Chapter 2

Vivian POV

I don't know how I left. When I came to my senses, I was standing by the shore.

Not far away, on the deck of a speedboat at the harbor, stood two familiar, striking figures.

The woman wore a fire-red halter dress, her arms intimately wrapped around the man's neck, practically hanging off him.

The man stood tall with sharp features, wearing a dark shirt, one hand loosely around her waist as he looked down, teasing her about something.

That man. Who else could it be but Ethan?

And the woman in the red dress in his arms...

Even from a distance, I could never mistake her. It was Fiona.

I stood there frozen, my mind drifting back to three years ago when I was forced to move into that old building. Fiona had brought several socialites to find me and pressed me hard against the filthy ground.

Fiona crouched beside me, slapping my face until it swelled red, saying with smug superiority,

"Vivian Hayes, bet you never saw this coming. Now it's your turn to fall."

"In the past, you were so high and mighty. No matter how much I flattered and fawned over you, you looked down on me and gave me attitude. Did you ever think you'd have a day when I'd be stepping on you?"

"Looking at you now really makes me feel good."

That was when Ethan found me.

Seeing me humiliated by Fiona and the others, his eyes looked murderous, as if he wanted to tear them apart.

After driving Fiona and her group away, he pulled me up and held me tight, saying over and over,

"I'm sorry. I came too late."

My phone suddenly buzzed with a message notification, interrupting my memories.

I took it out.

On the screen was a message from Ethan:

"Vivian, I have an important business dinner tonight with some overseas clients. Don't wait up. Get some rest."

I stared at those words, then looked up toward the speedboat.

Ethan tossed his phone onto the cushions beside him, then lowered his head and kissed Fiona as she tilted her face up.

The scene pierced my chest like a sharp blade.

Three years ago, after Ethan drove Fiona away and took me from that old building, I saw him as my salvation, the only plank of wood to cling to while drowning.

But now, that plank had grown thorns, tearing me bloody.

The hand that once pulled me from the mire was now personally pushing me into an even deeper abyss.

Why, Ethan?

Why did your affair have to be with Fiona, of all people?

After returning to the Bayshore villa, I found a baseball bat and, filled with rage and pain, destroyed the entire living room.

The next day when Ethan came home, this was the scene that greeted him.

All the vases were shattered into countless pieces, lamps toppled over, cups, plates, fruit bowls, magazines, and flowers scattered across the floor.

The entire living room had become a wasteland overnight, so chaotic there was barely room to step.

And I lay motionless on the couch in the ruins.

Ethan didn't know what had happened.

"Vivian?"

Thinking something had happened to me, he rushed over anxiously and worried.

I was startled awake. My lashes fluttered as I slowly opened my eyes.

"You're home."

Seeing me open my eyes and wake up, Ethan breathed a sigh of relief.

"What happened?"

He helped me sit up, crouching in front of me, puzzled.

"Why does the house look like this? Did someone break in?"

"No."

I said flatly,

"I smashed it."

Ethan looked stunned.

"...You?"

I didn't answer. My eyes rested on his handsome face.

"Why are you only coming home now?"

Guilt flashed through his eyes. Ethan tugged at his tie and said,

"I drank too much with clients last night, so I crashed at a nearby hotel."

I looked at him and smiled.

"Is that so?"