Olivia pov;
"Who was that man to you?" Ethan asked again.
His voice was quiet, but it filled the small room. He stood near the end of the long mahogany conference table, his gray eyes fixed on me.
I squeezed my hands together in front of my skirt. My fingers were freezing, but my palms felt damp. My chest felt tight, like someone had tied a rope around my ribs and pulled it as hard as they could. I looked down at the dark carpet, staring at the small pattern near my black heels.
"He's my husband," I whispered.
The room went dead silent.
"Your husband," Ethan repeated. He did not raise his voice, but the words came out heavy and slow.
"We are still married," I said, forcing myself to look up. My voice trembled, so I stopped, swallowed hard, and tried again. "On paper, we are still ma
