I was forced to kneel on the floor, using a pin to alter my husband’s mistress’s evening gown. My knees pressed against the cold marble floor, and an old injury throbbed as if shattered bones were grinding together. Ethan Smith stood nearby, gazing at Amber Rose with unmistakable tenderness. Those same eyes had once looked up at me as he knelt before me, swearing that if he ever cheated again, he would give up his inheritance. Now, all he said was, “It’s the first time she’s ever loved something this much. I just want to give her the best.” The needle pierced my fingertip. A drop of blood bloomed across the hem of the gown. Lowering my eyes, I quietly wiped away the blood. The only thought in my mind was this: Next week, while my flight takes off from Paris and Ethan escorts Amber down the red carpet at Milan Fashion Week, the court’s divorce papers will arrive on his phone right on schedule. Chloe POV Ethan Smith spent an entire year chasing Amber Rose, a rising young model. Over the past year, his gifts to her, from diamond necklaces to luxury yachts, had constantly made headlines in New York. And now, he was spending a fortune to host a solo fashion show for Amber. He wanted her to shine on the runway at Milan Fashion Week next week. To make that happen, Ethan actually came to me, asking to borrow a few custom gowns from my studio. One of the gowns Amber had her eyes on was my masterpiece. I had spent three years designing and crafting it for the upcoming International Fashion Design Competition. But Ethan didn’t care about my hard work. He brushed it off like it was nothing. Seeing my silence, Ethan’s face darkened slightly. “You have designed so many dresses, Chloe. Missing one won’t hurt you. You can just use another piece for your competition.” “But Amber is different. She just started modeling. The major luxury brands won’t lend her their couture lines yet.” I swallowed the bitter laugh bubbling up in my throat. But in the end, I couldn’t help but let out a cold sneer. “Well, Ethan, you can buy her a yacht. Why not just buy her a custom couture gown? Surely, the great Ethan Smith isn’t getting cheap now?” A no-name model like Amber could only rent out-of-season designs from three years ago, even with her agency’s best efforts. Sure, Ethan could buy her a brand-new season runway piece. But wearing retail luxury would only make his new mistress a laughingstock in the elite fashion circle. He obviously didn’t want that. But if Amber wore an exclusive piece from a rising, award-winning independent designer like me… The next day, her PR team could spin it as her having “unique, sophisticated taste,” solidifying her image as an elegant muse. Ethan’s expression hardened. His voice turned ice-cold. “Chloe, stop throwing a tantrum.” “A tantrum? I am your legal wife. Why would I waste my energy being angry at a mistress? Am I right, Ethan?” I looked at him, my eyes filled with nothing but cold detachment. I didn’t know if Ethan was too arrogant, or if he truly didn’t care. How could he possibly think that I could watch my own husband publicly chase another woman and feel absolutely nothing? Ethan frowned, as if suppressing his annoyance. He softened his tone slightly, trying to sound gentle. “Chloe, no one can ever take your place. You will always be Mrs. Smith.” “This is the first time I’ve genuinely liked a girl this much. I just want to give her the best.” I almost laughed out loud. Looking at the deeply emotional man in front of me, I felt a wave of absurdity. Five years ago, when I wanted to marry Ethan, his grandfather, Arthur Smith, was dead set against it. To prove my worth, I was locked in the freezing, damp cellar of the Smith estate, kneeling on the icy stone floor for three days and nights without food or water. During those three days, Ethan stood outside the locked door, crying with me. He swore to God that if he ever betrayed me, he would deserve to burn in hell. My knees were ruined that week, leaving me with chronic joint pain that could never be cured. Yet, just two years later, he cheated on me for the first time. Back then, I threw my wedding ring in his face and demanded a divorce. Ethan went crazy. He self-harmed and even crashed his sports car into a guardrail just to force me to show up. He bought a private island, knelt before me, and cried, promising that if he ever looked at another woman again, he would forfeit his inheritance to the Smith empire. I thought he genuinely couldn’t live without me. So, I agreed to take him back. But only two years had passed, and he was doing it again. My understanding, my gentleness, and my quiet compliance… In Ethan’s eyes, they had all become boring and taken for granted. Meanwhile, Amber’s wild defiance and constant rejections had reignited his urge to conquer. I forced down the rising bitterness in my chest and raised an eyebrow. “Oh? So I should thank you for keeping me as Mrs. Smith? Do I need to help you win over your mistress too?” The faint smile on Ethan’s lips vanished. He stared at me blankly. He reached out, his fingers gently tracing my brow down to my jawline. Suddenly, he squeezed hard, making me gasp from the pain. Then, he uttered cold, harsh words. “Have the dress delivered next week. I’ll write a check to double the investment in your studio.” My eyes welled with tears from the physical pain, but I just smiled silently. Ethan’s patience was thin. This was his warning sign before a blowout, and I knew better than to push him right now. But beneath my sleeves, my fists clenched so hard that my nails dug deep into my palms. Ethan let go of my face and turned to leave without another word. The moment the front door slammed shut, I took out my phone and made a call. “Grandpa Arthur, I’m divorcing Ethan. Please arrange my departure as soon as possible.” On the other end of the line, Arthur Smith let out a long sigh, but agreed immediately. “No problem, Chloe. I’ll have everything ready for you.” After hanging up, I opened my email. There lay an acceptance letter from the Paris National School of Decorative Arts. Without a second thought, I clicked the “Accept Admission” button.
