I will marry you for a billion dollars

Chapter 4

When I woke up the next morning, the first thing I noticed was the empty space beside me. The sheets were cold, his side untouched as if he had never even been there. For a moment, I lay there staring at the ceiling, the silence so heavy it pressed on my chest. I thought maybe he had gone to shower, maybe to grab coffee, maybe…anything. But the longer I waited, the clearer it became, he was gone. Just gone.

By the time I got back to my apartment, the reality sank in deeper. No message, no call. Not a single word from Ethan. My new place was quiet, too pristine, too large for me alone. I almost welcomed the knock when it came the next morning, a sleek black car idling downstairs with a driver waiting. He said Ethan’s assistant had arranged another shoot. I didn’t argue. Work, even fake work, was better than spiraling.

The studio smelled of hairspray and too-bright lights. They pulled me into makeup, into a gown, into a scene where I was meant to be the glittering wife. And then he walked in. Ethan. Perfectly pressed suit, tie loose like he owned the air he breathed. My stomach twisted as his eyes skimmed over me like I was nothing unusual.

“Ready?” he asked, tone clipped.

I tried to steady myself. “About last night—”

He cut in with a dry laugh, one corner of his mouth tilting. “You’re not still thinking about it, are you?”

My breath caught. “What?”

“It was s*x, Evelyn. That’s all.” He shrugged, as if the memory of my trembling hands and breathless whispers had meant nothing. “Don’t tell me you’ve confused it for anything deeper.”

I cleared my throat, trying to let the hurt show, “Well yesterday, you seemed to deeply want me.”

He barely glanced at me, “I was horny, Evelyn. That was my d**k thinking.”

Ouch.

It hit like a slap. My throat burned but I forced a brittle smile, nodding as if he hadn’t just shattered something I didn’t even want to admit I’d been holding. “Right.”

The rest of the shoot blurred. I posed, smiled when told, leaned into him when instructed. My body played along but my heart iced over. Every time his hand touched mine, I wanted to flinch. When it ended, I didn’t wait for him, I didn’t look at him. I simply walked out.

Two nights later, he came to my apartment. I opened the door and stood there with my arms crossed, blocking his way.

“The hell are you doing?”

“You’re not welcome here,” I said flatly.

He scoffed, “Evelyn—”

“The contract states this apartment is mine. If I want you gone, you’re gone. So leave.”

He looked me over, expression hardening. “Is this about the s*x? Why are being immature about it?” He stepped closer, “You're not a kid. People f**k and move on—”

I slammed the door in his face before I could burst into tears then.

I don't care what other people did, I wasn't other people!

Sex wasn't just s*x and he knew that!

Ethan’s POV

God, what an immature woman.

Who gets that emotional over a simple f**k?

At first, I didn’t care. She was just another arrangement, another face to stand beside mine. If she wanted space, fine. I gave it.

But after two days of her silence, her cold indifference began to gnaw at me. At night, I found myself replaying the look in her eyes when I had laughed at her. Not broken, but wounded. Wounded because of me.

By the third night, I couldn’t take it anymore. I used my key. The lock clicked and I stepped inside, the apartment dim and still. She was curled on the couch, half-asleep, a blanket wrapped tight around her. Long black hair in a curtain around her head, she looked…beautiful.

Immediately her eyes blinked open when I closed the door and she sat up immediately. “What are you doing here?” Her voice was rough from sleep.

I didn’t answer. Instead, I crossed to her, crouched in front of her. She looked so small, so fragile, like she was still bracing for another blow. My chest tightened.

“Evelyn—”

“Get out, Ethan. You can't just…just break in here this wasn't part of the contract, you can't—”

“I was cruel,” I interrupted quietly. “I shouldn’t have laughed at you.”

She didn’t speak, but her eyes shimmered. A tear slipped down her cheek and I reached up, wiping it away with my thumb.

“I don't care, you hear? I don't care if you think I'm immature…” more tears fell.

“I'm sorry,” I sat next to her and gently pulled her into my arms and surprisingly she moved in with a sob, “So sorry..”

“You’re beautiful, Evelyn,” I murmured. My lips followed the trail of her tears, soft against her cheek, her jaw, her neck. She trembled, hands clutching at my shirt.

I kissed her like I should have that first night, reverent, aching. My hands slid down her arms, slowly peeling away her clothes, not rushing this time. I wanted to see her, to memorize her, to feel her against me without the armor of sarcasm or indifference. She didn’t push me away. She pulled me closer. By the time we stumbled to the bed, nothing else mattered.

