Once Loved, Now Forgotten: No Love Left for You, Hubby! 1

Chapter 1
“It’s been an eternity since we’ve stolen a moment like this…” Logan Barrett’ voice flowed like liquid silk, his lips grazing the tender curve of Eleanor Preston’s ear with a warmth that belied the chill in the air. The room, bathed in the soft glow of morning light filtering through heavy drapes, seemed to hold its breath, as if reluctant to disturb the fragile intimacy between them.
“Logan, I need to go to the hospital now…” Eleanor’s words trembled as she turned her face away, evading the kiss he sought to claim. Her voice carried the weight of urgency, a quiet plea wrapped in exhaustion.
“Just this once!” Logan pressed, his tone edged with a playful insistence that masked a deeper selfishness. His breath lingered against her skin, a fleeting promise of closeness she couldn’t afford to indulge.
Time stretched taut, an invisible thread pulled to its breaking point, quivering with the tension of unspoken needs. Eleanor felt the world tilt beneath her, a dizzying swirl of light and shadow threatening to pull her under. Only when faintness clawed at the edges of her vision did Logan relent, his arms loosening their hold with a reluctant sigh.
“Did I hurt you?” His voice, a rich timbre that could soothe or wound with equal ease, danced between genuine concern and a teasing lilt. He tilted his head, dark eyes glinting with mischief. “How about I make it up to you with the latest designer bag? Something exquisite, just for you.”
Eleanor’s lashes fluttered as her eyes opened fully, locking onto his. Before her stood a man whose beauty was almost otherworldly—features chiseled as if by a master sculptor, sharp jawline softened only by the faintest curve of his lips. Even now, his usual air of cool detachment lingered, though it was laced with the embers of passion still smoldering from their recent closeness. Three years of marriage had taught her to read this look: satisfaction glimmered in his gaze, a quiet triumph that explained his sudden generosity.
Her lips twisted into a bitter smile, the taste of it sharp on her tongue. “Did you forget? I haven’t completed my sentence.”
“Then you can use the bag when you’re free,” Logan replied, his tone as casual as if he were commenting on the crispness of the morning breeze. He leaned back, arms crossing with an effortless grace that made her chest ache.
The words struck her like a physical blow, tightening her lungs until each breath felt like a struggle. He spoke of her imprisonment so lightly, as though it were a trivial detour rather than a chasm that had swallowed years of her life.
“You’ll be released from prison soon, won’t you?” His fingers brushed her cheek, a gesture so practiced it felt rehearsed, yet it stirred a flicker of longing she couldn’t suppress. “I told you before—one year would pass in the blink of an eye.”
Eleanor swallowed hard, the lump in her throat a jagged stone. Her hand caught his, clinging to it as desperation bled into her voice. “The hospital called me… They said my grandmother isn’t doing well. Please, Logan—come with me to visit her.” Her eyes searched his, pleading for a shred of the warmth she’d once believed he could offer.
She couldn’t leave freely, not while still bound by her sentence. But good behavior had earned her this single day of reprieve, a fragile gift she’d intended to spend at her grandmother’s side. Her plan had been simple: rush to the hospital the moment she could. Yet doubt had crept in—her disheveled state, the faint pallor of captivity clinging to her skin. She’d feared it might distress Clara Whitmore, her frail, beloved grandmother, whose gentle heart had always seen beauty in her no matter the circumstances. So she’d returned home to freshen up, only to find Logan there, fresh from a business trip abroad, his presence an unexpected storm that swept her plans aside.
She’d ached to leave for the hospital immediately, but Logan had rooted her in place. His insistence had been unrelenting, his desires consuming the morning hours until time slipped through her fingers like sand. Still, a quiet hope flickered within her—if he came along now, his presence might coax a smile from Clara, a fleeting joy to lighten her waning days.
But in the next heartbeat, Logan withdrew his hand, the warmth of his touch vanishing like smoke. Eleanor’s heart plummeted, a stone sinking into the depths of a cold, endless sea.
“I’ve got something to do this afternoon. You can go alone.” His words sliced through her hope without a trace of hesitation. Rising, he crossed to the bedside drawer, retrieving a sleek black card and extending it toward her. “Use this to buy something nice for your grandmother.”
The gesture was painfully familiar—Logan’s answer to every problem was money, a glittering balm for wounds he refused to see. But Eleanor knew Clara craved no lavish trinkets. What her grandmother yearned for, with every fragile beat of her heart, was to witness them together, a united front of love and family. That dream, it seemed, would remain unfulfilled.
Logan showered and dressed with the efficiency of a man unburdened, leaving without so much as a backward glance. Eleanor rose slowly, her legs trembling beneath her as if the morning had drained the strength from her bones. She steadied herself, then turned to the kitchen, packing a small container of homemade food—simple, hearty dishes Clara had always cherished more than any store-bought luxury. The act grounded her, a tether to the woman who’d raised her with unwavering love.
