Chapter 4

Natalie's POV

The annual charity gala was high society's most watched social event.

As head of Foster Group, Ethan always attended with me in previous years.

I'd prepared for this for half a month, even turning down an important translation conference just to walk the red carpet with him.

On the afternoon of the gala, I changed into the starlight blue haute couture gown Ethan had personally selected for me half a month ago.

The skirt swayed with glittering starlight.

I sat at my vanity, waiting for Ethan to come home and pick me up.

Time ticked by until only one hour remained before the gala started. Only then did Ethan's call finally come.

"Natalie, you don't need to go to the gala tonight."

On the other end, Ethan's voice was calm without a ripple.

My grip on the phone tightened sharply.

"Why?"

"Aria just got back to the country and needs to reintegrate into this circle. Tonight's gala is a good opportunity. I'm taking her."

Ethan said matter-of-factly.

"You never liked these social obligations anyway. Stay home and rest."

My heart felt like it had been struck by a heavy hammer, the pain making my vision go black.

"Ethan, I'm your legal wife."

My voice trembled slightly as I struggled to maintain my last shred of dignity.

"You're taking your ex-girlfriend to this kind of public event. What does that make me look like? What do you take me for?"

"It's just walking a red carpet. Don't be so sensitive."

Ethan's tone carried a trace of impatience.

"Aria's very fragile right now. She needs my support. Be reasonable and don't make this difficult for me."

With that, he hung up without hesitation.

Listening to the busy signal on the phone, I looked at myself in the mirror, dressed to the nines, and suddenly felt utterly ridiculous.

Be reasonable.

These three years, I'd been too reasonable. That's why he thought I was an object he could knead at will and discard at any time.

At eight PM, the gala officially began.

I sat on the living room sofa and turned on the television.

On screen, they were broadcasting the red carpet segment live.

When Ethan's car stopped at the red carpet entrance, the scene's camera flashes blazed like daylight.

The car door opened. Ethan stepped out first, then gentlemanly extended his hand.

A slender, pale hand placed itself in his palm.

Aria Sinclair wore a pure white haute couture gown, looking like a proud white swan as she took Ethan's arm and gracefully walked up the red carpet.

They looked so well-matched.

The reporters at the scene instantly erupted.

"Mr. Foster, is this beautiful lady your new companion?"

"Mr. Foster, there are rumors you've rekindled your romance with your first love, Aria Sinclair. Is it true?"

"Mr. Foster, why didn't your wife Natalie attend tonight? Is there a crisis in your marriage?"

Facing the reporters' rapid-fire questions, Ethan neither denied nor explained.

He simply turned his head slightly to look at Aria beside him, the corner of his mouth curving into an indulgent smile, then escorted her into the venue under the bodyguards' protection.

That one look said more than a thousand words.

My phone suddenly vibrated.

A message from Aria Sinclair.

In the photo, Aria leaned on Ethan's shoulder. They both held champagne glasses against the backdrop of the gala's luxurious interior.

The caption was just one short line.

"Miss Sullivan, I've taken back what belongs to me."

I didn't reply or angrily smash my phone.

I simply pressed the lock button calmly and tossed the phone aside.

When all expectations have been crushed into mud, all that remains is absolute clarity.

I stood up, returned to the bedroom, and pulled out the suitcase from under the bed.

It was time to end this absurd farce.