---- Chapter 29 Jennings escorted Michael through a side entrance, not the grand main door. He was led through service corridors, a subtle but clear indication of his diminished status. He was dripping, disheveled, a stark contrast to the understated elegance of the Hayes estate. Jennings offered him a towel and a change of clothes - simple, clean garments that belonged to one of the groundskeepers. Another quiet humiliation. When Michael was finally deemed presentable enough, he was shown into a vast, sun-filled drawing-room. Liv stood by the large bay window, silhouetted against the raging storm outside. She was more beautiful than he remembered, her pregnancy giving her a luminous, almost ethereal quality. She turned, her expression unreadable, cold. "Michael," she said, her voice devoid of any warmth, any recognition of their shared past. It was the formal address one might use for a distant, unwelcome acquaintance. He saw her elevated status, the effortless grace with which she inhabited this opulent world. He saw the way the staff deferred to her, the protective presence of Elizabeth in the background. ---- He saw other men in the room, distant Hayes family relatives or friends, handsome, well-dressed, looking at Liv with admiration. He was a pathetic creature in comparison. His lingering delusions of reconciliation, of winning her back with his charm, shattered. The pain of that realization was profound, cutting deeper than any anger or financial ruin. He had not just lost her love; he had lost her respect. He had become an object of her cold indifference, perhaps even her disgust. "Liv," he began, his voice hoarse. "Thank you for seeing me." She didn't reply, just watched him, her gaze unwavering, chilling. He felt small, insignificant, a beggar pleading for scraps from a queen. His fear of her final judgment was a palpable thing.