Chloe POV The more Amber acted distant and proud, the hotter the passion burned in Ethan’s eyes. He turned his gaze toward me, where I sat quietly in the corner of the studio. “Chloe has a gentle heart. She won’t mind,” Ethan said smoothly. “Take Amber to the fitting room and try the dress on. See what needs to be adjusted.” I twitched the corner of my mouth, said nothing, and stood up. “Miss Rose, follow me.” The moment the fitting room curtain pulled back, even Ethan, who was used to seeing beautiful women, had a flash of awe in his eyes. The dress hugged Amber’s slender figure perfectly, complementing her cold, aloof vibe. It made her look like an ethereal fairy. Ethan’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He walked over to her, his eyes filled with intense possessiveness. “You look beautiful.” Amber rotated her wrists, but her brows knitted together slightly. “It is a beautiful dress. But the waist is too tight, and the train is a bit too long. It’s uncomfortable to walk in. I have to take huge steps, which completely ruins my posture.” Hearing her complaints, Ethan didn’t think she was being difficult. Instead, he comforted her gently and turned to order me: “Chloe, fix it for her. Adjust it until she’s comfortable.” The room went dead silent. This dress was my masterpiece for the international competition. Every single seam, every proportion was the result of countless calculations. If I altered it to fit Amber’s body, the original structure of the design would be completely ruined. More than that, Ethan was asking me, his legal wife, to act as a personal tailor for his mistress. It was humiliating. I didn’t move. I just stared at Ethan. Ethan’s brow furrowed, a hint of annoyance creeping into his voice. “Adjust it for her.” He was absolutely sure that I wouldn’t dare defy him right now. My fingers curled tight inside my sleeves. Finally, I let out a self-deprecating laugh, grabbed the pins from my sewing kit, and slowly knelt on the floor. The moment my knees touched the cold marble, an icy pain shot straight into my bones. This was the permanent damage left from kneeling in that freezing cellar for three days just to marry him. Once, during the winter, Ethan would cup my knees with his warm hands, his eyes red as he begged me to forgive him for letting me suffer. But now, he stood there, completely indifferent, watching me kneel at another woman’s feet. Seeing me kneel so submissively, Amber looked slightly uncomfortable and took a half-step back. “Mrs. Smith, you don’t have to do this yourself…” “Hold still, Miss Rose,” my voice was calm, completely devoid of emotion. “I am a designer. Altering clothes is part of my job.” I kept my head down, focusing all my attention on pinning the hem of Amber’s skirt. I did a sloppy job. In fact, I was practically ruining my own artwork. But this dress didn’t belong to me anymore. I didn’t want it. Ethan stood by, looking at Amber with warm eyes, occasionally glancing down at me. His voice softened. “Chloe, if Amber wins an award in this dress, it will be great publicity for your studio too. Don’t overthink this.” I didn’t reply. My hands trembled as a sharp pang of pain shot through my knee joints, distracting me. The sharp pin in my hand slipped and stabbed deep into my thumb. A bead of bright red blood welled up instantly. Without even flinching, I casually wiped the blood onto the inside lining of the dress, hiding the stain in the deepest, darkest fold of the fabric. “Done.” I stood up. But because I stood up too fast, my vision went black, and I swayed on my feet. Ethan saw me stumble and instinctively reached out to catch me. But then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Amber watching. Remembering how much Amber hated my status as his wife, he pulled his hand back. I caught his retreating motion, laughing silently at myself. To show his loyalty to his mistress, there was truly nothing he wouldn’t do. “The fabric of this dress is very delicate. Make sure to steam it before wearing it,” I advised flatly, purely out of professional habit. Amber looked at me with her usual haughty expression. But in front of Ethan, she managed a nod. “Thanks.” Ethan let out a sigh of relief, thinking