The Nation's President Picked Me Up From Prison-Chapter 34: Elyn: Divorce is Not an Option

"What do you plan to do?" Greg asks.

Honestly, I’m not sure. I’m holding myself together with stubbornness.

But one thing is clear. I don’t want Logan’s company to fall apart.

"I’m going to the shareholders’ meeting tomorrow," I say when the silence stretches too long. "I’m telling you this now because there’s a good chance everything about my unregistered marriage to Logan and the inheritance issue will blow up soon."

My shoulders sag as the weight of it presses down. "I honestly don’t know where this is going... but I just want to protect the business Logan maintained with all his efforts. I can’t watch it crumble. And if you think my association with Hansley Group, this whole mess, can damage our arrangement..."

I pause. My throat tightens.

But this needs to be said.

"...should we just terminate our contract?"

His stare hits me like a sudden drop in temperature, cold enough to freeze a raging volcano mid-eruption.

Heat rushes up my spine, somehow making the chill worse. My fingers pinch against each other beneath the table, trying to anchor myself.

Greg looks... menacing. There’s an unspoken threat in the way his eyes sharpen.

I blink and scramble mentally for better words, something less catastrophic.

"I mean, look at everything happening to me," I rush on. "Do you really think my story is still the one you need for your First Lady? Once the public knows about the inheritance issue and that my marriage with Logan wasn’t even legal, they’ll drag my name through mud. And there’s a chance I’ll face lawsuits from Logan’s relatives. We’re talking about billions. People will contest the legitimacy of the will. They’ll say I don’t deserve any of it."

"So you want us to divorce, then?" he asks quietly.

Quiet, but cold. His face is carved blank, grim, and unreadable.

And honestly... what choice does he have? Our arrangement is a mess now. Partnering with me will bring him more trouble than benefit.

I exhale. "Wouldn’t that be the safer choice for you?"

His eyes narrow, subtle annoyance flaring there now, unmistakable.

"If you want to keep the shares and deal with Hansley Group, then deal with it. Once the noise dies down and you’ve settled everything on your end, we can announce the marriage."

I freeze.

Wait.

He... doesn’t want a divorce?

The realization flickers across my face, apparently too visibly, because his expression shifts from displeased to something almost offended.

"What do you expect me to do?" he asks sharply. "I’ve already made a significant investment in this. You expect me to let you go without any return on investment?"

He sounds snobbish. Irritated. Almost insulted.

Well... of course.

It clicks the moment I look at him properly.

Greg isn’t the type of man who admits he’s wrong or that he miscalculated. He doesn’t do failure. He forces his decisions into being the right decisions, even if it means dragging them across fire until they bend. That must be why he’s holding on, because he wants to prove to himself that choosing me was strategic, that he isn’t a man who picks poorly.

If he commits to something, he will force the universe to agree with him.

So of course he won’t let this go.

For him, abandoning a decision would mean admitting he was wrong.

"But doing that will delay your plans," I say gently, trying to make him realize what I’m seeing.

"Finding another woman is more hassle at this point," he replies, deadpan.

I blink. "Do you really need to get married just to have a compelling story for publicity? I believe you are resourceful enough to find another—"

He turns a glare on me so sharp it cuts the rest of my sentence clean off.

I clamp my mouth shut.

A slow, dangerous smirk plays on his lips. Nothing is warm about it. It’s the kind that makes people shift in their seats, wondering if they’ve just stepped into a trap.

"Are you sure," he murmurs, "that you can’t fix your mess? Or are you simply using it as an excuse to terminate the contract?" His gaze dips, assessing, taunting. "After all, you already got your end of the bargain: your freedom, and your name is no longer tied to a murder case."

My mouth falls open. "T-that’s not true! That’s not why—"

Greg leans forward, elbows resting on the table, his presence expanding until it presses against my skin. His eyes lock onto mine with an intensity that makes my spine straighten.

"Then how," he asks softly, dangerously, "am I supposed to be sure?"

My fingers twist beneath the table, nails biting into my palm.

"Because I’m not trying to escape anything," I say. "I told you because I don’t want you dragged deeper into my problems. You pulled me out of hell once already. I don’t need you to burn for it."

His eyebrow lifts. "So you’re protecting me now?"

My chest tightens with embarrassment.

"I don’t want any protection, Elyn. I am capable of doing that myself."

"But what if you’ve miscalculated? What if you’d end up regretting and blaming me if your plans failed?"

His jaw ticks—so quick and small, I almost miss it.

"Regret comes from incompetence," he says coolly. "And I don’t make incompetent decisions."

Can’t he try to be a human for a second? I admire his confidence, but let’s face it, no one can be that perfect.

I clear my throat. "Still... I don’t want you stuck with a liability."

His glare flashes again, sharper this time. "If I thought you were a liability, I wouldn’t have approached you in the first place."

"You think," he continues, voice lowering, "that I didn’t anticipate complications? That I chose someone fragile enough to crumble at the first hit?" His gaze sweeps my face once, slow and deliberate. "I don’t make decisions like that."

Heat prickles under my skin, part fear, part something else I can’t name.

"I’m just trying to keep both of us from taking unnecessary damage."

"You think I’m worried about damage?" he asks.

I hesitate. "...You should be."

A ghost of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. It feels like being examined by a predator who finds your bravery intriguing.

"If I were worried," he says, "I wouldn’t be here."

My heart gives a hard, uneven thump.

"And if you were the type to be crushed by pressure," he adds, "you wouldn’t be sitting across from me right now."

I exhale shakily. "I’m just trying to make the smart choice."

"Then try harder," he replies, voice quiet but edged with authority. "Because suggesting divorce..." His eyes lock onto mine, unblinking. "...is not it."