If Only You Were the One Who Died

Ethan hated Natalie. Hated the way she used dirty tricks—falsely accusing him of s****l assault just to force him into marriage. Hated how she turned him into a laughingstock. For two years, he did everything he could to humiliate her, determined to make her life a living hell. Natalie knew how much Ethan despised her. After all, she had driven away the woman he loved and forced him to marry her. She carried the weight of that sin, accepting every bit of cruelty he threw her way—just so she could keep looking at the face that was identical to her first love's. Until the day they found out—her first love's death had been caused by Ethan. That moment, Ethan knelt before her, his eyes filled with desperation as he looked at her bandaged wrists, his voice trembling, almost pleading. "Natalie… can we start over? I was never in love with someone else. I only said that to hurt you. If you'll let me, I… I can be the replacement of your first love for the rest of my life." Natalie looked at him and smiled—a smile so heartbreakingly beautiful, yet utterly shattered. "If only you had died instead of him." Ethan's face drained of color, as pale as the hospital walls around them. ***** Outside the grand Carter Estate, Natalie Hayes stood still, her slender fingers gripping her phone. The glow from the screen cast a cool light on her delicate features. Her gaze was locked on a group chat filled with messages from the city's wealthy heirs. A newly uploaded photo had sent the chat into a frenzy. A: Ethan's been MIA for a whole month after his wedding, and now he's back—with another woman? The man knows how to have fun. B: We all know how his marriage happened. That woman tore him away from his girlfriend. She's nothing but a desperate, scheming gold digger. Natalie ignored the insults, her attention fixed on the image. It was a blurry, secretly taken shot. The man was only captured from behind—a tall, lean figure standing straight. The woman’s face was partially visible, revealing more than half of her features. She bore a slight resemblance to her—about fifty percent alike. Their eyes met in the photo—his gaze lowered, hers lifted, the moment between them charged with emotion. The chat exploded with excitement. A: A match made in heaven! Absolute perfection! Of course, they didn't forget to throw in a few more insults about a certain "shameless woman" who tricked her way into marriage and ruined a love meant to be. The tragic lovers in the photo? Her husband and his supposed true love. And the shameless woman? That would be her. Natalie's expression didn't change. She didn't even need to see the man's face—she already knew who he was. Her emotions flickered for just a moment before vanishing completely. As for the insults? She didn't bother reading them. They were everywhere. Every time she picked up her phone in the past month, she saw the same words. She was used to it. Besides, they weren't entirely wrong. She was born a curse. Everyone who got close to her met a terrible fate. Shutting off her phone, Natalie stepped into the estate without hesitation. This grand mansion, a wedding gift to Ethan from his family, sat against the backdrop of mountains and water, spanning nearly 10,000 square feet. No one had expected that the woman moving in with Ethan wouldn't be his beloved, but her. No one had expected their marriage to be built on coercion. This was only the second time Natalie had stepped foot in the mansion since their wedding night. The household staff barely reacted to her arrival. They continued about their work, indifferent. Inside these walls and beyond them, no one acknowledged her as Mrs. Carter. To them, she was a joke. Natalie pulled her coat tighter around her shoulders and entered the main house, her expression unreadable. She had already gotten what she wanted. The rest didn't matter. ***** The man people were all gossiping about was already in the living room. Ethan sat there, his striking features ice-cold, his aura distant and unapproachable. Natalie could already imagine his tone from the text message he had sent her earlier that day. Ethan: Mrs. Carter, don't forget to welcome your husband home tonight. Cold. Mocking. Every word designed to cut deep. He wanted to remind her—constantly—of the disgrace she had become. Ethan's gaze flicked toward her as she stepped inside. Annoyance flashed through his eyes before he quickly masked it with a detached smirk. "Well, well. Mrs. Carter, you sure like to keep me waiting. What was it? You forgot you were married until the dead of night?" His voice dripped with sarcasm. "Or did you find another rich bachelor today? Planning to dump me and force your way into someone else's life?" His last words came out sharp and bitter, his temper slipping for just a moment. Leaning back against the couch, he crossed one leg over the other, a cigarette lazily resting between his fingers. Smoke curled around his face, his expression unreadable—except for the faint trace of resentment when his gaze landed on her. Natalie's brows furrowed slightly. She hated seeing him smoke. She hated the way those lips carried the taste of cigarettes. But through the haze of smoke, she saw that face again—the one she had longed for. And just like that, her displeasure vanished. She smiled softly. "Ethan, you're home." No matter what he did, no matter how cruel he was to her—she could never bring herself to be angry at him. She just wanted to love him. To give him every ounce of tenderness she had. Ethan let out a low chuckle, full of scorn. Even with that photo causing a storm online, she could still act like nothing had happened. Just how thick was this woman's skin? He took a slow drag of his cigarette, then flicked his fingers in a beckoning motion. "Come here." Natalie hesitated only for a second before stepping forward. The closer she got, the faster her heart pounded. That face, blurred in her memory, was becoming clearer with every step. She reached out instinctively, wanting to trace his features. But before she could even lift her hand, Ethan grabbed her wrist in a vice-like grip and yanked her forward. Caught off guard, she stumbled toward him, nearly falling into his arms. But just before she could touch him, he shoved her back. Her body barely had time to register the push before his grip shifted to her chin, his fingers pressing in just hard enough to hurt. Before she could even process his expression, a cloud of smoke was blown directly into her face. Natalie coughed violently, her lungs burning. By the time she caught her breath, Ethan was watching her with amusement. "So, Mrs. Carter," he mused, his voice dripping with mockery. "How does it feel sitting in the seat of yours?" He took another drag, exhaling the smoke away from her this time. Natalie met his gaze head-on. Same face. Same breathtaking features. But so, so cold. She smiled brightly. "It feels great." Ethan's smirk faded. He crushed the cigarette into the ashtray. In an instant, he had her pinned against the couch, his chest hovering dangerously close to hers. His fingers lifted her chin, tilting her face up as he studied her carefully. Such a beautiful face—completely at odds with the scheming mind beneath it. "Good," he said, "Then make sure you enjoy it while it lasts. Don't waste all that effort you put into getting here." Natalie's lips curved ever so slightly, her voice a whisper, trembling with emotion. "Okay." Nine months. It had been nine months since she had been this close to this face. The disappointment from that blurry photo was gone. Ethan chuckled lowly, his voice dark and slow. "I've never met anyone as shameless as you." His lips curled. "Do you remember what I told you on our wedding night?"