I was finally being “obedient.” He wrapped his arm around Amber’s waist and led her out of the studio. The moment the door closed, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Grandpa Arthur’s lawyer: “Miss Chloe, your divorce petition has been fast-tracked and approved by the court.” “Your plane ticket and enrollment paperwork for Paris are all set.” I stared at the screen, slowly closing my eyes. I wiped the remaining smear of blood from my finger onto the cold marble table. A soft smile played on my lips as I looked in the direction Ethan had gone. I felt completely at peace. I was actually a little curious. Next week, when Ethan realized he was single again… How would he react? Probably not at all. Our love had died a long time ago anyway.
Chloe POV I had no idea how I managed to drag myself out of the studio and back to the penthouse. The moment I unlocked the front door, the icy pain I had been suppressing all day finally exploded in my joints. It felt like thousands of frozen needles were biting into my knees. Thud. My legs gave out completely, and I crashed heavily onto the cold floor. A cold sweat broke out over my forehead instantly. As I lay there, pale and trembling, trying to crawl toward the medicine cabinet under the table, the electronic lock on the front door beeped. Ethan walked in. He was back earlier than I expected. His charcoal grey suit carried the damp chill of the autumn rain outside. He saw me collapsed on the floor. His movements paused as he took off his shoes, his brow furrowing. “Why are you on the floor?” His tone was still gentle, but carried a hint of exasperation. “Are you still throwing a fit about pinning the dress earlier?” I was so pale my face was bloodless, cold sweat dripping down my cheeks. My voice shook with every breath. “Ethan… my knees. The chronic pain is acting up. Please… get me my medicine box…” Ethan just stood there, looking down at me. There was no panic in his eyes, only cold detachment. “Chloe, I only asked you to adjust a dress,” he said slowly, draping his suit jacket over the back of the sofa. “Don’t use self-harm to get my attention. The floor is cold. Get up by yourself.” My chest felt like it was stuffed with wet cotton, making it heavy and painful to breathe. Before I could say another word, Ethan’s phone on the sofa buzzed violently. He picked up and answered right in front of me. In the quiet living room, the driver’s panicked voice came through clearly: “Mr. Smith! Miss Rose insisted on getting out of the car on the coastal highway! She refused to take your car and won’t let me follow her!” Ethan’s calm face instantly shattered. “Keep an eye on her! Follow her slowly! I’m coming right now!” He hung up without a second thought, grabbed his jacket from the sofa, and turned to rush out. “Ethan…” Using the last of my strength, I dragged myself forward and grabbed the hem of his trousers. My knuckles turned white from the sheer effort. Ethan’s footsteps stopped. He looked down at his gripped trousers, then at my pathetic state on the floor. He knelt down slightly, reached out with his long fingers, and grabbed my wrist. Then, one by one, he forced my fingers off his pants. “Chloe, she’s out in the rain,” Ethan said, his voice steady and flat. “She’s too stubborn. If I don’t go, she’ll walk in the storm until morning before she ever asks anyone for help.” He pried my thumb away and stood up straight. “You know how to take care of yourself. Take some pills and go to sleep.” He looked down at me, his eyes showing a touch of cruelty. “Babe, don’t make trouble for me right now.” With that, he threw his coat over his arm, turned around, and walked out the door without looking back. The heavy front door clicked shut. I collapsed back onto the cold floor, staring at the closed door. Amber was walking in the rain, refusing his car and his men. Yet he was frantic, terrified she would catch a cold, rushing to find her. Meanwhile, I was lying here, in too much pain to even crawl, and he abandoned me. I didn’t shed a single tear. I quietly listened to the roar of his sports car engine fading into the rainy night. Slowly, I let my stiff fingers relax. Looking at my empty palms, I let out a soft, relieved laugh.
