As the tour approached, the company abruptly revoked my lead dancer status. Desperate to get answers, I rushed to confront them. Distracted and flustered, I missed a step and tumbled down the stairs. While wincing in pain and about to dial 911, a notification popped up on my screen. [Crimson Ballet Company: The new lead dancer @Amber Vaughn and the amazing sponsor @Ethan Ward.] Two smiling faces stared back at me from the photo—my husband of seven secret years and his pampered mistress. Ethan’s arm was wrapped around Amber’s waist as he kissed her cheek. Amber clung to Ethan’s neck, her face glowing with bashful pride. Wiping the blood from the corner of my mouth, I posted a photo of our marriage certificate in the comment section. Clara: [Is your new ballet production about shameless mistresses?] Ethan’s call came through within minutes. “Clara Bennett, what the hell are you doing? How many times do I have to tell you—Amber and I are just putting on a show.” I sniffled, trying to keep my voice steady. “What gives you the right to take my lead role and hand it to her?” He hesitated. “Wait… Are you at Crimson Ballet Company?” There was a brief pause before he continued, his tone turning casual, almost dismissive. “Amber wanted the lead in this tour as a birthday gift. I didn’t know the role was yours. Just go online and say the marriage certificate is fake.” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. He didn’t even know where I worked but somehow remembered Amber’s birthday wish. “And why should I fake a marriage certificate?” Ethan’s voice was calm, as if explaining something obvious. “You could say you’re a fan of mine.” “A fan? That’s how you see me?” He let out a long sigh. “Clara, we’ve been married for seven years. We’re practically an old married couple. Amber’s young—there’s no need to start drama with her.” Old? Did he forget that I married him before I even graduated college? That despite our seven years together, I was only a year older than Amber? “Ethan, I fell down the stairs. My leg hurts.” “All I’m asking is for you to apologize and clarify things. It’s not that hard.” His tone carried disappointment. “When did you turn into such a liar?” Tears, warm and thick, mixed with the blood dripping onto my hand. I covered my mouth and ended the call. When his number flashed on my screen again, I immediately set it to silent. I called 911 myself. When the paramedics arrived, they asked if I had any family to accompany me. “No,” I replied, staring blankly at the ceiling. “They’re all gone.” Halfway to the hospital, Ethan texted me. Ethan: [Amber fainted because of you. Get to the hospital, apologize to her in person, and bring a suitable gift. There’ll be reporters there.] Ethan: [It may be embarrassing, but you started this mess.] “With trembling fingers, I typed back. Clara: [In your dreams.]” I shut off my phone and retreated into the silence of my thoughts. While waiting for my X-ray results in the hospital corridor, a familiar voice caught my attention. “Dr. Lee, I’m Amber’s boyfriend. Let me know if there’s anything she needs.” I looked up and met Ethan’s gaze. His steps faltered for a moment, but he quickly composed himself. Acting as if I were a stranger, he continued chatting with Michael Lee, walking right past me. The faint citrus scent of his cologne hit me, and my stomach churned. I wanted to escape, but Ethan turned back. He seemed rushed, his face filled with irritation when he saw I hadn’t left. “Have you come to your senses?” “Like I said, in your dreams.” I pushed past him, limping in the opposite direction. I could feel his eyes on my injured leg, his gaze growing colder. “Are you seriously playing the pity card to avoid apologizing?” I didn’t respond, desperate to escape the corridor filled with Amber’s cloying perfume. But a strong hand grabbed my shoulder, yanking me back. I stumbled, nearly losing my balance, as sharp pain shot through my leg. “Ah!” I cried out, unable to hold back. Ethan’s brow furrowed as his expression darkened. “You’re really disappointing me.” With practiced ease, he reached into my pocket and took my phone. “Give it back!” I lunged for it, but Ethan shoved me away impatiently. “Marcus, hold her.” The bodyguard Marcus Shaw pinned me effortlessly, his grip leaving me powerless. “Ethan Ward!”
A face mask was tossed my way. “Cover her mouth. Stop her screaming.” With my wrists pinned, my leg throbbing, and my mouth tightly covered, all I could do was cry. I watched helplessly as Ethan took my phone, logged into my account, and posted an apology in my name. “I’ve changed your password. Only I can access it now. Behave yourself, and stop causing trouble.” When he finally glanced up, he froze, clearly startled by my tear-streaked face. He waved off the bodyguard, scolding him, “Did you have to be so rough?” Then he stepped closer, gently rubbing my wrist. “Does it hurt? If you’d just listened earlier, none of this would’ve happened.” I snatched my phone back, my hands trembling as I opened Space X. Clara: [I apologize for my comments on Crimson Ballet Company’s page. I am not married to Mr. Ethan Ward. As a fan, I let my admiration for him get the better of me. I also apologize to Ms. Amber Vaughn and Mr. Ethan Ward for the trouble I caused.] My fingers hovered over the comments, too afraid to click. [@Clara, have you no shame?] [@Clara, oh my God, your thirst to be a mistress is spilling off the screen.] [@Clara, people like you are a disgrace to dancers. Get out of the industry already!] Ethan grabbed the phone from my hands again. “Stop reading the comments.” “Is this the outcome you wanted?” I asked quietly, my voice barely audible. He turned away. “People online forget things quickly. I’ll have someone redirect the narrative later. Just stay off your phone for a while.” I shook my head slowly, my vision blurring. “You’ve ruined me.” I couldn’t see his face clearly, but his tone grew irritable. “I already said I’d fix it. Why are you making such a big deal out of this? If you hadn’t started all this drama, would we even be here?” He continued, “You should be grateful I’m even cleaning up your mess. If I’ve put you in the spotlight, it’s only because you brought this on yourself!” My ears buzzed, drowning out his voice as bitter laughter escaped my lips. “Let’s get a divorce.” He let out a low chuckle, his tone indulgent and dismissive. “You’re just venting. It’s fine—I’ll let you.” He was so sure I’d never leave him, framing his condescension as magnanimity. As Ethan’s laughter echoed, I found a strange calm washing over me. Just then, the doctor called my name from down the hall. “Clara Bennett? Come get your test results.” Ethan froze and then hurried after me. “What test results?” “Ethan,” a soft voice interrupted from behind. “Why are you taking so long?” Ethan turned, his expression instantly softening as he walked toward Amber, who stood at the hospital room door. “Why did you get out of bed? Go back and rest.” Dragging my numb, aching leg, I walked in the opposite direction. Every step felt like walking on shattered glass, each one cutting deeper. The doctor informed me I’d need a month of complete rest—or I’d never dance again. I took a cab back to my cold, empty apartment. Because our marriage was a secret, Ethan and I maintained separate residences. He had deliberately chosen the apartment above mine. On the first night we moved in, he’d pinned me against the wall and kissed me. “This way, I can sneak into your bed every night,” he’d said. I once thought it was just a playful quirk of his serious demeanor. But now I knew—the thrill of sneaking around wasn’t a game. Cheating was his true nature. He’d grown bored of me and fallen for Amber instead.
