Framed by My Fiancée and Her Assistant

I took two steps forward, my gaze sliding past him and fixing directly on Selena.

“Selena,” I said evenly, “three days ago, you swore before me that you’d cut ties with this man and begged for my forgiveness. You cried then, too.”

I tilted my head slightly. “Tell me, are your tears more sincere now? Or do they just look better in front of an audience?”

Her face blanched, her eyes darting nervously.

Then, as if finding courage, she clutched Lucas tighter and screamed, “Ethan! That’s enough!”

“You forced me back then! I was scared you’d hurt Lucas!”

“Now I finally understand—running away won’t solve anything. You’ll never let him go!”

“You just can’t stand that he and I truly love each other!”

“True love?” I echoed with a cold smile. “So your version of ‘true love’ is to parade your lover in a wheelchair, begging for sympathy?”

“Is this what you call protecting him?”

I gave a short, humorless laugh. “Seems your love comes pretty cheap.”

“You—!” Selena trembled with fury.

Lucas caught her hand and murmured gently, trying to calm her before looking up at me again.

“Mr. Cole,” he said, his voice soft but trembling, “I know you despise me.”

“I ruined your marriage with Selena. I’m sorry. If you want revenge, I’ll take it.”

“You can insult me, hurt me—whatever you wish. But please, don’t twist Selena’s feelings. She truly cared for you once.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You keep saying I forced her into marriage. That I’m cruel, ruthless…”

I paused. My gaze sharpened, voice dropping to a chilling calm.

“Since I’ve already been painted as the villain, wouldn’t it be a waste not to live up to everyone’s expectations?”

I took another step forward, closing the distance between us.

Lucas stiffened, instinctively trying to retreat—but the wheelchair held him in place. Selena rushed to block me, her voice trembling. “W-What are you going to do?”

“In front of everyone, do you dare hurt Lucas?”

“Relax,” I said lightly. “I won’t touch him—not yet.”

My eyes drifted to his cast leg. I smiled faintly. “A broken leg, huh? Make sure you take good care of it.”

I let my tone turn sharp, deliberate. “You’ll need it for the long road ahead.”

“Or maybe,” I added softly, “you won’t—depending on where you’re headed.”

Their expressions froze—hers pale with fear, her rigid with confusion. I ignored them both, as well as the whispers rippling through the crowd, and walked out of the hall without looking back.

The night air outside was cool, the murmurs inside fading as I reached my car.

Just as I started the engine, my phone buzzed. Selena’s father.

“Ethan,” his voice came, low and weary. “Selena… her mother and I spoiled her. She’s always been willful.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that tonight. On her behalf, I apologize.”

He hesitated, expecting a courteous reply.

I stayed silent.

He cleared his throat, his tone shifting—gentle at first, then probing.

“But Ethan, no matter how angry you were…”

“You shouldn’t have had someone break Lucas’s leg.”

“That was too much. If word spreads, it won’t look good for the Cole family, will it?”

A short, cold laugh escaped me. “Uncle Hart,” I cut him off, “which eye of yours saw me order that?”

There was a pause on the line—then his voice rose, laced with righteous certainty.

“Who else could it have been but you?”

“Come on, Ethan. Everyone knows. Lucas and Selena had just grown close when it happened.”

He scoffed. “No one’s stupid.”