The next morning, Ethan was back. Different expensive clothes, same expensive watch,
always flaunting his wealth. A woman stormed
up, screaming, “You homewrecker! You
shameless hussy!”
“Tiffany, what the hell?” Ethan snapped.
Tiffany. His fiancée. Apparently, Ethan had
discovered she’d slept with her ex right
before their wedding. He’d called it off. She
hadn’t taken it well.
I looked at her. “We broke up. This has
nothing to do with me. Leave me out of it.” I
tried to leave, but she blocked me. “You’re
not going anywhere!” She lunged. Ethan
grabbed her arm, shoving her hard. She fell,
hitting the ground, blood blooming beneath
<
her.
Ethan panicked. We rushed her to the
hospital. Miscarriage. She was two months
pregnant. They’d only been together for one.
The baby wasn’t his. Ethan was livid. Cheated
on and almost saddled with someone else’s
kid.
As I turned to leave, Ethan grabbed my hand.
“Chloe, you saw! She lied! She played me for
a fool!”
I wrenched my hand free. “Just like you
played me.”
He froze. “I didn’t mean to pretend to be
L
poor. I just wanted to see if you were really
into me. Now I know. You’re the one who truly
loves me.”
I cringed. “Ethan, don’t you dare talk about
love! You deserve to be cheated on!”
His facade crumbled. “Chloe, you should be
thrilled I came back. Don’t let your pride ruin
this. You could live in a mansion, have
anything you want, just for keeping me happy.
Be realistic. You’ll never have this life on your
own.”
