Chapter 1
No sooner had Ethan Miller finished speaking than Blair Lynn walked over, a glass of red wine in her hand and false concern pooling in her eyes.
"Ivy, you look so pale. Are you feeling unwell?"
I stared at her disgustingly fake face, then darted my gaze to the naked man in the painting behind her. A wave of hot nausea surged up my throat.
"Ivy?" She called my name again and reached out to steady me.
I flinched back from her touch on pure instinct.
I spun on my heel and bolted.
The click of high heels echoed across the marble floor, quick and frantic, like someone running for dear life.
Faintly, I heard Ethan's voice drift from behind me. "Go keep the guests entertained. I'll go check on her."
I didn't slow down.
I couldn't even remember how I got home.
The second I stepped through the door, my eyes locked straight onto the oversized wedding photo hanging in the entryway.
I didn't hesitate for a second. I ripped it off the wall and slammed it hard onto the floor.
Shattered glass went flying everywhere. One sharp shard sliced across my calf.
Blood came gushing out instantly.
It burned.
But at least the pain cut through the fog and snapped me awake.
By the time Ethan followed me inside, the whole living room was already a mess.
He furrowed his brows, strode over, and crouched down to examine my cut.
"Does it hurt?"
I scrambled backward, yanking my leg out of his reach.
"Don't touch me! You're filthy!"
He froze for a split second, then lifted his head, his voice laced with faint exasperation.
"Stop overreacting. It's just a stupid painting..."
"You slept with my cousin Blair!"
I roared the words, my voice cracking with raw fury.
He stood up straight, smoothed out the crease in his cuff, and spoke in a lazy, unbothered tone.
"You were the one who told me Blair lost her mother when she was little, poor thing, and asked me to look out for her. Was that really necessary?"
"So that's how you look out for her? Between the sheets?"
Silence hung in the air for a long moment.
Then he said, "Fine, fine. It was my mistake. It was just a fling. It's not going to threaten your spot as Mrs. Miller. Let's just put this behind us and move on."
Move on...
Hot tears spilled down my cheeks and splattered against the shards of broken glass at my feet.
"Ethan, I gave up my own art studio for you. I gave up my entire dream."
"Three years. Every single minute of those three years I spent chasing investments, schmoozing clients, holding your company up with my bare hands."
"Is this how you repay me?"
He leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, his face completely blank.
"That's why I married you."
Those six simple words cut deeper into my chest than any shard of glass ever could.
He didn't marry me because he loved me.
He married me because I was useful.
Just then, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He glanced at the screen and answered the call.
Blair's cloying, sweet voice drifted out of the speaker.
"Ethan, is Ivy okay? There are so many reporters here at the exhibition. I can't handle all of them. I'm so scared..."
Ethan's voice softened instantly, warm as melted honey. "Don't worry, Ivy's fine. I'm heading back right now. Wait for me."
He hung up, grabbed his coat, and turned to leave.
"There are still reporters waiting at the exhibition that I need to deal with. I'll go check on it first."
I felt my heart turn to ash in my chest. My voice came out rough and broken.
"Ethan. Let's get a divorce."
He paused mid-step, turned back to look at me, and sharp irritation pricked his eyes.
"Ivy, stop being difficult. Blair isn't as capable as you. She can't handle an exhibition like this alone."
The door clicked shut behind him.
I crumpled to the floor, right on top of all the broken glass, and my mind dragged me back to that night.
He'd told me his flight was delayed and he couldn't make it home.
I'd forced down two pounds of straight Brandy just to lock in his client and secure the funding he needed. I ended up with a bleeding stomach because of it.
The next day, he went to the hospital and held me tight, saying, "You did so well, Ivy. I always knew you could pull it off!"
Back then, his praise had made my heart swell with joy.
But the ugly truth was brutal. While I lay in my hospital bed coughing up blood, he was right there in my art studio, f*****g Blair.
I thought back to my wedding day too. Blair was my maid of honor. She adjusted my veil for me, a sickeningly sweet smile spread across her face.
"Ivy, you have such good taste. The man you picked is absolutely wonderful..."
I'd been so naive to think she was just jealous of me. Now I know it was just a smug taunt. She'd already tested him out for herself.
My phone let out a soft alert, disrupting my quiet musings.
Blair: Ivy, are you okay?
Blair: Why did you leave so early? The reporters are being so pushy. I don't know what to do without you here.
Blair: Good thing Ethan got back in time to help me.
I ignored her, closed the chat window, and pulled up my i********: feed.
Blair had posted an update half an hour earlier.
It was a photo of the exhibition hall, drenched in flowers, and the caption read: Thank you to the most precious muse in my life.
And the first person to like that post?
Ethan.
