Frank Atwater’s fingers trembled almost imperceptibly as they rested on the back of Elissa Drummond’s hand.
For a moment, it seemed as if he’d heard some dark joke; a hollow laugh escaped him. “I know you’re still angry with me, and I don’t expect you to forgive me anytime soon. But don’t say things like that.”
He wasn’t about to get a divorce now—and truth be told, the thought had never even crossed his mind before.
The idea that they could already have divorce papers finalized was unthinkable.
He had all the patience in the world. He’d give her time, coax her, wait until her anger simmered down.
He could never take her words at face value when she was upset. But seeing the seriousness in her delicate features, a wave of unease spread restlessly through his chest.
Elissa wasn’t surprised by Frank’s reaction. She didn’t rush or even seem to notice the tremor in his touch. Calmly, she drew her hand away and said softly, “You can ask your mother if you don’t believe me. She handled it herself. Your copy of the papers is still with her.”
“Impossible!”
Frank’s denial was automatic. He shot to his feet, all long limbs and looming presence, suddenly towering over Elissa with an intensity that was hard to ignore.
But Elissa didn’t so much as flinch. Her voice remained as even as before. “I told you. Ask your mother.”
Her composure was absolute.
Just like every time before.
Frank fought to keep his irritation from boiling over, staring at her for a long moment.
He realized he’d never seen her lose control.
Never once had he seen her cry.
He used to appreciate that about her—her obedience, her quietness, her gentle nature. She never caused a scene, never shed tears or made a fuss.
She was always dignified, always rational.



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