Evelyn’s POV

I woke to an empty bed. The sheets were still warm but the space beside me was empty and it felt like my heart dropped into my stomach. I sat up, clutching the blanket, fighting the panic that rose so quickly I could hardly breathe. He left. He really left.

The sound of the lock turning made me jolt. I scrambled off the bed just as the door opened and Ethan stepped in, holding a bouquet of flowers and a paper bag. Relief hit me so hard I nearly cried. I ran to him and threw my arms around his chest.

“I thought you left,” I whispered, pressing my face against him. “I didn’t know if you would come back.”

His arms came around me slowly, firm and steady. “Why wouldn’t I come back?” he said softly. “You’re still my wife, right? We still have what we’re doing. Don’t step back now and try to act like nothing happened.”

I pulled back enough to look up at him, my throat tight. “But after the hotel, after the way you left me… I thought maybe—”

“I meant what I said last night,” he interrupted gently. “I was wrong before, Evelyn. I shouldn’t have laughed at you. I shouldn’t have walked away. I’m sorry. And I’m not going to do it again. I won’t leave you twice.”

My chest ached. “So you… came back with flowers?”

His lips lifted faintly. “Flowers, yes. But also breakfast. Donuts without cream. I know you hate the ones with filling, so I told them no cream.”

A laugh broke out of me, weak but real. “You remembered that?”

“I notice more than you think,” he said. “I also got coffee, though I wasn’t sure how you liked it, so I brought a few options.”

“You thought of all that?”

“I told you. I’m not leaving again.”

I smiled at him, unable to stop myself. The smallest, simplest things and yet they made my chest feel too full. How long had it been since someone thought about what I wanted? How long had it been since someone cared enough to remember?

He was still talking, telling me how crowded the bakery had been and how he had to argue with someone for the last box of donuts. His words blurred. My heart was pounding too hard.

“Evelyn,” he said, noticing I wasn’t answering.

I swallowed hard. The words slipped out before I could stop them. “I love you.”

Silence.

His eyes widened. My breath caught. I hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

“I… forget I said that,” I stammered quickly, my face hot. “I think I need coffee. I’ll go make us coffee.”

I stepped back from him, avoiding his gaze, and turned away before I could see what was written on his face.

We ate breakfast in silence after that, and I couldn’t even look him in the face.

At ETS, work became my escape. I threw myself into sketches, fabric samples, schedules, anything that could drown out the ache in my chest. The office buzzed with life, machines humming, designers arguing over color palettes. For the first time in weeks, I felt like I belonged somewhere.

Until the day David and Abbey walked in with their manager.

I froze, my pencil slipping across the page. Their laughter filled the space before they even noticed me. Abbey was dressed to be seen, a glittering jacket catching the light, her hair in waves that screamed hours of preparation. David’s arm rested lazily across the back of her chair as their manager pitched them to the team.

“Big names deserve big opportunities,” the manager boasted. “You won’t find more dedicated talent than these two.”

I kept my head down, but I should have known Abbey would notice me first. Her smirk sharpened the moment her gaze landed on me.

“Evie?” Her voice dripped with mock surprise. “OMG hiiii.”

David chuckled, leaning back. “Didn’t expect to see you here. What, fetching coffee for someone?”

I straightened slowly, refusing to shrink. “I work here.”

The look on their faces almost made the pain worth it. David faltered, his easy smile slipping. Abbey’s smirk cracked, though she fought to keep it intact.

“You?” Abbey tilted her head. “Working here?” She gave me a once-over, her eyes deliberately landing on my plain blouse. “Doing what? Folding fabric? Sweeping floors?”

“I manage the designer team,” I said evenly.

Abbey’s laugh was brittle. “Well, look at you. Climbing the corporate ladder in… what, borrowed heels?”

I raised an eyebrow and scoffed. “Seriously? That's the best you got?”

David shifted uncomfortably, but Abbey pressed on. She leaned closer, lowering her voice just enough.

“Tell me, Evie, where’s that shiny ring you flashed at me the last time we crossed paths? Oh, wait.” Her gaze flicked to my hands. “You still have it, don’t you? Or did your mysterious husband get tired of you already?”

Heat rushed up my spine, but instead of folding, I lifted my hand, letting the ring catch the office light. “You mean this one?” I asked sweetly, tilting it just so. “Still on my finger. Still mine.”

Abbey’s jaw tightened. “Hm. Rings don’t mean much these days. Anyone can buy a diamond.”