At nine that night, Ethan showed up at my door carrying a bag of fruit. “I bought you some strawberries. Want some now?” I tossed my phone onto the table in front of him, the screen displaying Amber’s latest post. Amber: [I told him I wanted something sweet and tangy like cherries, but he bought strawberries instead. LOL.] “So, whatever Amber doesn’t want gets handed down to me?” Ethan frowned. “You don’t have to be like this…” He walked over and slipped an arm around my waist, his tone softening. “Is this because it’s been too long since we’ve been… close? Are you upset about that?” I shoved him away hard and gagged dramatically right in front of him. A storm darkened Ethan’s face. “That’s enough. Don’t act like this just because you think you can.” “What respect have you ever given me?” I clutched my chest, tears falling uncontrollably. “Do you even know how many hateful calls I’ve gotten? How have I been blacklisted by every major ballet company? My entire career is ruined! Ethan, what did I ever do to deserve this?” I’ve always been mild-mannered—easily pushed around, really. Ethan used to tease me, tugging on my earlobe with a smile. “You’re so easy to bully. What would you do without me?” I never imagined Ethan would truly leave me one day. When my parents died under a cloud of shame, accused of crimes they didn’t commit, the world turned its back on me. It was Ethan who pulled me out of the pit. He defied his family for me. I still remember him kneeling in the rain for hours, begging his father. He took me away from the place that had broken me and helped me start fresh in a new city. Even when I was at my lowest, Ethan never let go of me. Now, after surviving those brutal days, I was faced with his betrayal. “Let’s get a divorce,” I said, closing my eyes. “At least let me leave with some dignity.” “Clara,” Ethan sighed, rubbing his temples as if exhausted. “You’ve been through worse before. Why are you being so dramatic now?” My eyes flew open wide as I stared at him in disbelief. “What did you just say?” Ethan pressed his lips into a tight line, his expression turning cold. “When your parents killed themselves, the whole country was calling them murderers…” “Get out!” I screamed, grabbing a throw pillow from the couch and hurling it at him. “Get out!” Ethan looked genuinely shocked by my outburst. He hesitated for a moment and then stomped off in anger. On his way out, he grabbed the bag of strawberries. “You don’t want my charity? Fine. Let’s see how far your stubbornness takes you.” Barely ten minutes later, Amber posted again on Instagram. Amber: [First night staying at his place. The décor is so tacky—typical clueless guy taste.] The attached photo showed Ethan’s apartment upstairs. The “tacky” décor was something I had painstakingly designed myself. Ethan commented under her post. Ethan: [You’re right. It is tacky. Let’s remodel.] I rubbed my tired, aching eyes, my tears long since dried. Houses could be redecorated. People could be replaced. To Ethan, I was nothing more than a toy he’d grown bored of. When another harassing call came through, I yanked out my SIM card and replaced it with the one I’d used during an overseas tour. There was a time when a world-famous ballet company had offered me a position. I turned it down because I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Ethan. With shaky hands, I dialed the number they’d given me. “Hello, is this Mr. Jason Sterling?” The line was silent. If not for the faint sound of breathing, I would’ve thought the call had been disconnected. Why wasn’t he saying anything? Had he seen the trending news? I tightened my grip on the phone, my palm damp with sweat. “Mr. Sterling, please hear me out. I didn’t do the things they’re accusing me of. I tried to post a clarification, but my accounts are all controlled. Every time I create a new one, the posts are deleted within seconds. I—” “Wait for me.” A deep, unfamiliar male voice interrupted me. It sounded vaguely familiar but nothing like the Jason Sterling I remembered. I froze. “You’re not Jason Sterling?” “Wait for me.” He repeated the words and then hung up abruptly. Confused, I stared at the phone. Moments later, a text came through. Unknown Number: [Taking off now. Gotta turn off my phone.] Seconds later, another message buzzed in. Unknown Number: [Wait for me to return. You’ll be alright.] Though his words were cryptic, they at least carried a promise. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. Over the next few days, I started packing and getting my paperwork in order. I didn’t have much—just a single suitcase. Anything Ethan had bought me, I left behind. Not because I was proud or still holding onto hope. He cheated on me and left me shattered. But back when my family was ruined, when I was hated by the public, when people demanded I pay for my parents’ alleged sins, it was Ethan who saved me. I don’t know how he convinced his father, but after that night of kneeling in the rain, Ethan was disowned. At the same time, the public’s hatred for me disappeared. He gave me a new life. He caught me when I was at my lowest and stayed by my side through the darkest days. For that, I couldn’t bring myself to hate him. I just wanted to part ways peacefully. After three days of silence, Ethan returned. “Have you calmed down and come to your senses?” I nodded, my tone calm. “I have.” He misunderstood my response, a smug smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Good. Clara, you need to remember your place. Be good, and I’ll keep taking care of you. But if you push your luck, I’ll make sure you have nothing.” After his tirade, he seemed confused by my lack of reaction. “Are you done?” I placed the divorce papers on the table. “If you are, sign this.” Ethan’s eyes darkened as he stared at the papers. “You’ve known about Amber and me for a while. Why not just pretend nothing happened, like you used to? Stay as my wife. Isn’t that better? She gets what she wants, and so do you. Clara, you shouldn’t be so ungrateful.” I gaped at him, stunned that those words had come out of his mouth. I still remembered back in high school, when Ethan’s father cheated on his mother, and the house erupted into chaos. His father had sneered, “Every man in my position has a mistress. I’m not divorcing you, so stop making a fuss.” Furious, Ethan had grabbed a baseball bat and smashed a vase near his father. Amid the shards of glass, he had said coldly, “A man with no sense of responsibility doesn’t deserve to be my father.” Back then, I thought Ethan was the most incredible person I’d ever met. In what felt like the blink of an eye, the disdainful boy from years ago had morphed into a reflection of his father. At thirty, Ethan wasn’t just his father’s mirror—he was everything his fifteen-year-old self had vowed never to become. I felt nothing but disgust. “No way,” I said, sliding the divorce papers closer to him. “After the divorce, you can take care of as many people as you want.” Ethan stared at me for a long moment before finally picking up the papers between two fingers. “You want a divorce? Fine. But don’t you think it’s time to settle the debts you owe me?” I nodded and pulled out a bank card. “There’s five million dollars on this. It’s enough to cover everything you’ve spent on me.” Ethan’s brows furrowed as he stared at the card. “Five million dollars? You think that’s enough?” “It is,” I replied, meeting his gaze. “I’ve kept records of every expense. The ledger is in the study if you want to check. I also kept every luxury item and piece of jewelry you bought me—they’ve either been returned or factored into the total. I owe you nothing.” Ethan was silent for so long I almost thought he wouldn’t agree. Then he laughed softly. “I was planning to take you to a charity gala tomorrow night, but since you don’t need me, forget it.” His gaze lingered on my face, likely searching for some hint of regret. But he found none. My expression didn’t waver. “Since our marriage is a secret, feel free to bring whoever you want.” Ethan pressed his lips into a thin line and tossed an invitation onto the table. “Your name’s on it. Come with me tomorrow night, and I’ll agree to the divorce.” I had no idea what Ethan’s real intentions were. But I had no choice but to agree. When I finally slipped into the dress Ethan had sent me and arrived at the gala, chauffeured by his driver, I realized I had underestimated just how cruel he could be. This wasn’t some private event. The red carpet was lined with reporters from every major media outlet. Fans clutching flowers and banners screamed their favorite celebrities’ names from the sidelines. Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t notice someone pointing at me until I heard the shout. “Look! Isn’t that Bitch Clara?” Ever since Ethan had forced me to apologize using my own account, I’d been branded with that humiliating title. I’d seen the countless hateful comments online, but no amount of vitriol on a screen compared to hearing it whispered, sneered, and jeered right next to me. “How does she even have the nerve to show her face here?” “Look at her dress—Amber’s in white, so she wore white too? Shameless.” “Don’t even compare her to Amber. She doesn’t measure up, not even close!” “Exactly! Amber’s dress is next-season couture. Hers? Probably last year’s leftovers.” The relentless mockery drilled into my ears. I turned on my heel, ready to leave, but someone grabbed my arm. I looked up to see Ethan’s bodyguard, Marcus. He smirked, his eyes glinting with malice. “Ma’am, Mr. Ward insists you attend the event.” He was Amber’s relative, and during that incident at the hospital, he had deliberately yanked my arm so hard it left bruises. Ethan had seen it but only offered a perfunctory reprimand. And now, he’d sent Marcus to deal with me again. The man who once cherished me had vanished completely. Bitterness surged in my chest, but resistance was futile. I was half-dragged, half-pulled along by Marcus. “Look at Clara’s limp—doesn’t she walk like a crippled donkey?” “Think she’s trying to crash the red carpet and got busted by security?” “Absolute trash!” Before I could react, a sharp voice yelled, and suddenly a bottle of juice came flying at me. I tried to dodge, but Marcus deliberately shifted, blocking my escape and even shoving me closer to the trajectory. “Ah!” The bottle burst open, drenching me in sticky purple grape juice. My white dress was instantly stained and blotched. “Ha! Doesn’t she look like she’s on her period?” “Don’t you have any shame? Get lost already!” “If I were you, I’d jump off a building. God, people this shameless are just indestructible.” Amid the jeers and laughter, I struggled against Marcus’ grip. “Let me go! I need to change!” Marcus looked down at me with mock concern. “Sorry, but even if you were on your last breath, Mr. Ward said you’re going inside tonight. Mr. Ward also said if you want a divorce, you’ll have to make it through this evening first. Otherwise, don’t bother.” I froze. Of course. I should’ve remembered. Ethan was the rising star of Oceanhaven now. What could someone like me—a woman whose very identity had to remain hidden—possibly do to stand against him? I forced a smile, hollow and resigned. “Let go. I’ll walk on my own.” But Marcus wasn’t done humiliating me. Instead of letting go, he quickened his pace, dragging me along awkwardly. I stumbled forward, drawing even more ridicule from the crowd. By the time we reached Ethan, Marcus had returned to his usual obedient, unassuming demeanor. Ethan’s cold gaze swept over me, lingering on my stained dress. “What happened?” I glared at him, my voice shaking with anger. “What happened? Isn’t this exactly what you wanted?” Ethan frowned slightly, about to speak, but a delicate arm looped around his from behind. “Clara, I’m so sorry,” Amber cooed. “It must’ve been one of my fans who threw the juice at you.” Draped in a pristine white couture gown, Amber pressed herself closer to Ethan, looking perfectly innocent. “She probably got upset seeing you in a dress similar to mine. Clara, you don’t mind, do you?” Once, her provocations would’ve infuriated me. But now, all I wanted was to leave. “Ethan, you wanted me here. I showed up. You wanted to humiliate me, and I took it. You’ve gotten what you wanted. Can I go now?” Though I phrased it as a question, I wasn’t waiting for his answer. I turned and started walking away. “Don’t leave yet.” Someone blocked my path. “Well, well, if it isn’t Clara Bennett, the famous dancer. Since you’re here, why not give us a performance before you go?” I didn’t recognize the man, but it was obvious he was someone Ethan had arranged to mock me further. “Move,” I said, my voice cold and firm. “Aw, such a temper,” the man drawled, looking me up and down like I was an object for sale. “Still think you’re the rising star of the ballet world? Haven’t you heard? You’ve been blacklisted.” The words hit me like ice water. My breath caught as a chill ran through me. “Is that true?” Ethan swirled the wine in his glass, his gaze detached and indifferent. “It’s the price you pay for your mistakes.” I couldn’t stop myself from demanding, “What did I do? What was so unforgivable that you had to destroy my career? Tell me!” Ethan’s lips pressed into a thin line, his expression souring. “You know exactly what you did.” Amber let out a soft laugh. “Clara, I’m performing tonight. With all the bad press you’ve been getting lately, why not dance too? There are a lot of influential people here. Maybe someone will take an interest.” I stared at Amber until her smile faltered. “Ethan,” she said, shrinking behind him, “Clara’s scaring me.” Ethan patted her hand reassuringly, his eyes never leaving mine. “Clara, isn’t this what you wanted? A chance to network? There are several entertainment executives here tonight. Take advantage of it.” I drew in a sharp breath, horrified by how unrecognizable Ethan had become. In his early days, when he was struggling to start his business, he’d been so desperate for funds that he almost missed out on a golden opportunity. I’d secretly taken a job dancing at a nightclub to earn money quickly. When Ethan found out, he was furious. He’d rather sell his blood than let me perform in a place like that. “You know how jealous I get,” he’d said, his voice low and possessive. “I’d lose my mind if other men looked at you like that.” He had loved me so much back then. We’d spent nights in our tiny, damp apartment, sharing everything down to a single plum, savoring it together. But now? Now he seemed perfectly fine with pushing me toward other men. My voice came out hoarse and broken. “Fine. If that’s what you want.” I pushed past the man blocking my path and made my way toward a director I’d once worked with. “Wow, Clara’s still limping. You think she’s actually hurt?” “Please. She’s faking it.” Ethan’s disdainful voice blended seamlessly with the laughter and jeers around me, creating a suffocating web of humiliation. I reached the director, but before I could even greet him, he quickly excused himself and walked away. I froze, realizing there was no point in trying anymore. But I couldn’t accept it. I had always been known for my dedication, my low-key professionalism, and my spotless reputation in the dance world. So many people had once begged to work with me. How could Ethan’s words alone erase all of that? I limped around the room, lowering myself further with each person I approached. But they all avoided me like the plague—or worse, joined Amber in mocking me. It wasn’t until I was left utterly alone, standing in the center of the room, that the truth hit me like a slap in the face. I was nothing more than a clown under the