take you.”

He dialed the car service, unable to bear Gwendolyn's disappointed look and quickly excused himself.

“Wait here; I’ll be back,” Duncan said, barely glancing at her as he slipped away.

Gwendolyn watched him leave, her eyes clouded with resentment. How dare he move on? She wouldn’t let that happen.

Placing a hand on her stomach, she muttered under her breath, “Duncan, you’re going to take responsibility for this.”

Returning alone to Willow Manor, Eleanor declined Gerald’s offer to join him at Fletcher Keep, too drained to deal with any more drama from the Fletcher family. Gerald understood, urging her to call if she needed anything.

Solitude enveloped her in the empty house. She pulled out her phone and texted her best friend Natalie Kingston, “Can you come pick me up?”

Moments later, her phone buzzed with a call from Natalie. “What’s up? Why are you out so late? Is everything okay?”

Overwhelmed by emotion, Eleanor burst into tears.

Natalie’s voice turned urgent. “I’m on my way! What happened? Tell me everything.”

Eleanor struggled through her sobs. “Duncan wants a divorce. His ex-girlfriend is back, and now he doesn’t want me anymore.”

Hearing that, Natalie slammed on the brakes, nearly losing control of her car. “What the hell!”

Regaining her composure, she sped down the road, and in less than ten minutes arrived at the entrance of the villa.

As she stormed into Willow Manor, bathed in fury, she took one look at Eleanor, who was a mess on the couch, and her rage intensified. “You should be crying over that jerk! You’re too good for this. He’s the blind one, missing out on a catch like you!”

Eleanor was undeniably beautiful, with an alluring hourglass figure, porcelain skin, and striking amber eyes. She had turned heads back when they were still on campus, unlucky enough to end up married to Duncan and subjected to Fletcher family drama.

But now, the door was open for a better future.

Eleanor hugged Natalie tightly, seeking comfort. “Natalie, I’m pregnant.”

“What? You’re not keeping it, are you?”

“Duncan’s made it clear he doesn’t love me. I can't anchor myself with this baby. It wouldn’t be fair to either of us.”

“Right decision, definitely. You’re young. Let’s focus on getting you sorted out first.”

With determination, Natalie marched into the bedroom, gathering Eleanor's things. Eleanor only took her clothes and toiletries, leaving behind every token Duncan had given her.

“That’s how it’s done—take what you need, let go of the rest,” Natalie encouraged. “We’ve all been there with a jerk like him.”

Meanwhile, at Fletcher Keep, Duncan discovered Eleanor had already gone back to Highrock Villa. Upon returning to their shared home, the sight of the half-empty closet left him rattled.

He tried calling her, only to be met with the grim message: the number was disconnected.

With worry twisting in his gut, he wondered where she could possibly be. He’d meant to ask one of her friends, but the truth hit him—he didn’t even know who they were.

An unsettling emptiness settled over the room, and he realized he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d lost something far more precious than he had intended.

Chapter 5

**Complete Disillusionment**

Eleanor Winters hadn’t been in touch for three whole days.

Duncan Fletcher had scoured every possible place she might be, yet he found nothing. Panic fluttered in his chest, a relentless gnawing that pulled him under.

Then, in the early hours of the morning, his phone rang. It was Eleanor.

“Eight a.m., Council of Civil Affairs,” she said, her voice steady and emotionless. Before he could respond, the line went dead.

A day earlier, Gwendolyn Greenwood had cornered Eleanor at The Silver Hearth Tavern.

Right off the bat, Gwendolyn dropped a bombshell: she was pregnant, and Duncan was the father.

Eleanor felt the world tilt on its axis. She could hardly believe it, but Gwendolyn pulled out a doctor's report that confirmed her pregnancy—she was already further along than Eleanor had thought possible.

“Here, take a look at this,” Gwendolyn said, handing over her phone.

Eleanor’s heart raced as she stared at the picture on the screen: a naked couple tangled together under a rumpled blanket. The man’s back was turned, but Eleanor knew who it was—the familiar silhouette, undeniably Duncan. And the woman? No doubt about it—Gwendolyn.

A chill swept through Eleanor, deep and suffocating. It was as if she had stepped into a freezer.

Then Gwendolyn twisted the knife deeper. “You think he wants to marry you? The only reason he agreed to this—” she gestured dismissively with her hand, “—was because my family wouldn’t accept me. He did it to ease Gerald's conscience.”

