Chapter 2

Nathan had no answer for that. That air of total control he always carried --- it shattered in an instant.

The tension in that corner was suffocating. The air itself seemed to stop moving.

He grabbed my wrist and squeezed, hard enough to grind bone.

The pain was sharp and immediate. But I didn't struggle.

I couldn't even feel it, really. Inside, there was nothing but a cold, flat calm.

He forced the words out through clenched teeth, low and barely controlled.

"Say that again. The person who matters most to you?"

I lifted my free hand and gently smoothed the angry crease between his brows with my fingertips.

My touch was light. My tone stayed soft, stayed innocent.

"Honey, you're hurting me."

I looked into his bloodshot eyes and handed his own logic right back to him.

"You always said --- when a good friend gets hurt, you bring them close and take care of them. Just like you've been taking care of Chloe."

"Ethan has nowhere to go right now. I can't just ignore that."

My words fed the fire in his eyes. But he couldn't find a single thing to say back.

Because every word I'd just said was something he'd once told me --- his own personal gospel, used to shut me up.

Then, from upstairs, came the soft sound of Chloe coughing.

It wasn't loud. But it landed like the flip of a switch.

"Nathan..."

Her voice pulled his attention off me like a magnet.

He glared at me with pure resentment, but the grip on my wrist loosened without him even realizing it.

The rage and possessiveness in his eyes --- when they met my perfectly steady gaze --- flickered for the first time with something he didn't know how to handle.

I understood it completely then. Nathan's love had always been built on two things: my total submission, and the certainty that I belonged only to him.

My resistance --- even this imitation of his own behavior --- was a betrayal he couldn't stomach.

Chloe coughed again. More urgent this time.

Nathan finally let go of my wrist and spat out his parting words.

"Nina, don't push me. Get him out of this house."

Then he turned and took the stairs two at a time, back to his first love.

I watched him go. Not one ounce of hurt. Just the cold, detached satisfaction of a plan's first step falling into place.

His limits?

I rubbed my reddened wrist and let out a quiet, humorless laugh.

What limits? That only you get to play the devoted hero, while I'm supposed to play the heartless villain?

That's not how this works.

I didn't bother with his threat. I didn't spare a glance at the staircase.

I turned and walked into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, and pulled out fresh ingredients.

Then, slowly and deliberately, I began making a pot of beef and vegetable soup for Ethan in the guest room.

The soup bubbled and steamed, filling the kitchen with warmth.

Half an hour later, Nathan came back downstairs in a fury after calming Chloe down.

He probably expected me to be crying. Or raging. Or at least still standing there waiting to finish the fight.

Instead, he found me walking gracefully toward the guest room with a bowl of hot soup.

He opened his mouth to start in on me, but I turned around at exactly the right moment --- like I had eyes in the back of my head.

I gave him a flawless, picture-perfect "devoted wife" smile.

"Honey, would you like a bowl too? I don't want to disturb Chloe's rest, so I'll drop this off for Ethan and head to bed."