Chapter 3
763 Words
Lily finally broke.
She shoved Rosie into Ethan's arms, dropped to her knees in front of me, and pressed her forehead to the floor.
"Ms. Weston, this is all my fault! Ethan has nothing to do with it! I'm the one who pursued him. You're the only one he's ever loved! We'll leave. I'll take Rosie and leave this city right now. You'll never see us again!"
She was shaking so hard she could barely speak. Ethan bent down to pull her up but couldn't budge her.
He raised his head, eyes bloodshot, staring straight at me.
"Harper, will you only be satisfied when you've driven us to our graves? What do you want?"
"I'm driving you to your graves?"
I laughed. But the tears came on their own, completely beyond my control.
Rosie was terrified by the scene. She suddenly reached out, flailing to grab at me.
"Stop being mean to my mommy and daddy! Bad woman!"
I was wearing heels. I lost my balance and stumbled back two steps. My lower back slammed into the sharp corner of the shoe cabinet.
A vase toppled off the cabinet and crashed against me. I gasped at the pain.
A second later it shattered at my feet.
Rosie was still swinging her little fists.
Instinctively, I raised my hand to push her away.
Before it could land, Ethan was already in front of her.
My palm connected squarely with his face.
A red handprint bloomed across his fair skin. His expression didn't change—just cold, flat detachment.
"Hit me, scream at me, do whatever you want. Don't touch my daughter."
Lily screamed and lunged for him. The whole scene spiraled out of control.
Ethan shoved me hard.
"Enough! Harper, you're a cold-blooded machine! All you've ever cared about is your career. You don't understand anything else!"
I hit the floor. My right hand landed in the broken glass from the vase.
Pain radiated from my palm through my entire body, like someone was carving out my heart with a dull blade.
Ethan scooped up Lily, who was nearly unconscious from crying, held Rosie in his other arm, and walked out the door without looking back.
I gripped the shoe cabinet and pulled myself up. I walked to the window.
Down below, I watched him start the Tesla I'd bought him, smooth and practiced, and drive away.
The blood on my right hand had already begun to dry.
I dialed my lawyer.
"Mr. Whitfield, I need you to draft a divorce agreement."
Back home, I cleaned and bandaged the wound clumsily with my left hand.
The lawyer called back.
"Ms. Weston, with the current evidence, getting him to walk away with nothing will be difficult. We need to dig deeper."
"However long it takes. I just want this done."
After I hung up, I took down every wedding photo on the walls and stuffed them into a trash bag.
I sold every car in his garage.
When Ethan came back, I pushed the trash bag in front of him.
He stared blankly at the contents.
"What is this supposed to mean?"
I stood on the stairs, looking down at him.
"Go back to your other home."
His fists clenched. His chest heaved.
Finally, he picked up the bags from the floor.
"Fine, Harper. Don't come crying to me later."
*****
The next morning, I went downstairs.
The kitchen was cold and dark. The dining table was bare—none of the carefully prepared breakfasts I'd grown used to.
I opened the fridge, took out a carton of milk, and heated it myself.
The bland taste reminded me of what he'd said yesterday.
Maybe it was because I'd relied on him so completely at home that he was so sure I couldn't function without him.
But I was making enough money now to hire a dozen housekeepers.
He, on the other hand, I'd kept him in such comfort with my money for so long that he'd forgotten who he was without it.
I called building management and had every door code and fingerprint lock in the house reset.
That afternoon, Ethan called, his voice practically exploding through the phone.
"Harper! Someone trashed Lily's flower shop! Was that you?!"
In the background, I could faintly hear Lily crying.
"Ethan, just let it go. This is our fate..."
"Don't be scared. This isn't over!"
I leaned back in my office chair and swiveled once.
"Ethan, if you're having delusions, see a doctor. Stop bothering me."
I hung up.
But I didn't expect him to actually go nuclear.
- Writer