Chloe POV I dragged myself through the long, agonizing night on the cold floor. It wasn’t until daylight broke that the worst of the bone-crushing pain in my knees finally subsided. Drenched in sweat and exhausted, I pulled myself onto the sofa and swallowed two strong painkillers. Just then, my phone vibrated. Ethan’s name flashed on the screen. I answered. There was no question about how I was doing after last night. “Did you see the news? Come to the office immediately.” His voice was laced with obvious frustration. I leaned back against the sofa, my voice weak from the night of agony. “What happened?” “Someone snapped photos of me picking Amber up on the highway last night. Now the internet is saying she’s my mistress,” Ethan said coldly. “This is going to ruin her show next week. You need to clear this up.” My grip on the phone tightened. The wound on my thumb from yesterday’s pin prick was red and swollen, throbbing painfully. “How do you want me to clear it up?” “The driver is outside your door. Just come to the office. PR has the statement ready for you.” Before I could answer, he hung up. Half an hour later, I arrived at the Smith Group headquarters. Dragging my legs, which were still numb with pain, I walked into the VIP lounge of the executive suite. The room was already packed with cameras and reporters. Ethan was standing in the corner. My eyes followed his gaze. Amber was sitting on the sofa, looking as cold and aloof as ever. She was flipping through some runway materials, seemingly annoyed by the drama surrounding her. Ethan stood beside her, whispering something to her with absolute tenderness. When the PR director announced that the live stream was about to start, Ethan stood up and walked over to sit next to me on the love seat. He glanced at my pale face and whispered in a voice only I could hear, “Amber’s reputation can’t be ruined. This show is crucial for her.” The live stream started. The flashbulbs were blinding, and the reporters’ questions were sharp: “Mrs. Smith, reporters photographed Mr. Smith and Amber acting intimately last night. Is it true that Amber has come between your marriage?” Before I could speak, Ethan reached over and squeezed my hand tightly as it rested on my knee. He squeezed with immense force. His palm pressed directly onto my swollen, injured thumb. The wound that had barely clotted split open instantly. Sticky blood rushed out. A sharp, agonizing pain shot up my arm straight to my brain. I shivered violently from the pain. But Ethan didn’t notice a thing. He looked directly at the cameras, smiling warmly. “Those rumors are completely false.” His voice was firm and confident. “My wife, Chloe, is an incredibly talented independent designer, and Miss Rose is a key model we are collaborating with.” Ethan turned his head slightly, looking at me with deep affection. But beneath his amber eyes lay a cold, demanding threat. “Isn’t that right, Chloe?” The throbbing pain in my hand intensified as blood seeped into the cracks of Ethan’s fingers. Looking at the man in front of me, a wave of nausea washed over me. Suppressing both the pain in my hand and my knees, I forced a perfect, elegant smile. “Yes,” my voice was calm and steady. “Both my husband and I highly appreciate Miss Rose’s talent. The rumors of her being a mistress are completely baseless.” With that single statement, the PR crisis was instantly resolved. The moment the live stream ended and the cameras turned away, Ethan let go of my hand immediately. Without glancing at my bloody fingers, he stood up and walked straight toward Amber in the corner. “It’s done,” he said softly, his voice full of warmth. “Everything is cleared up. Come on, let me take you out to eat.” Amber closed her folder and stood up, her face still cold. “No thanks, Mr. Smith. I have a photoshoot later.” She walked right past him and headed out the door. Despite being ignored in public, Ethan wasn’t angry. Instead, a helpless, indulgent smile crossed his face. He didn’t even look back at me as he quickly followed her out. In the massive lounge, I was left entirely alone. I sat on the sofa. Looking at my bleeding thumb, I suddenly felt a strange sense of relief. I pulled a tissue from my pocket and slowly wiped the blood from my hand until it was completely clean. Then, I unlocked my phone and opened the chat with Arthur’s lawyer: “What time is my flight?” The lawyer replied instantly: “Monday morning, 9:00 AM. Private hangar.” I locked my screen and stood up slowly. What a coincidence. That was the exact same day Ethan was taking Amber to Milan for her big red-carpet debut.