spotlight, a joke for everyone to laugh at. And leading the charge was the man I once believed I could trust with my life. “Clara,” Ethan said, his face dark with displeasure. “Haven’t you embarrassed yourself enough?” Amber’s voice was soft and falsely sweet. “Ethan, Clara was my mentor. Maybe we should just let this go?” He didn’t reply, but his tightly furrowed brow relaxed slightly. “Absolutely not!” someone shouted. “A dancer acting like this? She’s ruining Mr. Ward’s reputation!” “Exactly. Even if Mr. Ward lets it slide, she needs to be taught a lesson so she knows what lines not to cross.” One of Ethan’s lackeys handed me a glass filled to the brim with strong liquor. “Drink this, and we’ll consider giving you another chance. What do you say, everyone?” A chorus of agreement rose around me. I turned to Ethan. “Is this your idea?” Ethan stood three steps away, unmoving. I had no intention of closing the distance. I knew he was waiting for me to cave. Every argument we’d ever had ended with me surrendering first. Not because he was right. But because I couldn’t forget how he had pulled me out of the darkest time of my life. In his presence, I always felt like I owed him something—like I was permanently indebted to him. I tolerated his misdirected anger because of that. Even when he flirted openly with Amber or bought her an apartment to keep her close, I turned a blind eye for a while. But not today. “Tell me again,” I said, my voice steady. “Was making me drink your idea?” Ethan’s expression hardened at my defiance. “Yes. It was.” I shook my head with a bitter smile, staring into the liquor swirling in the glass. He knew I was allergic to alcohol, yet here he was, forcing me to drink to protect Amber. The boy who once couldn’t bear to see me hurt was gone, lost to time. Something inside me shattered. Ten years. All of it. Over. A single word came to mind, “irreversible.” “Fine.” I raised the glass and drank it in one go, catching the flicker of hesitation in Ethan’s eyes before he schooled his features. The fiery burn of the alcohol scorched my throat, making me cough so hard my face turned red. “Good job! Let’s pour her another one!” Someone reached for the bottle, but Ethan snapped, “That’s enough,” and they backed off. He took a step toward me, but Amber looped her arm through his, holding him back. “Ethan, I think Clara’s shown enough sincerity,” she said, her tone saccharine. “How about this? When I perform later, let her join me on stage.” Amber’s lips curved into a mockingly innocent smile. “Of course, it might mean Clara would have to be my backup dancer. What do you think?” “That won’t be necessary,” I said coldly. The alcohol churned in my stomach, the heat spreading across my skin. “This performance is live-streamed, isn’t it? Is humiliating me in front of the entire world what you really want? Or is it that you’re so insecure about your own abilities that you need to pull these cheap tricks to make yourself feel superior?” For the first time in years, I let myself speak without restraint, letting the venom I’d bottled up pour out. Amber tightened her grip on Ethan’s arm, her voice trembling with faux innocence. “Ethan, explain to Clara. She’s misunderstanding me.” Ethan’s expression darkened further, his tone dripping with disappointment. “If you still want to dance, you’ll get on that stage tonight. Being Amber’s backup dancer is a privilege for someone like you.” His words cut through the last thread holding me together, ripping apart whatever feelings I still had for him. “Ethan Ward,” I said, my voice steady but laced with contempt, “what exactly am I to you? A toy? A source of entertainment? Or just a prop to help you and Amber flaunt your relationship? Whatever this is, I’m done playing.” I pulled off my wedding ring and hurled it at him. Then, with everyone watching, I took the divorce papers from my bag and scattered them at his feet. “If you’re so eager to distance yourself from me, fine—let’s make it official. Sign the damn papers, and we’ll be done. I wish you and Amber all the best. Just don’t ever show your faces in front of me again!” The papers fluttered to the floor. Someone nearby picked one up, scrutinizing it. “Wow, these look pretty convincing. Mr. Ward, could these be real?” Ethan’s tone was indifferent. “Just a childish stunt.” He genuinely thought I was bluffing. He was so certain I wouldn’t leave him. To him, every act of defiance, every tear I shed, was nothing more than a petty tantrum. Even now, his gaze carried a faint glimmer of mockery. “I suggest you stop making a scene before it gets any worse,” he said coolly. Exhaustion washed over me—deep, bone-deep fatigue. “A withered flower can never bloom again,” I thought. “People are no different.” I turned to leave. The sound of Ethan’s wine glass shattering against the floor echoed through the room. “Think carefully,” he said, his voice sharp and cutting. “Once you walk out that door, who will want you? Who would even dare?” I didn’t know what my expression looked like, but the jeers around me died down. My vision blurred, and Ethan’s figure warped into a grotesque shadow. I felt my soul sinking again. The last time, Ethan had caught me. This time, he was the one pushing me into the abyss. I bit down on my lip so hard I tasted blood. “Oh, Ethan,” Amber cooed, picking up my glass. “This was Clara’s drink, wasn’t it? Doesn’t smell like alcohol at all.” The liquor had been poured right in front of Ethan. Amber’s lie was as flimsy as it was malicious. But Ethan believed her anyway. He stepped forward, his grip like iron as he seized my wrist. “You’ve disappointed me again. Apologize to Amber.” His voice was cold and impatient, as if I were a child in need of discipline. The alcohol was already wreaking havoc on my body, my vision doubling as my immune system collapsed under the strain. “Leave here,” I thought, the word pounding through my head like a drumbeat. But Ethan didn’t let go. Pain shot up my arm as his grip tightened. I cried out, but he didn’t loosen his hold. “You think I’ll fall for your tricks again?” His voice was low and biting. “You’re getting on that stage tonight, no matter what.” Amber giggled. “How about I take Clara to change into something more suitable?” “That won’t be necessary,” Ethan said, his words stabbing into me like needles. “Let her dance in that dress. It’ll remind her of her place. Once something is dirty, it can never be clean again.” His voice was calm, almost casual, but every word was a deliberate jab. A reminder of my parents’ disgrace. A reminder that everything I had come from him. “If I leave him, I’ll have nothing,” I thought. “But what’s the point of staying with someone who uses my past as a weapon?” “Let go!” I shouted, wrenching free of his grasp, only to stumble and crash to the ground. The allergic reaction hit me like a freight train. My body felt heavy, my throat constricted, and I couldn’t breathe. Amber’s voice drifted in, distant and faint. “Ethan, my routine involves a lot of movement. Clara’s dress is too long—it’ll get in the way. If she won’t change, maybe we should just tear it.” Ethan hesitated for only a second. “Fine.” “Hold her down,” he ordered. Hands grabbed at me from every direction. I panicked, thrashing as hard as I could, but it was no use. I was like a fish out of water—flailing helplessly, powerless against them. “No,” I screamed in my mind, the word echoing in a void of despair. “Ah!” The person closest to me let out a sudden, sharp cry. “What the hell? Who’s there?” “Are you out of your mind?” One curse followed another until they abruptly turned into gasps of shock. The weight on my body lifted, and I was swept into a pair of arms that smelled faintly of sandalwood. Struggling to lift my eyelids, I caught the glint of diamond cufflinks on the edge of a sleeve through my blurry vision. “Who’s