“Six months ago, he came back to me. He visits every month,” she continued, satisfaction gleaming in her eyes. “This picture’s from France, two months ago, when he got me pregnant.”

Two months prior, Duncan had told her he was off to Europe for work.

Now, it felt like she'd been living a lie. Every late-night embrace, every sweet word exchanged, all reduced to mere performance. He’d been playing a part.

“Do you know why you haven’t gotten pregnant in two years?” Gwendolyn asked, her voice sickly sweet.

Eleanor locked eyes with her. “What do you mean?”

“Duncan’s been giving you fertility medicine. It has a side effect—temporary birth control,” Gwendolyn said, an almost mocking smile on her lips.

Fear washed over Eleanor, bitter and sharp. She recalled the pills he had handed her not long after they married. They were supposed to help her health, but little did she know, they were keeping her from the one thing she yearned for.

It all clicked—the way he had reassured her, telling her they could wait, it wasn’t urgent. The truth was she’d been hoodwinked all along.

She was nothing but a fool, convinced being the perfect wife, both in and out of bed, would secure his love.

Gwendolyn chuckled lightly, “We’re getting married next month, just so you know. Duncan asked me to tell you, so you don’t mess with our plans. I’m not about to let my baby bump steal my moment in a wedding dress.”

With that, Gwendolyn left, a self-satisfied smirk plastered on her face.

Eleanor’s heart felt like it was in a vice, pain radiating through her entire being. She hardly remembered how she made it back to Natalie Kingston’s place.

Lying in bed, swathed in blankets and bathed in warmth, she still felt cold—bone-deep, soul-crushing chill.

Years of living like an idiot flashed before her; it hit her then—she needed to escape this hell. No more Duncan. She was done.

The next morning, she stood outside the Council of Civil Affairs, heart pounding with resolve. Gwendolyn was there too, unexpectedly.

“You made it. Duncan had an emergency meeting at four a.m., so he might be running late,” she said nonchalantly. “Want to grab breakfast while we wait?”

Eleanor caught the slyness in her voice. Duncan must have been eager to see Gwendolyn again—nothing less than predictable.

“Gwendolyn.” She leveled her gaze at her. “I’m here to tell you, no matter what, I won’t be the needy ex-wife clinging onto you both. Your life with Duncan is none of my business.”

“The two of us can grab breakfast if you want, but let’s be real—no one is going to enjoy it. You’re here for him, I’m here for him. There’s no need for forced civility.”

The calmness in Eleanor's voice took Gwendolyn aback. She was anticipating a confrontation, but instead, Eleanor stood firm, poised.

“I’m not trying to be confrontational. I actually think you’re pretty cool,” Gwendolyn said, her tone softer. “You’ve been with Duncan for two years now. I just want to understand him better, you know? Care for him right.”

“Like you care for him,” Eleanor scoffed. “If you want to know what he likes, you’d be better off asking him directly. My life with Duncan is closed to you.”

Suddenly, Gwendolyn lunged at her, and Eleanor sidestepped, avoiding the charge. Gwendolyn stumbled and fell hard.

That’s when Duncan pulled up, his eyes wide as he rushed to Gwendolyn.

“Gwendolyn, are you okay?” he knelt beside her, concern etched on his face.

Eleanor's heart flipped—a bitter twist as she watched him fuss over Gwendolyn, ignoring her entirely. It stung more than she ever thought possible.

But then, Gwendolyn winced, clutching her abdomen. “Duncan, it hurts. I think something’s wrong with the baby.”

“Let’s get you to the hospital,” he said, lifting her gingerly in his arms. And just like that, he was gone, leaving Eleanor on the ground.

Heat burned in her chest, but it was no match for the intense pain, abdominal tightness that gripped her. She felt warmth pooling beneath her.

Panic set in, and she fumbled for her phone, dialing Natalie—but it went straight to voicemail.

With her breath coming in shallow gasps, she reached for Stuart Stewart’s number. After what felt like an eternity, someone picked up.

“Stuart,” she cried, voice breaking, “please, come get me. I’m at the Council of Civil Affairs—I think… I think something’s wrong with the baby.”

There are limited chapters to put here, click the button below to continue reading "Shadows of a Broken Promise"

(It will automatically jump to the book when you open the app).

❤️Click to read more exciting content❤️