Chloe POV As soon as the press conference ended, Amber went up to the rooftop to shoot her promotional posters. Ethan demanded that I accompany them. His reason was non-negotiable. “You’re the designer of the dress. If anything goes wrong with the gown during the shoot, you need to fix it immediately.” It was freezing on the rooftop. My thin clothes offered no protection against the biting wind, and every step I took felt like walking on knives. After only two setups, Amber suddenly stopped and glared at her hemline with frustration. “What’s wrong?” Ethan rushed over, his voice dripping with worry. “The seam is ripped,” Amber complained, her cold face twisting with annoyance. “I can’t shoot like this. I’m leaving.” She turned toward the elevator. Ethan grabbed her wrist, soothing her gently. “Don’t be mad. I’ll have it fixed right away.” He turned his gaze toward me, standing in the corner. “Chloe, come sew this up.” I looked at the dress. It was obvious that the seam had been intentionally snipped with scissors. I didn’t call her out. I just walked over and said calmly, “She needs to take it off first. Otherwise, the tailoring will be ruined.” “No way. Taking it off and putting it back on takes too long. It’ll ruin my flow,” Amber rejected instantly. Ethan looked at me and said, “Just sew it while she’s wearing it. Work around it.” I looked at Ethan, finding the situation utterly ridiculous. Sewing it while she wore it meant I had to kneel on the ground to reach the hem. “My hand was injured and got infected last night. I can’t hold the needle steady,” I said, showing him my swollen, red thumb as a final plea. Ethan frowned, a flash of impatience crossing his eyes. He didn’t seem to think my injury was a valid excuse. His tone remained smooth, but his words were merciless. “It’s just a couple of stitches, Chloe. Don’t make everyone stand in the cold waiting for you.” I looked at him, and suddenly, I smiled. Without saying another word, I pulled out my needle and thread, slowly bent my knees, and knelt at Amber’s feet. The moment my knees hit the concrete roof, a sharp pain shot through me. Cold sweat instantly soaked my back. My fingers were so stiff they barely worked. I struggled to hold the tiny needle, forcing it through the heavy fabric. The wind grew stronger. Amber shivered. “Are you done yet? I’m freezing.” Without a thought, Ethan took off his heavy designer coat and wrapped it tightly around Amber. He used his own body to block the freezing wind, shielding Amber completely in his arms. Meanwhile, I knelt at their feet, bearing the brunt of the icy wind alone. Ethan didn’t spare me a single glance. All his attention was on Amber, asking her softly if she was still cold. My fingers grew completely numb. My hand slipped, and the sharp needle plunged deep into my thumb again. Blood welled up instantly, staining the inside of the skirt. “What are you doing?!” Amber gasped. “Don’t get blood on my dress!” Ethan finally looked down. Seeing the blood on my hand, there was no worry in his eyes, only annoyance. He felt like I was ruining his moment with Amber. “Wipe the blood off and finish it quickly,” Ethan said coldly. I said nothing. I quietly put my thumb in my mouth, sucked the blood away, and went back to sewing. For ten agonizing minutes. When I finally bit the thread off and used the wall to pull myself up, my legs were completely numb. “Done.” I didn’t look at either of them. Dragging my stiff body, I turned and walked toward the elevator.