the idiot who thinks they can—” The abuser, now yanked back, turned angrily to confront the newcomer, but their words died the moment they locked eyes with a pair of icy irises. The man holding me stood tall—easily over six feet—with a frame that radiated raw power. His features were striking and sharp, with arched brows cutting assertively into his temples. His thick lashes cast a brooding shadow over his cold, piercing eyes, and his lips were set in a tight line. Although his face was undeniably handsome, the chilling aura surrounding him made it impossible to approach lightly. Ethan, however, noticed something else first, the man’s entourage. Behind him stood a group of imposing men dressed in black, each exuding a commanding presence that was far beyond the typical bodyguard. Standing to the man’s right was a familiar face—Robert Hayes. Ethan’s breath hitched. Robert Hayes was a powerhouse in Seaview Isle, a man with considerable sway, someone even Ethan had tried and failed to approach multiple times. Yet here he was, standing hunched over with his cane, his demeanor unusually humble. Ethan had never seen Robert this deferential. An unease crept into Ethan’s chest as he cautiously addressed the man, his tone probing. “May I ask for your name, sir?” The man, towering over Ethan, looked down with thinly veiled contempt. “A group of people ganging up on a woman. Don’t you feel ashamed?” Ethan maintained a polite smile. “You misunderstand. She volunteered to stay and perform. After all, it’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to make a name for herself.” The man’s lips curved into a mocking smirk. “A lie so transparent it only fools the one telling it.” He turned slightly toward Robert. “This is the promising talent you spoke of from Seaview Isle?” Robert’s expression tightened, his tone fawning as he rushed to explain. “This—this is an exception, of course.” Robert’s forced smile vanished as he turned to Ethan, his face dark with anger. “Young man, broaden your horizons. You were invited to this gala, not to engage in mob tactics.” Ethan clenched his fists, a burning frustration simmering in his chest, but his attention remained fixed on the man as he carefully calculated his next move. Robert took the opportunity to speak up, raising his voice, “Allow me to introduce Mr. Julian Reid, of Ardent Industries.” Ethan froze, his entire body stiffening. Ardent Industries. That was a name Ethan couldn’t afford to offend. The newly appointed head of Ardent Industries was a legend. Julian Reid had led a mercenary team and fought his way out of the jungle, seizing control of the Reid family’s business empire despite his illegitimate status. In record time, he consolidated power and became the undisputed leader of Ardent Industries. Even across the ocean, Ethan had heard of his reputation. This man was no less than a living nightmare. Ethan’s eyes flickered with jealousy before fear quickly subdued it. Amber, who had been clinging to Ethan’s arm, suddenly stepped forward, releasing her grip. “Mr. Reid, do you follow entertainment news?” Amber asked, her tone sweet and polished. “You must be far too busy, or you wouldn’t have misunderstood us like this.” She smiled coyly. “I’m Amber Vaughn, a dancer. The woman you’re holding, Clara, is my colleague. She’s faked marriage certificates and even drawn up phony contracts. She’s—” “You’re Amber Vaughn?” Julian interrupted her coldly. Amber’s eyes lit up with barely contained excitement. “You’ve heard of me?” The onlookers exchanged whispers. “Wow, Mr. Reid knows Amber? I guess her charm is impossible to resist.” “No surprise. Amber’s basically a national sweetheart in the dance world.” “First Ethan Ward, and now Julian Reid? Some girls have all the luck.” Amber tilted her head modestly, her smile poised. “Have you seen me dance before? I don’t usually take photos with men, but I’d make an exception for you.” She smoothed her hair and pulled out her phone, angling it for a selfie with Julian. Before she could even smile for the camera, her phone was slapped out of her hand, landing far away with a loud clatter.
“Ow!” Amber cried, clutching her reddened hand. She opened her mouth to protest but froze when she saw Julian gently brush aside Clara’s curls to inspect her face. “She’s having an allergic reaction to alcohol,” he said, his voice low and trembling slightly. His demeanor shifted. No longer restrained, he scooped Clara into his arms, holding her securely against his chest. Without hesitation, he turned to leave. “Mr. Reid!” Ethan stepped forward to block his path. “Where are you taking her?” Julian’s gaze was glacial as he looked at Ethan. “She’s going into anaphylactic shock. Can’t you see that?” Ethan glanced at Clara in Julian’s arms and sneered. “Mr. Reid, you don’t understand. This woman is a master manipulator. She drank plain water earlier—how could she possibly have an allergic reaction to alcohol?” Julian’s chest rose and fell sharply, as if suppressing something primal. Ethan continued, his tone accusatory. “Stop pretending, Clara. If you don’t want to dance, no one’s forcing you. Don’t play the victim and mislead Mr. Reid. Stop this charade.” As Ethan pressed on, one of Julian’s men leaned in to whisper something into his ear. A wave of cold fury emanated from Julian. “You’re saying she drank water?” “Exactly,” Ethan said confidently. “Amber saw it herself.” At a single glance from Julian, the nearest burly man in black strode over to the trust fund kid who had poured Clara’s drink. “Which bottle was it?” The trust fund kid stammered, visibly shaken. “Th-that one…” The bottle remained untouched, save for the one glass already poured for Clara. Julian’s sharp gaze shifted to Amber, who instinctively shrank back. “If you believe it was water, why don’t you drink the rest of the bottle?” Amber faltered, her eyes darting nervously. “I… I didn’t get a clear look…” Julian didn’t give her a chance to continue. “Drink it.” At his signal, one of his men grabbed Amber and effortlessly restrained her. Another uncorked the bottle and forced it toward her lips. “Help… help!” Amber’s tearful eyes sought Ethan desperately. Ethan hesitated, taking half a step forward before Robert’s cold glare froze him in place. “Young man,” Robert said warningly, “don’t drag me into your mess.” If Ethan couldn’t read between the lines, he had no business being where he was now. He clenched his fists, his face red with frustration, but he stayed put, glaring helplessly as Amber was forced to drink. Amber choked and sputtered, some of the liquid going down while the rest spilled out in a humiliating mess. The lively buzz of the venue had vanished, replaced by an uneasy stillness, broken only by the sound of her desperate retching. Seaview Isle’s elite collectively decided to stay rooted in place—no one dared to test their luck with Julian now. Julian’s gaze swept over the crowd, his voice cutting like a blade. “So, you all believe it was water?” Those he singled out quaked under his stare, stammering, “No, no! It was definitely alcohol!” “Amber said it was water, but we didn’t know anything!” “I can vouch—Amber said she wanted to ruin Clara tonight, and that Ethan always listens to her.” Ethan’s head snapped toward Amber, disbelief etched into his face. “You really said that?” Amber shook her head violently, tears streaming down her face. Julian’s fists tightened, veins bulging against his skin. Before his rage could boil over, a faint, pained sound escaped Clara’s lips. Julian’s expression immediately softened. “You’ll be fine. We’re heading to the hospital now.” As he carried her away, Julian’s eyes flicked toward the table of untouched drinks. “For those who can’t tell the difference between water and alcohol, let me help you learn. Each of you, one bottle. Drink until you finish. Robert, ensure they comply.”
