Chapter 3

"Ethan!"

Chloe shrieked.

Instinctively, Ethan shoved me backward with immense force.

My hand slipped from his collar, and my back slammed violently against the concrete stairs. A piercing, sharp agony radiated up my spine.

Chloe rushed forward and kicked my stomach several times while screaming in mock terror. Then, she quickly covered her mouth, gasping dramatically.

"Elena! Oh my god, is that you? Were you eavesdropping on us?!"

I bit down on my lip until I tasted blood, paralyzed by the sheer pain.

Through the haze, I saw Ethan reach out, as if wanting to help me up, but Chloe grabbed his arm tightly.

"Don't touch her, Ethan! She's hysterical! What if she hurts me and our baby?!"

Just like that, Ethan took a step back, wrapping an arm around Chloe, watching indifferently as I lay sprawled on the cold floor.

My heart shattered into a million pieces.

Gathering every ounce of breath I had left, I rasped:

"What did I ever do to deserve this from either of you?"

I had given them everything.

I spent sleepless nights organizing financial portfolios for Ethan’s firm, drinking until I vomited blood at business dinners just to secure multi-million-dollar deals for him. I never complained once.

When Chloe was in danger, I emptied my savings of $15,000 to hire local rescue teams. Even after losing my baby and my fertility, I never blamed anyone.

Ethan stared down at me. After a long silence, he crouched down and wiped the cold sweat from my forehead.

"Elena, you charged in out of nowhere and scared us. We didn't mean to hurt you. Chloe even helped adjust our wedding plans today out of the goodness of her heart. Stop making a scene."

I stared at him in disgust. "By adjusting my wedding, you mean sleeping with my fiancé and getting knocked up behind my back?!"

Chloe burst into theatrical tears, dropping down and grabbing my wrist, violently slamming my hand against her own stomach.

"Blame me! It's all my fault! I couldn't control my feelings! Take it out on me, Elena, just don't ruin things with Ethan!"

I kept my hand completely limp, refusing to react to her performance.

Seeing that I wasn't buying it, Chloe scrambled up to the top of the concrete steps, sobbing hysterically.

"Elena! If I jump right now, whether I live or die, will you forgive us?!"

"Go ahead," I said coldly. "Jump."

I knew damn well a narcissist like Chloe would never jump.

Yet Ethan, who was kneeling near me, snapped his head up. His eyes were cold, treating me like a complete stranger.

He leaped up, took the stairs two at a time, and gathered Chloe protectively into his arms.

He kissed her forehead, her eyes, and her trembling lips, murmuring sweet nothings over and over to calm her down.

He didn't spare me a single glance. Without another word, he scooped Chloe up into his arms and carried her away.

They left in a hurry, leaving Chloe’s designer phone behind on the concrete step.

I picked it up, staring at the screen for a long time.

I needed closure.

I tried unlocking it. Ethan’s birthday was wrong. Chloe’s birthday was wrong.

Finally, with shaking fingers, I typed in the exact date the three of us first met.

Click. The phone unlocked.

The lock screen was a selfie of Ethan wrapping his arms around Chloe from behind while she flashed a peace sign, their cheeks pressed tightly together.

I opened her SnapChat and clicked on her thread with Ethan.

Endless messages. Paragraphs of daily banter that stretched back months.

Two days ago, Ethan had sent her a screenshot of a text from his father: [My dad agrees we make a much better match.]

I clicked on it. It was from Ethan's father—the very same man who held my hand last week, praising me for landing an eight-figure corporate contract and calling me his ideal future daughter-in-law. Now, he was telling Ethan to take good care of Chloe.

Scrolling up, I saw a text Chloe sent in the middle of the night, whining about feeling alone in the world as an orphan. By 10:00 AM the next morning, Ethan had sent her a signed legal document transferring 10% of his firm’s net profits—worth nearly $5 million annually—straight to her trust.

Every single day, they flirted, shared intimate moments, and built a life behind my back.

I pulled out my own phone and placed it side-by-side with hers.

My chat with Ethan consisted entirely of short, dry work demands from him, followed by massive spreadsheets and financial audits sent by me.

We didn't look like lovers at all. We looked like a cold boss and an exploited employee.

I had earned him hundreds of millions without asking for a dime, while he handed Chloe a $5 million yearly allowance just because she whined.

I wiped the cold tear from my cheek.

It was fine.

I was leaving this nightmare behind.