When she stepped into Clara’s hospital room, the sight before her froze the blood in her veins. The bag slipped from her grasp, tumbling to the floor with a dull thud as a cry tore from her lips. “Grandma!”
Clara had weathered countless hospital stays, her illness a relentless shadow, but never before had a ventilator’s mechanical hiss filled the air. The stark white of the room seemed to close in, amplifying the terror that gripped Eleanor’s heart. She stumbled to the bedside, her voice quaking with dread. “Grandma, I’m here! Please, open your eyes and look at me!”
Clara’s weathered lids trembled open, a faint spark of life glowing in her faded eyes. “Eleanor, you’re here…” Her voice was a whisper, fragile as a leaf clinging to an autumn branch.
“Grandma, what happened?” Eleanor’s words spilled out in a frantic rush, panic clawing at her chest. “The nurse said you were just unwell, that you missed me. Why does it look so much worse?”
“I asked her not to worry you too much.” Clara’s lips curved faintly, a ghost of her old warmth. “Eleanor, I think my time is running short.”
“No! That’s not true!” Eleanor’s hand flew to Clara’s face, trembling fingers brushing papery skin as she scanned her grandmother’s fragile form. The truth settled over her like a shroud—Clara’s light was fading, slipping away with every shallow breath. Tears blazed hot trails down Eleanor’s cheeks, her heart fracturing under the weight of impending loss.
“Life and death are old companions, Eleanor. Don’t cry.” Clara’s frail hand lifted, brushing away a tear with a tenderness that pierced Eleanor deeper still. “Having you as my granddaughter has filled my life with joy. I only worry about how you’ll fare when I’m gone.”
“Grandma, please stay with me!” Eleanor scrubbed at her tears, forcing a brightness into her voice she didn’t feel. “I’ll be out in a month. Then I’ll never leave you. You always wanted to go back to our hometown, remember? Once you’re better, we’ll go together.”
“That would be lovely.” Clara’s gaze softened, infinite love shimmering in her eyes. “Bring Logan, too.”
Eleanor’s heart clenched, but she nodded with fervent determination. “Of course. He wanted to come today, but urgent business pulled him away.” The lie tasted bitter, but she couldn’t bear to dim Clara’s hope.
“Work always comes first.” Clara’s hand slipped beneath her pillow, retrieving a half-moon pendant of luminous jade, its surface etched with the delicate form of a bird. She pressed it into Eleanor’s palm, her grip weak but resolute. “Keep this safe, Eleanor. It’s your—”
The door swung open, cutting Clara’s words short. Logan’s towering figure filled the threshold, his dark suit accentuating the elegance of his every movement, a stark contrast to the sterile room. Joy flared in Eleanor’s chest, chasing away her tears. “Grandma, look! Logan came to see you!”
But as he drew closer, something in his expression snuffed out her fleeting relief. The cool mask he wore so effortlessly had fractured, replaced by a rare unease that furrowed his brow. “Eleanor, Riley needs an immediate blood transfusion.”
The words pierced her like a blade, shattering the fragile hope she’d clung to. She’d thought his worry was for Clara, but no—it was for Riley Dawson, his childhood love, the flame that burned brighter than any other in his world. Eleanor’s pain was an old, familiar wound, reopening with brutal precision.
“My grandmother is dying here. I can’t leave her,” she said, fighting to keep her voice steady. “Can’t Riley use the blood bank?”
“It’s a rare type—none’s available here, and the nearest supply is an hour away. She won’t last that long.” Logan’s hand closed around her wrist, unyielding as iron. “Eleanor, her life’s on the line. You have to come now.”
“I won’t leave her! Let go!” Eleanor twisted against his grip, but his strength overpowered her desperate struggles.
“Eleanor…” Clara’s voice, faint and faltering, reached for her. “I never told you about your parents. The truth is, you—”
“Grandma!” Eleanor’s cry echoed as Logan dragged her from the room, Clara’s unfinished revelation lost to the closing door.
Protocol capped blood donations at 400 milliliters, but Logan demanded double, his urgency leaving no room for argument. When it was done, Eleanor sat ghost-pale and shivering, the world a blur around her. Still, she forced herself upright, leaning heavily against the wall as she stumbled back to Clara’s room, each step a battle against her own frailty.
What awaited her shattered her anew—the ventilator silent, Clara’s still form draped in white. Eleanor’s legs buckled, sending her crashing to the floor as grief stole the air from her lungs. Tears refused to come; she crawled forward on trembling limbs, reaching for Clara’s lifeless hand. “No… Grandma… Don’t leave me…” Her voice broke, drowning in waves of desolation that threatened to swallow her whole.
“My condolences, Eleanor.” Logan’s voice cut through her sorrow, detached and steady as ever. “Riley’s stable now. Thank you for your help… By the way, the prison expects you back immediately.”