Robert respectfully watched Julian and his entourage leave. When he turned back to the stunned crowd, the faint smile on his face vanished. “Alright, everyone. Start drinking,” he said curtly. The long table was lined with at least a dozen bottles of liquor. To finish them all, it was clear—each person would have to down an entire bottle. Amber, already pale from being forced to drink half a bottle earlier, clung desperately to Ethan’s arm, trembling as she hid behind him. The others immediately turned on her. “This is your fault! Why did you say it was water?” “Clara’s allergic to alcohol! How could you force her to drink?” “She tried to leave earlier. Why couldn’t you just let her go? What was the point of making her stay?” Amber clutched Ethan’s sleeve, tears brimming in her eyes. “Ethan, you have to believe me. I swear, I saw Clara switch glasses.” “She’s smart,” Amber added, her voice shaky. “She wouldn’t do anything to hurt herself.” Ethan frowned slightly, considering her words. “You’re right. She must have done it to make me feel guilty.” Robert watched their back-and-forth with waning patience before finally cutting in. “Young man, how you figure this out is your problem. Right now, we have other matters to deal with.” Ethan hesitated. “Mr. Hayes, the gala is about to begin. If we’re all drunk, it would be disrespectful to the hosts.” Robert’s cane struck the floor twice, hard enough to echo. “Do you really think you can insult Mr. Reid and still waltz into the gala as if nothing happened?” The room collectively froze, the gravity of the situation finally sinking in. Ethan licked his dry lips nervously. “Does Mr. Reid know Clara Bennett personally?” Robert’s expression was unreadable. “All I know is that this is Mr. Reid’s first time in Oceanhaven.” “Exactly,” Ethan said, visibly relaxing. “There’s no way Clara knows someone of his stature.” Amber sniffled pitifully. “Clara really messed up this time. Now Mr. Reid has the wrong impression of us.” “She’s so thoughtless,” Amber continued, her tone aggrieved. “How could she not think about how this would affect you?” Ethan’s face darkened. “She’s being ridiculous.” Robert rapped his cane again, his tone sharp. “This is the last time I’ll ask. Will you drink willingly, or shall I make you?” ***** The first thing I noticed when I regained consciousness was that I was lying on a hospital bed. The vibration of my phone on the nightstand pulled me from my thoughts. I reached for it instinctively and saw a string of missed calls from Ethan. At the top were his messages. Ethan: [Clara, you’ve really disappointed me.] Ethan: [I didn’t expect you to care about me like Amber, but at least don’t stab me in the back.] Ethan: [Keeping our marriage a secret was the best decision I’ve ever made.] Ethan: [Are you trying to seduce Julian Reid to spite me? Don’t kid yourself. A man like him would never go for someone like you.] Ethan: [Explain everything to Mr. Reid, or don’t bother coming back to me.] The memories of the gala, the calculated humiliation, came flooding back. Rage swelled in my chest, choking me. I clutched at my heart, coughing violently. A warm hand rested gently on my back, soothing me. “Lara, how are you feeling?” I froze, eyes wide in shock. “What… what did you call me?” It had been so long since anyone had called me “Lara” that I almost forgot it was my name before Clara. Before I became Clara, I was the heiress to Aetherion Biosciences—a name that used to mean something. A name that now brought back memories too painful to bear. My breath hitched as I recoiled, pulling away and curling into myself. “I’m sorry,” the man said, his voice trembling. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Look at me, Lara. Do you recognize me?” Something in his gentle tone calmed my spiraling thoughts. Slowly, I rubbed my eyes and focused on his face. His features sharpened, and the familiar boy from my memories emerged. “Jules?”
When I was five, my parents took me to a remote village for a charity project. A line of children, dressed in tattered clothes, stood before us, each recounting their hardships. But my gaze landed on a quiet boy at the back of the group. He was thin and unremarkable compared to the others, yet the moment our eyes met, something about him pulled me in. “Dad, I want that boy!” I tugged on my father’s sleeve insistently. My father, a notorious pushover when it came to me, didn’t hesitate to indulge me. That was how Jules came to live with us in Oceanhaven. I never knew his full name. I just followed him around, calling him Jules. Seven years older than me, Jules was mature beyond his years, a stark contrast to my chatty, boisterous nature. He was quiet and withdrawn, not particularly skilled at socializing. But he wove me colorful flower crowns and carried my least favorite backpack without complaint. To me, he was like an older brother, someone I cherished almost as much as my parents. But Jules stayed with us for less than six months. That winter, I was kidnapped—again—and broke my leg while escaping. Jules stayed by my side, his eyes red with unshed tears, keeping vigil all night. The next day, he told my father he wanted to enroll in a military academy. He left shortly after and never came back. Looking at him now, I marveled at how much he’d changed. “Jules, you’re so tall now.” “Are you really the Julian of Ardent Industries?” I asked, piecing things together from Ethan’s messages. A mix of pride and inevitability swelled in my chest. He smiled, just as he used to, and gently ruffled my hair. “I’m sorry I took so long to find you.” I shook my head. “It’s a good thing you weren’t around. Otherwise, you’d have been dragged down with me.” After my parents’ downfall, Aetherion Biosciences changed hands overnight. I went from being the envied heiress to a punching bag for anyone with a grudge. No one spoke up for me. They all said, “The sins of her parents must be repaid by her.” Hurting me became the “right” thing to do. The weight of those memories made me genuinely believe that Jules staying away had spared him from the same fate. Julian’s gaze darkened, guilt flickering in his eyes. “I should have been there. If I’d acted sooner, they wouldn’t have…” “Stop blaming yourself,” I interrupted. “What happened was inevitable. Even if you’d been there, you couldn’t have changed it.” Julian pressed his lips into a thin line. “Lara, there’s something you need to know—” The sound of the door opening cut him off. My attention shifted to the man who entered. “Mr. Reid, Ms. Bennett,” he began, nodding at me before handing Julian a tablet. “Someone’s spreading false narratives about the gala online and using bots to target Ms. Bennett. It’s already trending.” I frowned, reaching for my phone, but Julian pulled me closer, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “Let’s check out together.” My back pressed against his chest, the scent of sandalwood enveloping me. I glanced up at him uneasily. Julian’s expression was focused and composed as he studied the screen. I silently berated myself for my discomfort. This was Jules. No matter how many years had passed or what title he now carried, he was still the boy who once made me flower crowns. I forced myself to focus on the tablet in his hands, brushing away any stray thoughts.
