Chapter 3

This time last year, I'd suffered an ectopic pregnancy and hemorrhaged, rushed to the hospital by ambulance.

The doctor needed a family member to sign consent forms. I dialed Ethan's number over and over again.

But the voice on the other end was always: [Sorry, the number you are calling is currently unavailable.]

I almost died on that operating table.

How did he explain it afterward?

He said he'd been playing golf with a very important client, and his phone was in a locker in the changing room where he couldn't hear it.

He held my hand at my hospital bedside, crying harder than I was, swearing he'd make it up to me twice over.

I believed him.

I dragged my weakened body through those most difficult days.

But it wasn't until last month, when I checked his phone, that I discovered the truth.

That day, he hadn't been with any important client at all.

He'd been at a hot spring resort in the next city over, celebrating Vivian's twenty-fourth birthday.

He'd posted something on his social media, visible only to Vivian: [May my girl always smile like a flower.]

Meanwhile, his wife had been lying in a pool of her own blood, signing her own critical condition notice.

"And now you're telling me she's pitiful?"

I stepped closer, staring into his eyes.

"She bought insurance with my money, booked hotel rooms with my money—where exactly is she pitiful?"

"The truly pitiful one was my child who never even formed before dying!"

"The truly pitiful one is me—the fool you've been playing for a fool!"

Ethan backed up a step under my advance.

But there wasn't a trace of guilt on his face—only extreme irritation at being exposed.

"Charlotte, can you stop bringing up old history!"

He yanked at his tie in frustration, his tone dripping with cold rationality.

"The doctor said the ectopic pregnancy was because of your poor health—it was a matter of probability!"

"You insist on blaming Vivian for this. Do you think that's fair?"

"Besides, I didn't know you were in trouble. If I'd known, wouldn't I have come back?"

My breath caught.

Poor health. A matter of probability.

With one casual sentence, he'd erased all his cold-bloodedness and betrayal.

He'd even shifted the blame onto me.

I looked at his face, twisted with anger, and suddenly felt he was a complete stranger.

Was this the same boy who, back in college, would run two kilometers through the snow just to buy me a cup of hot milk tea?

No. He wasn't.

The moment he climbed into Vivian's bed, that Ethan had died.

The thing standing before me now was just a selfish monster who'd lost every last shred of humanity.

"Ethan, you make me sick."

I spat out each word, looking at him like he was trash.

My gaze stung him.

He raised his hand as if to strike me, but ultimately stopped mid-air.

"Fine, Charlotte. You're so noble, so great."

He ground his teeth, pointing at me viciously.

"Since you can't tolerate her, I'm going to the hospital right now to bring her back here."

"Let's see what you're actually going to do to me!"

Just then, his phone in his pocket suddenly buzzed frantically.

The custom ringtone sounded particularly grating in the dead silence of the hallway.

Ethan pulled out his phone, glanced at the screen, and his previously violent expression instantly softened.

He answered the call, deliberately gentling his voice.

"Hey, Vivian, don't be scared. I'll be right there..."

From the other end came a saccharine, obviously tearful female voice.

"Ethan, don't worry about me. I don't care if I die of pain in this hospital."

"Go back and make things right with Charlotte. Please don't let me damage your marriage..."

I let out a cold laugh.

"Playing innocent? I've seen how wild you get on top of my husband!"

"Charlotte! Watch your mouth!"

Ethan reacted like a dog whose tail had been stepped on, covering the phone's microphone and roaring at me.

I completely ignored his impotent rage, stepped forward, and before he could react, snatched his phone away.

Too fast for him to stop.

I hit the speakerphone button and turned the volume to maximum.

Vivian's sobbing echoed clearly through the living room.

"Charlotte... is that really you?"

Her voice was so fragile it seemed a breeze could knock her over, with just the right amount of grievance and panic.

"Please don't be angry at Ethan. This is all my fault. I shouldn't have bothered him after work hours."

"But I'm alone at the hospital getting an IV, and the needle infiltrated—my hand is so swollen. I'm really scared..."

"I just wanted someone to talk to. I really didn't mean anything else. Please believe me, okay?"

Listen to that! How clever!

Every sentence an apology, every sentence a declaration of war against me.

She was telling me: See? Your husband's heart is with me. I just crook my finger and he abandons you to come running.

Ethan hopped around anxiously beside me, reaching to grab the phone back.

"Charlotte, give me back my phone! Didn't you hear her hand is swollen!"

I dodged his hand and spoke coldly into the microphone.

"If your hand's swollen, call a nurse. Why are you looking for my husband? Can he remove your IV or suck out the swelling?"

"Didn't you keep saying you don't want to wreck my family?"

"So why are you sending ambiguous texts in the middle of the night? Are your fingers not controlled by your brain, or do you just naturally enjoy digging through other people's garbage for your meals?"

The crying on the other end suddenly stopped.

Vivian clearly hadn't expected me to tear off the facade so directly.

In the past, to preserve Ethan's dignity, I'd always tried to maintain appearances.

But now? I didn't want this man anymore. Why should I save face for her?

"Charlotte, how can you say that about me..."

Vivian's voice carried obvious embarrassment and anger.

"Ethan and I just have a spiritual connection. We never meant to hurt you."

"Love doesn't follow a first-come-first-served rule. The one who isn't loved is the real third party. Why can't you understand that?"

I almost laughed at her twisted logic.

"Spiritual connection? Was that on the hotel bed or on the yoga mat?"

"Vivian, do you think being a homewrecker is something to be proud of?"

"Believe me or not, tomorrow I'll post videos of all your 'connections' to your yoga studio's client group and let everyone see how pure you really are."