Chloe POV For the next few days, Ethan didn’t come home. Occasionally, I saw headlines of him and Amber attending high-society parties together. I also heard he was making meticulous preparations for Amber’s upcoming runway debut. But I didn’t care about those mocking news articles anymore. Whenever I had free time, I researched my upcoming courses at the Paris school. I couldn’t show up completely unprepared. Grandpa Arthur’s lawyer sent me my flight details on Sunday evening. But unfortunately, because of the freezing wind on the rooftop, I came down with a high fever on Saturday night. I had always been sensitive to the cold. Now, my body fluctuated between burning hot and freezing cold. My head throbbed painfully. I was worried I wouldn’t be able to board the flight on Monday. I lay weakly in bed, lacking even the strength to open my eyes. The bedroom door pushed open, and Ethan walked in, wheeling a suitcase. He walked over to the closet and began packed his clothes methodically. He didn’t even notice my pale, sweaty face. Only then did I remember that Monday was also the day Ethan and Amber were leaving for Milan. The grand fashion show he spent millions on. I closed my eyes. My heart no longer felt pain. Only a dead, numb silence. “Ethan,” I squeezed out the last bit of my strength to look at the man in his pristine suit. “I have a fever. Can you get me a glass of water?” Ethan paused his packing. He turned around, walked to the bedside, and touched my forehead. “Why don’t you take better care of yourself?” A weak, humorless smile touched my lips. Yes. If a woman doesn’t even love herself, how can she expect anyone else to love her? I used to be so stupid. But I never would be again. Ethan frowned. He was about to get me some water when his phone rang. Seeing the caller ID, Ethan answered immediately. Within seconds, his voice grew anxious. “How could she just disappear? Wait for me, I’m coming right now.” “Don’t worry about the flight on Monday. Everything will be fine.” Hanging up, Ethan zipped his suitcase closed. He quickly poured a glass of water, tossed some flu medicine on the nightstand, and looked at me with a mix of guilt and impatience. “Remember to take the medicine. I have an emergency. I’ll fly straight to Milan on Monday. Let’s celebrate our anniversary when I get back.” I was a bit dazed. Right. Our wedding anniversary was in a few days. He actually remembered. But I had completely forgotten. I didn’t ask him to stay. I watched him turn around and leave the penthouse without hesitation. As the front door locked, the entire place fell into a grave-like silence. I lay there quietly, feeling the fever drain the moisture from my body. After a long time, I slowly raised my hand, looking at my wedding ring. When Ethan slid this ring onto my finger years ago, he swore that if he ever betrayed me, he would lose everything. I slowly slid the platinum band off my ring finger. Then I rolled over, closed my eyes, and drifted into a heavy sleep. The next day, my fever went down a bit. I got up to clean the place. Because tomorrow was not only the day Ethan and Amber flew to Milan… It was also the day I would leave him forever and fly to Paris. I didn’t waste a single second. I dragged out several heavy black trash bags. Everything Ethan had given me over the years, I threw away. I didn’t even touch the millions of dollars worth of jewelry in the safe. I simply texted Ethan’s assistant to have them cleared out tomorrow. I only packed the things I had brought with me. In the study, I found the sketches of the custom tie clips I had designed for Ethan over the years. I fed them into the shredder without hesitation. Finally, I stood in front of our massive wedding portrait in the living room. I calmly smashed the glass frame, pulled the photo out, and set it on fire. Suddenly, the front door lock beeped. Ethan walked in. He was in a rush, probably having forgotten something. His footsteps stopped dead in the middle of the living room. He looked at the two packed suitcases on the floor, then at the ashes of our wedding portrait still smoldering in the trash can. His brow furrowed tightly, irritation flashing in his eyes. “Chloe, you use this trick way too often. It’s getting old.” His tone was still calm, but carried a condescending smirk. In his mind, my packing was just another desperate attempt to get his attention. Two years ago, when I threw my ring and packed my bags, he had begged on his knees. Now that I was doing it again, he just found it annoying. I zipped up my last suitcase, not even looking up at him. “My things are packed. I didn’t take a single thing of yours.” Ethan adjusted his cuffs and walked over to me. “Are you really going to keep throwing this tantrum just because of the Milan show?” He sighed. “This show is incredibly important to Amber. I have to be there. Be good, okay? When I get back next week, we’ll talk.” “No need,” I said, lifting my suitcase. “We have nothing to talk about.” Ethan’s face darkened completely. I knew he hated this quiet, detached version of me the most. “Fine,” he snatched his forgotten documents from the table and walked toward the door, his voice cold. “Just a reminder: the Smith family trust meeting is next Wednesday. As Mrs. Smith, you are required to attend.” He was absolutely sure I wouldn’t leave. He was sure I would show up next Wednesday, standing meekly by his side as his perfect wife. I looked at his back and gave him a perfectly calm reply. “Okay.”
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