The media latched onto a heavily edited video of me being dragged across the red carpet by Marcus due to my injured leg. In the distorted version, it appeared as though I was desperately trying to crash the event for attention. Internet users, ever ready to pounce, created GIFs of the footage, pairing them with degrading captions like, “Desperate diva wants the spotlight!” Alongside the video were photos of me holding a wine glass, seemingly approaching former collaborators, and they were twisted into an entirely new narrative. Comments flooded in. [Clara Bennett isn’t just a slandering bitch. She’s also hunting for shady deals. What a perfect match for the bitch title!] [This is hilarious! Every exec she approached bolted like she had the plague. What a disaster.] [Look at her pathetic face. Honestly, if she’s that desperate, I’d pay for one night.] [I’m serious—Clara Bennett should just sell herself at this point.] The vitriol escalated after footage surfaced of Amber being rushed to the hospital for a stomach pump. What started as casual trolling turned into outright malice. Amber fueled the fire, posting two new photos on Space X. The first was her hospital record. The second was a picture of two intertwined hands, the couple’s rings on full display. The ring on her finger stopped me cold. It was the very ring I had picked out as a gift for our seventh wedding anniversary. Ethan had dismissed it, claiming the overseas flagship store appointment was unnecessary. Now, there it was—on Amber’s hand. Amber: [Being harassed by a lunatic landed me in the ER. Thankfully, I have someone who’ll always protect me. @Ethan.] Almost immediately, Ethan shared her post with a comment. Ethan: [Don’t let a crazy person ruin your mood, sweetheart. Remember, you’re destined to shine, while some people are only fit to rot in the gutter.] The comment section erupted, with tags directed at me. Among the insults were responses from verified accounts—former colleagues, no less—detailing alleged instances of my workplace bullying. These weren’t random strangers. They included people I had been close to, people I had helped financially when they were struggling, even a woman I once shared meals with. My fingers trembled as I hovered over the flood of hateful comments, unable to look away. “Don’t,” Julian said, taking my hand firmly in his. “They’re not worth it.” I tightened my grip on his hand, my resolve hardening. “I need to remember the faces they’re showing me now.” It reminded me of when my family fell. Those who once held me in high regard had been the first to shatter me, eagerly casting themselves as victims while I became their scapegoat. I thought I had learned my lesson, but I still gave my trust to the wrong people. “Am I an idiot?” I asked bitterly. Julian gently wiped the tears from my cheeks. “A flower that blooms in the dirt will always attract pests, jealous of its beauty and bent on destroying it. The flower isn’t at fault—it’s the vile insects that are to blame.” He held my gaze, his tone firm. “From now on, I’ll be the wall that shields you. You just focus on growing and flourishing.” “Thank you, Jules,” I said, removing my SIM card and tossing it into the trash without hesitation. “You’re right. It’s time to leave the past behind.” Neither the joy of my youth nor the solace I once found in Ethan could justify the pain he had inflicted on me. We had gone from supporting each other to being strangers. By sparing him the exposure of his infidelity, I had already shown him mercy.
Julian wasn’t one to waste time. One phone call later, the gala organizers released the full footage from the evening. The unedited video captured Amber’s fans attacking me on the red carpet and Ethan and his group coercing me to drink inside. It didn’t take long for the colleagues who had falsely accused me of workplace bullying to receive lawsuits and termination letters. They didn’t even get to enjoy their moment of infamy before losing their jobs. As for Ethan, the fallout hit him even harder. Word spread that his entire production line had ground to a halt. Julian later informed me that Ethan was frantically trying to find out where I was. “If he apologizes and admits he was wrong, what will you do?” Julian asked. He was rubbing his temples lightly—a telltale sign of his tension. I placed a freshly baked cake in front of him. “Ethan Ward would never admit he was wrong.” A smudge of frosting clung to Julian’s lips, an endearing contrast to his usual sharp demeanor. “Why do you think that?” I gave him a wry smile. “The signs were there all along. I just got used to ignoring them.” The first time Ethan and Amber were caught kissing by the media, I cried and confronted him. He dismissed me, calling me immature, and whisked Amber off to see the northern lights. That was when I realized some changes were beyond my control. What I didn’t expect was Ethan’s way of retaliating, a grand fireworks display and a public proposal to Amber. The water army didn’t miss a beat, redirecting their attacks toward me once again. [Sure, Mr. Ward was a bit harsh at the gala, but anyone would be annoyed being hounded by a lunatic.] [Clara brought this on herself.] Julian, always quick to sense trouble, was ready to step in, but I stopped him. “I’ll handle it,” I said calmly. “He and I need closure.” He had drained every last ounce of gratitude I had left. This time, I wouldn’t waver. I compiled a slideshow of our years together—moments I had originally planned to gift him for his birthday—and uploaded it online. Now, it served as a very different kind of gift, one he couldn’t ignore. Amid the firestorm that followed, I reposted my wedding photo. This time, the comment section pinned a response from a city hall official. [Yes, they’re legally married. I officiated the ceremony myself. Mr. Ward’s secret marriage was understandable for his career, but proposing to another woman while still married is a criminal act.] Julian didn’t stop there. He dug up footage of Ethan meeting with Crimson Ballet’s director, brazenly offering investment money to replace me as the lead dancer. The narrative flipped in an instant. Ethan, once a romantic hero, was now a reviled scumbag. Amber, once the sweet ingenue, became the ultimate homewrecker. It all unraveled so fast. Letting go wasn’t as hard as I’d imagined. On Ethan’s Space X post of his proposal to Amber, I left a comment. Clara: [Congratulations. But divorce me first.] Not long after, Ethan deleted the post. Moments later, I received a private message from him. Ethan: [Let’s meet and talk.]
I replied with a single word. Clara: [Fine.] Ethan and I needed closure, one way or another. He chose our old meeting spot—the chapel on the mountaintop. Back when we first settled in Oceanhaven, Ethan often brought me there on dates. Money was tight, so he’d pick wildflowers to make me necklaces and crowns. As things improved, he’d make annual donations to the chapel for my birthday. I still remembered him standing before the cross, hands clasped in earnest prayer. “God bless my Lara with peace and joy.” Those words still echoed in my mind, though the man who spoke to them felt like a stranger now. When I arrived, Ethan’s gaze immediately fell to my leg. “Your injury hasn’t healed properly. Why didn’t you let me pick you up?” I couldn’t help but scoff. “Wasn’t it you who forced me to dance for your precious Amber even when my leg was worse?” Ethan froze, a flicker of guilt crossing his face. “You’re right. That was wrong of me, and I’m sorry. But did you really have to blow everything up online? Do you have any idea how much damage you’ve caused my company? Years of hard work—gone in an instant!” As he spoke, his initial remorse evaporated, replaced by anger and frustration. I watched him calmly, curious to see what else he could say to justify himself. “Let’s just put the past behind us,” he continued, exhaling sharply. “It’s just my luck to have married someone like you.” The confidence in his tone was maddening. “Money can be regained,” he added, “but Amber’s reputation—you almost ruined her!” He studied my expression, mistaking my silence for hesitation, and his lips curved into a smirk. “You’ll post a statement online saying our marriage has been dead for years and that we’d already agreed to divorce. Make it clear that Amber isn’t a homewrecker.” I stared at him, incredulous. This had to be the most absurd thing I’d heard all year. “You think the public is stupid? If we had agreed to divorce, why would I have shared our marriage certificate?” Ethan frowned in irritation. “Say you were acting out of lingering feelings—hurt and resentment. People will believe it.” My disdain must have been obvious because he turned his head uncomfortably, avoiding my gaze. “Listen,” he said, his voice softening. “I promise I won’t say anything rash to the media again. And if you still want to visit Roselle, I’ll take you after all this is settled.” “No, thank you,” I replied coldly. “I wouldn’t want to impose on you. Save your grand gestures for Amber.” Ethan sighed in exasperation. “You’re still jealous, Clara. Don’t you realize how exhausting this childish behavior is? Go to Roselle if you want, but when you come down the mountain, you’d better hold a press conference and clear everything up.” He paused before adding, “And make sure you explain things to Julian, too.” His shamelessness was staggering. I took a deep breath to steady myself. “Why should I sacrifice my dignity to protect a cheating husband and his mistress?” Ethan’s expression darkened. “Was it necessary to say something so cruel?” “I’m just stating facts,” I said, pulling a prepared divorce agreement from my bag. “If you don’t want this to get uglier, then sign it.” He stared at the papers, his initial surprise giving way to a sneering smirk. “Do you think threatening me with divorce will scare me? Without me, you’re just a pariah, hated by everyone.” As he spat out those final words, I felt something in my chest shatter. Ethan looked at me with cold contempt. “And don’t tell me Julian Reid actually cares about you. Do you think someone like him would be interested in damaged goods?” He let out a malicious laugh. “You’re not young anymore, Clara. And men like Julian don’t go for women I’ve already used and discarded.”