“True,” I said, sliding the ring higher on my finger, “but not everyone has a husband who knows people in high places.”

Her brow arched. “High places?”

“Mhmm,” I said simply, gathering my folder. “Excuse me, I’m going upstairs.”

“Upstairs..” it was the Manager that gasped them. Then I heard him explain that upstairs was the executive floor and to even be there meant I did know people in high places.

The executive floor was quiet compared to the chaos below. I leaned back against the cool wall in the corridor, exhaling slowly. I hadn’t come up here for any real reason, only to have the last laugh. Let Abbey stew on that. Let her wonder.

But when I turned, my breath caught. Ethan was there, standing at the end of the hall, speaking with a group of assistants who scattered the moment he dismissed them. He walked toward me, his expression unreadable.

“Ethan?” My voice wavered. “What are you—”

“Business reasons,” he said shortly, as if reading my mind. His eyes swept over me before softening. “Have you eaten?”

“I…”

“Lunch,” he said, no room for argument. “Let’s go.”

I blinked, still trying to process the sight of him here, in the very building I thought was my sanctuary. “Now?”

“Yes. Now.” He adjusted his cuff, already stepping past me. “And while we’re at it…” He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes catching mine. “Have you ever thought about being a model?”

I blinked.

“A model? Uh..” I followed after him, “No, not really…I mean yeah but it's never actually happened..why?”

The next morning, I woke to pounding at my door. When I opened it, a flood of people rushed inside—stylists carrying garment bags, photographers setting up lights, makeup artists rolling in cases of supplies.

I stumbled back, clutching my robe. “What is going on? What are you doing in my apartment?”

A woman with a headset and a too-bright smile clasped my hands. “Oh honey, you’re Ethan’s wife? He wasn’t kidding. You’re gorgeous. We’re here to take care of you. Big day ahead.”

“Take care of me?” I repeated, stunned.

“You have a photo shoot,” she said like it was obvious.

“A photo shoot?” My heart stuttered. “No, no, Ethan isn’t even here.”

She laughed. “Sweetheart, Ethan isn’t the model—you are.”

My knees nearly buckled. “Me?”

“Yes, you,” she said, already tugging me toward the chair. “And you don’t need to worry about a thing. Just let us work our magic.”

Before I could argue, I was surrounded. Brushes swept across my skin, pins tightened in my hair, gowns draped over my frame. Cameras flashed, voices encouraged me, the day spiraled into glittering chaos. Somewhere between silk dresses and jeweled heels, I caught sight of myself in the mirror. I looked… beautiful.

I texted Ethan a picture, my fingers trembling.

What did you do?

A moment later, my phone buzzed.

Enjoy your day.

When I called, breathless and overwhelmed, his voice was steady. “Just have fun, Evelyn. That’s all I want.”

So I did. For hours, I laughed, posed, tried on clothes I never would have dared to touch. The team hyped me up, clicking away as if I were born for this. Every time I glanced at my phone, Ethan had replied to something—a heart emoji, a short *you look incredible,* a reminder to keep smiling.

As I was reviewing photos, the woman with the headset leaned over my shoulder. “Would you look at that? You already have competition. Abbey Chan’s posting about you.”

My stomach flipped. “What?”

“She’s tagging you, trying to drag you down.”

A stylist waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t reply. Just post more. Make it hurt.”

“That’s even better,” another chimed in. “She’ll eat herself alive watching you shine.”

The team laughed, lifting their phones to upload more of my pictures. I didn’t even stop them. For once, I didn’t feel like the shadow. I felt like the spotlight.

By evening, exhaustion settled into my bones as they began packing up. My apartment was a mess of gowns, makeup palettes, and champagne glasses. I sank into the couch, still glowing from the whirlwind.

Then the door opened, and Ethan stepped inside, carrying a pizza box. His eyes swept over me slowly, and a faint smile touched his lips. “I saw the pictures.” He set the box down, his voice dropping. “You look gorgeous.”

Heat rushed to my cheeks. I ducked my head, hiding a smile I couldn’t suppress. He didn’t mention the night I’d confessed, didn’t act like anything had changed between us.

Not until the last person left and silence filled the apartment. Then he turned to me, his eyes unreadable.

“You need to travel with me,” he said.

I blinked. “Travel? Where?”

His gaze softened, but his tone stayed firm. “To meet my family.”

Shock froze me in place. “What?”

He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “You’re my wife, Evelyn. It’s time they meet you.”