Ethan stood tall in black pants and a white shirt, casually leaning against the Maybach. A cigarette smoldered lazily between his fingers, smoke curling around his face, blurring his expression in a ghostly
haze.
Ashley Whitmore hesitated, curled her fingers slightly–but didn’t refuse.
It was her first time riding in his car. The front passenger seat clearly belonged to Lila Bennett–everything was pink and out of place. A throw pillow printed with their wedding photo was perched on the seat, radiating ownership.
A bitter ache rose in Ashley’s chest. She gently moved the pillow to the back.
So even the elite had their own simple kind of romance. Yet he hadn’t even wanted to take a picture with her in ages.
They drove in silence. Ethan took her to a high–end restaurant.
Ashley had once seen this place featured on TV. She used to love its European décor, the chef’s elegant plating. Ethan once said he’d save up to bring her here for their anniversary.
Now she was finally here. But it wasn’t their anniversary. And there was no joy–only the feeling of pins and
needles under her skin.
Ethan flipped open the French–only menu and ordered fluently. He laid out the napkin in his lap with
practiced elegance before looking up at her.
“When did you find out who I really am?” he asked calmly, his tone devoid of love–or guilt.
Under the table, Ashley clutched the hem of her skirt. She thought of Lila’s dramatic complaints earlier
that day, swallowed the pain, and said,
“When I saw you this afternoon.”
Ethan nodded. He poured her a glass of red wine.
“As long as you behave–and don’t make a scene in front of Lila, I might let things stay the way they are.”
W–What?
Ashley stared at him, stunned. It took her a few seconds to find her voice.
“You want me to be your mistress?”
“Mistress?” Ethan scoffed.
“I don’t love you. I’m not even the slightest bit attracted to you.”
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He swirled the wine glass between his fingers. The deep red liquid spun in mocking rhythm.
“You gave me your loyalty, and I repaid it. That’s all this ever was. But now there’s no need. Half a million dollars–does that square us?”
His tone was casual. He sipped his wine as if it meant nothing.
Ashley felt a sharp stab in her chest. Even though she had braced for it, his words still cut deep.
So in his eyes, she wasn’t even worth being a mistress.
“What about our marriage certificate?” she asked, biting her lip, refusing to give up.
“A fake identity from a man with amnesia. What makes you think a piece of paper like that means anything?” Ethan frowned, unable to hide the disdain in his eyes.
“The feelings I had while I was ‘amnesiac‘? Those were real. So was the debt I owed you,” he said.
“But my true identity matters. You and I aren’t from the same world. If no one had exposed the truth, I would’ve kept the act going.”
“But now… I don’t want Lila to get hurt.”
Tears welled in Ashley’s eyes. She dug her nails into her palm, willing herself not to cry.
What she had treasured–he had only ever seen as a passing act of charity. Their relationship had meant.
nothing to him.
Fine.
Then there was no reason for her to cling anymore.
She bit on her lip hard, tasting blood, forcing the tears to retreat.
“Fine. Half a million. That settles my saving–your–life debt.”
She wasn’t going to walk away empty–handed–not when she had paid the price.
To cover his medical bills, she had worked three jobs on top of her clinic work. She had even sold her
father’s heirloom watch.
If they were ending, it would end clean.
Ethan gave a satisfied nod.
“I’ll have my lawyer draw up a contract. Eat–you always said you wanted to try this place.”
So he brought her here… on purpose?
For a moment, something flickered in Ashley’s chest. But she shoved it down quickly.
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Ethan gave a satisfied nod.
“I’ll have my lawyer draw up a contract. Eat–you always said you wanted to try this place.”
So he brought her here… on purpose?
For a moment, something flickered in Ashley’s chest. But she shoved it down quickly.
He had already said it–he didn’t love her.
She picked up her knife and fork, head bowed, sawing through the steak like it was him.
The silence in the room was so thick, she could hear her own heartbreak. Her knuckles turned white
around the knife, struggling to suppress the ache inside.
She had known how this would end–yet it still hurt so much she could barely breathe.
Just then, Ethan’s phone rang.
The ringtone was Lila’s syrupy voice.
“Baaaby, pick up the phone!”
It only rang once before Ethan answered.
“Don’t worry, babe–I’m coming now.” His expression shifted immediately, tight with worry.
He stood up, then suddenly turned back, yanking Ashley from her seat.
“You’re coming with me!”
Ashley didn’t know what was happening. All she saw was a man–usually calm and composed–now visibly anxious. She didn’t refuse. She followed him all the way to the hilltop mansion.
“You’re a therapist. Lila had a nightmare. She’s crying. Do something. Make sure she doesn’t cry again!”
He dragged her here… just because of a nightmare?
Still in a daze, Ashley was shoved into Lila’s bedroom. The girl was sobbing into her pillow, her
tear–streaked face delicate and pitiful.
The moment she saw them, Lila paused–then threw herself into Ethan’s arms, ignoring Ashley entirely.
“Baby, I’m scared. In my dream, you didn’t love me anymore…”
Ethan held her gently, setting her on the bed. His eyes brimmed with tenderness,
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“T’ll never leave you. Don’t be silly. You’ve always been the one in my heart. Forever.”
He unbuttoned his collar, revealing a tattoo beneath his left collarbone–an ornate letter Y. It was something he had inked after marrying Ashley.
“This heart was inked for you.” He guided Lila’s hand to the tattoo, his eyes full of adoration–so intense it made Ashley’s vision blur with tears.
All this time, she thought the Y stood for Yun–short for Ashley’s Chinese name.
She had been so touched, so moved, crying as she secretly dabbed ointment to help it heal.
She’d scolded him for being reckless, for loving her too much.
But now? He must’ve been laughing at her naivety.
Her chest tightened with unbearable pain. She turned to leave.
“Didn’t you hear me?” Ethan’s voice turned cold.
“I said–comfort her.”
Ashley stopped. Rubbed her stinging, burning eyes.
“I’m sorry. I don’t owe her that.”
“You don’t want your father’s heirloom back?” Ethan’s voice was ice, laced with warning.
“You found the watch?” Ashley froze.
She turned to meet his gaze–those clear, cold eyes held none of the warmth or affection they once did.
Her chest ached. She clenched her fists.
Finally, she gave in.
And walked slowly toward the bed.
Chapter 2