I slapped him hard across the face. “You’re disgusting.” My hand trembled, the sensation of touching Ethan making my skin crawl. I rubbed my palm vigorously, as if trying to erase the contact. Ethan’s eyes blazed with fury. “Disgusting? You didn’t seem to think so when you were begging me like a slut in bed!” He grabbed me roughly. “If you want to get laid, just say it. Stop playing hard to get. Let’s go to the car—I’ll give you what you need.” I struggled against him, and when he leaned in to kiss me, I kneed him hard in the groin. “Ugh—you bitch!” Ethan groaned, doubling over. “Fine, let’s see how you get down this mountain on your own!” With that, he stormed off and drove away. The chapel was on the outskirts of town, accessible by a winding road that stretched up the mountain. I’d taken a cab to get here. Unfortunately, the weather turned against me. Rain began pouring down, heavy and relentless. I opened my rideshare app, but no drivers were willing to pick up. Resigned, I started toward the chapel for shelter, but headlights pierced through the downpour as a black SUV pulled up in front of me. Julian stepped out, umbrella in hand, tilting it to shield me from the rain. “Jules?” I asked, startled. “What are you doing here?” “I’ve been following you since you left,” he admitted, draping his jacket over my shoulders. It was warm, carrying his faint scent. “I figured you were meeting Ethan. I couldn’t leave you alone.” It had been so long since anyone showed me such care. For a moment, my heart felt… soft. “It’s fine. I can handle him. Did you run into Ethan just now?” Julian’s expression soured. “I did. He even tried to block my car.” I tensed. “Are you okay?” “With that flashy little sports car of his? Please,” Julian said, a hint of pride in his tone. “He wouldn’t stand a chance against my custom SUV.” His uncharacteristic smugness made his strong, stoic features seem almost boyish. For a fleeting moment, it felt like I was looking at the teenager who used to buy me candy. Julian picked up the rain-soaked divorce papers. “He refused to sign?” “Yeah.” I sighed, frustration creeping into my voice. “I don’t get him. We can’t stand each other anymore, so why won’t he let go?” “Because he’s a selfish bastard,” Julian said bluntly, watching me carefully for a reaction. When he saw I wasn’t upset, a faint smile tugged at his lips. “Meeting you all the way out here was probably part of his plan. He wanted to make things difficult for you.” “Not really,” I said with a small laugh. “We used to come here on dates.” Julian’s face darkened. “What did you do here?” “Nothing much—walked around, prayed at the chapel.” “Let’s go pray,” Julian said suddenly, taking my hand. The chapel’s priest recognized me immediately, despite my two-year absence. “You look radiant, as if your spirit has found clarity and purpose. Truly, it’s something to celebrate.” Julian bowed slightly. “Father, how much has Ethan Ward donated here? I’ll give you a hundred times that.” His generosity earned him two bracelets in addition to the recognition of being the chapel’s top benefactor. Julian slipped one onto my wrist, his voice steady and certain. “Lara, as long as I’m here, nothing in this world will ever hurt you again.” As I touched the bracelet, a sense of peace washed over me. But when I glanced up, I froze. Ethan was back.
To be exact, it was Ethan and Amber. It seemed that when Ethan climbed the mountain to “apologize” to me, Amber had been waiting conveniently at the foot of it. What was this? Some twisted power play between the wife and the mistress? The thought made my stomach churn. I clung to Julian’s arm and said, “Let’s get out of here.” Ethan quickly closed the distance between us. “Mr. Reid, could I trouble you for just a few minutes?” “No,” Julian replied, his voice curt and firm. “Mr. Reid…” Amber’s voice was saccharine sweet, dripping with a syrupy charm. “Please, just one chance.” “Not happening.” Julian’s tone was even colder this time. Amber froze, clearly taken aback. Ethan turned to me instead. “Clara, don’t you think there’s been some kind of misunderstanding between us?” He gave me a soft, familiar smile, the kind I hadn’t seen in ages. His eyes reflected my image, as if I was still his whole world. For a brief second, I faltered. My body, guided by muscle memory, nearly nodded in response. Julian pinched the back of my neck sharply. I jolted back to my senses, nearly slapping myself for the lapse. Ethan’s smile faltered, but he quickly composed himself. “Don’t forget the promise you made me.” I laughed coldly. “What promise?” I crossed my arms and raised an eyebrow. “If you really want to hear it again, fine. Let me spell it out for you.” I announced, “You broke your vows, cheated on me during our marriage, and Amber knowingly stepped into all of this. You even hired trolls to slander me. And the way you both behaved at the banquet? I will never forgive you.” Ethan’s face darkened, Amber’s smile froze in place, but Julian looked rather amused. He slid his arm around my waist and, without missing a beat, brushed past Ethan. “I wish you and Amber Vaughn all the best. May the two of you live shamelessly ever after.” Ethan’s jaw clenched as he turned to me, anger flickering in his eyes. “Clara, are you really going to debase yourself like this?” I felt Julian’s arm muscles tense, his restrained anger palpable. I quickly grabbed his wrist and whispered, “Ignore him.” The ultimate insult is indifference. Against someone like Ethan, that was all it takes. For the next few days, I committed to ignoring him completely. Ethan didn’t have my new number, and I’d already blocked him on every social platform. If he wanted to contact me, he wouldn’t even know where to begin. Meanwhile, I spent my time at Julian’s hillside villa, tending to flowers and feeding the birds. It was as if time itself had slowed down. The next time I heard about Ethan was while watching a dance competition show I loved. After a group of contestants finished their performance, the host announced a surprise guest. Amber stepped onto the stage. Her appearance didn’t exactly shock me, but it did pique my curiosity. Amber had always been good at self-promotion. That whole “dream girl of the dance world” title? Self-appointed. The recent public backlash had forced her to lay low for a bit, but I knew her. She’d never stay quiet for long. And here she was, clawing her way back into the spotlight. Dressed in a simple white spaghetti-strap dress, her makeup perfectly natural yet impossibly meticulous, Amber smiled into the camera with an air of brave defiance. “I know I’ve made mistakes,” she began, her voice steady and earnest. “I’ve hurt people who didn’t deserve it. And no matter how much I try to explain, those mistakes are unforgivable. But even with everything I’m facing now, I don’t regret the choices I’ve made. True love is never wrong. Suppressing your feelings for someone is cruel—to yourself and to them. I’ll do my best to make amends to those I’ve unintentionally hurt, but I won’t give up on Ethan. Love is never a sin.” Her words, soaked in faux sincerity, were typical Amber. She announced that she’d perform a solo dance titled Love. At first, I barely paid attention, my gaze lazily flicking to the screen now and then. But the moment the music started and Amber began moving, I shot up from my seat. That dance—it was mine.
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