He Saved My Life Then Destroyed It

I didn't answer.

I glanced at the new text message on my phone.

The profile picture was a blatant provocation: a photo of that woman and Ethan kissing. I opened the message, and a voice note auto-played.

"Chloe, I told you Ethan wouldn't let you get away with this. Your butler's broken wrist was just a little lesson."

"Ethan said you have to come and apologize to me. In person."

"I'll be waiting."

"Doesn't everyone say Ethan loves you more than life itself? I'd love to see just how much." The woman sent a few more photos. "Which of these wardrobes do you think would look best in the master bedroom?"

"Ethan says the most dangerous place is the safest. So, as soon as I'm discharged tomorrow, I'm moving into your house."

"And that art studio of yours? I'll be remodeling it."

Listening to the woman's triumphant voice, I looked up at the massive wedding portrait of us hanging in the hall. The irony was so thick it was suffocating. I toyed with a palette knife, and with a sharp flick of my wrist, the blade flew through the air and pierced the eye of the smiling Ethan in the photograph.

"Disgusting."

I walked out of the hall just as Ethan was directing his men to unload a truck of luxury furniture. We nearly collided, and his expression froze for a rare moment. I just leaned against the doorway, listening to that woman's gleeful voice from behind him.

"Ethan, why aren't you going in?"

Then, her head turned, and her eyes met mine.

"Oh, Chloe," she purred, linking her arm through Ethan's. She tilted her head, a smirk playing on her lips. "Are you here to welcome me?"

"Figured out how you're going to apologize yet?"

I looked at her arrogant face, at the fleeting indulgence in Ethan's eyes, and a sharp, suffocating pain clenched my heart. Before I could speak, Ethan interjected.

"The doctor said Scarlett needs to rest." His voice was impossibly gentle when he spoke her name. "This house is large enough. She won't be in your way. Chloe, don't squander the last chance I'm giving you."

I truly couldn't understand.

Ethan.

What gave him the right? Did he really think I would just take this lying down? That I would abandon all my principles, all my boundaries, for him? Again? Hearing his self-righteous tone, I laughed. As I did, Arthur took down the defaced wedding portrait and asked me,

"Miss, where should this go?"

I saw Ethan's face instantly darken, so I pointed to the nearby fireplace.

"Burn it. Don't leave a single scrap."

Arthur nodded and gestured for someone to light the fire.

But Ethan stopped him, storming toward me. "What the hell is this melodrama?"

"Chloe," his voice turned cold, "I told you, you were in the wrong. I am helping Scarlett recover to atone for your mistake. Don't be so ungrateful!"

"That's right, Chloe."

Scarlett followed him.

"Ethan told me everything. He said you had a miscarriage because of your promiscuous past. A psychiatrist said you have to atone for your mistakes to be blessed with a child again. You're not appreciating Ethan's kindness, you're just making more trouble. You're forcing him to leave you."

Scarlett's words were poisoned needles, stabbing viciously into my chest, tearing open a long-healed wound to let it fester. I looked at her smug face, then at Ethan's too-late attempt to stop her. I laughed, then grabbed a fistful of her hair.

"Who gave you the nerve to speak to me like that?"

Before Scarlett could even whimper, I slammed her head against the heavy marble wall. A dull thud echoed through the room. Scarlett screamed, and Ethan rushed over, grabbing the hand I was about to raise again.

"That's enough!"

Ethan glared at me.

"Scarlett is naive! She speaks without thinking! But she's not wrong. How long are you going to keep acting like a goddamn lunatic?"