The Neglected Wife Is A Hidden Genius

Kevan Sanders didn't move from the doorway. His gaze locked onto Iona, dissecting her. He didn't offer a smile, a nod, or a single word of comfort.

"What do you want from the Vance family?" His voice was low, flat. It wasn't a question from a potential husband; it was an interrogation.

Iona met his stare. She didn't flinch. "A name. A safe place to live." She paused, her thumb pressing hard into her index finger. "In return, I will play the role of Mrs. Sanders perfectly. I will make Eleanor happy, and I will stay out of your way. Completely."

Kevan's eyebrow lifted a fraction of an inch. He had expected tears, demands, or a sob story. He hadn't expected a business pitch.

"Kevan!" Eleanor scolded. "Don't be rude."

Kevan ignored his grandmother. "My lawyers will draft the agreement. The terms will be strict."

"I accept," Iona said instantly.

The silence stretched for three seconds. Kevan nodded once. "Fine. When you're discharged, we go to City Hall." He turned and walked out, his footsteps fading down the hall.

Eleanor sighed, squeezing Iona's hand again. "He's not as cold as he seems. Give him time." She promised to handle the legal details and hurried after him.

The door closed. Iona let out a long, slow breath. Step one was complete.

She picked up the phone again. This time, she dialed Eric's number. It rang twice.

"Iona?" Eric sounded annoyed. "Look, I'm busy, can we-"

"We're done, Eric."

There was a beat of silence. Then a condescending laugh. "Baby, don't be dramatic. I know you're upset about the river thing. I'll come by later."

"You don't seem to understand," Iona said, her voice deadpan. "The engagement is off. My lawyer will contact you tomorrow regarding the five hundred thousand dollars you took from me for your 'investment'."

The amusement vanished from Eric's voice. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? That was a joint venture!"

"I'm pulling out. Have the money ready." She hung up. She didn't slam the phone down; she placed it gently on the receiver.

She dialed the Harmon estate. Martha answered.

"Martha. Pack my things. Send them to the Hollis house. Tell Preston and Miranda I'm moving out."

Before the housekeeper could respond, Iona disconnected the call.

A nurse walked in, holding Iona's personal cell phone. "Your former family's assistant brought this."

As soon as the screen lit up, it exploded with notifications. Texts from Eric, ranging from wheedling to threats. Voicemails from Veronica, sickly sweet and probing.

Iona's thumb moved methodically across the screen. Block. Block. Block. Delete all.

She leaned back against the pillows, closing her eyes. The girl who had craved their love was dead. She was Silas now. And she had work to do.