Chapter 1

Six years into my marriage with Ethan Miller, the girl of his dreams—his precious "one that got away"—finally returned to the country.

That very night, Ethan posted a cozy photo of them together on Instagram. His caption read: 【Welcome home, my princess.】

I casually left a comment underneath: 【Wishing you two a lifetime of happiness.】

Ethan deleted the post within seconds. A moment later, his FaceTime call came through, and he started screaming at me, calling me toxic, dirty-minded, and petty.

Clara, snuggled tightly in Ethan’s arms, sobbed into the camera, trying to "explain" things to me.

"Chloe, please don't be mad. I just got back and everything feels so foreign to me. That's why I asked Ethan to keep me company.”

“If you're really that upset, I can just book a flight back to London tonight."

Ethan gently stroked her hair, cooing at her to comfort her.

Then, he glared at me and grunted that I was just a paranoid, hysterical woman who didn't know her place. He told Clara not to lower herself to my level.

Staring at the two of them looking so deeply in love on my screen, I suddenly wondered what the hell I had been trying so hard to save this marriage for.

When Ethan finally came home, I was lying on the living room sofa, resting.

The moment he pushed the door open, the bright smile on his face instantly vanished, like someone had pressed a pause button.

He stood by the entryway for what felt like forever before slowly walking over to me. His very first words were full of judgment.

"Chloe, you knew today was our sixth anniversary. Why are you looking like a total slob? You didn't even bother to put on makeup."

"And look at those clothes you're wearing. They look hideous!"

If this had happened in the past, his words would have made me feel incredibly insecure and ashamed.

I would have rushed into the bedroom, put on a full face of makeup, changed into a beautiful dress, and begged for his approval.

But now, facing his naked disgust, I merely lay on the sofa, let out a slow yawn, and didn't even give him a second glance.

And of course, I didn't bother reminding him that our sixth anniversary was actually yesterday. It had already passed.

Seeing my lack of reaction, Ethan’s brows furrowed in annoyance.

He stood up and walked over to the dining table.

On it sat a cake shaped like a grand piano, topped with a small candle in the shape of the number "6."

Ethan stared at the cake, stunned for a second, before letting out a mocking laugh.

"Chloe, do you seriously think buying a piano-shaped cake makes you an artist like Clara? Stop trying to pretend you understand classical music. It’s honestly embarrassing."

He dipped his finger into the frosting, scooped a piece of the cake, and shoved it into his mouth.

Chewing, he grimaced.

"Gross. This tastes terrible. You really are useless, aren't you? You can't even get a simple cake right. Unlike Clara. The pastries she bakes are always so sweet and perfect."

In the past, hearing him tear me down while putting Clara on a pedestal would have triggered a massive, crying argument.

But now, I only felt a pang of pity for the cake. I had spent months in baking classes trying to perfect it, and I hadn't even gotten a single bite before he ruined it.

Ethan didn't get the hysterical reaction he expected, and he looked at me with a flicker of confusion.

He walked back over, kneeling before me with an air of aristocratic condescension. He pulled out an LV rose pendant necklace from his pocket and offered it to me like a master throwing a scrap to a dog.

"Alright, stop sulking. Did you honestly think I forgot our anniversary? I remembered. Look, I bought this specifically for you."

I glanced at the necklace. It was a beautiful piece, worth about three thousand dollars.

But I also knew it was a VIP complimentary gift—the kind they give you for free when you buy their new four-hundred-thousand-dollar high jewelry collection.

Clara had posted that exact $400k diamond necklace on her Instagram last night. It was stunning. It really was.

Looking at Ethan's handsome face hovering over mine, a sudden, inexplicable wave of disgust washed over me. I closed my eyes and turned my head toward the back of the sofa, ignoring him completely.

My cold shoulder drove Ethan crazy.

He grabbed my face, forcing me to look at him, his voice rising in anger.

"Chloe, don't throw a tantrum when I'm trying to be nice! You threw your fit on Instagram, and now I've brought you an expensive gift.”

“Clara was so shaken by your comment she almost booked a flight back to Europe last night!”

“She’s a young girl with no one else in this city. What's wrong with me spending a little time to make sure she's okay?”

“Was it really necessary for you to call me twenty-six times in a row? When will you grow up?!"

I opened my eyes, meeting his furious gaze, and said calmly, "I just don't like receiving free promotional leftovers. Why are you getting so worked up? If you want to go keep her company, go. I’m not stopping you."

At the word "leftovers," a flash of guilt crossed Ethan's eyes, but he quickly covered it with anger. "What nonsense are you talking about? Since when do I give you leftovers?!"

I looked at him like he was an idiot, unlocked my phone, and brought up the bank transaction notification of the $400,000 charge.

I held it right in front of his face. "Ethan, did you forget? The card you used is linked to my phone number for alerts."

Ethan snatched my phone and slammed it onto the hardwood floor.

"Chloe! You're spying on me! You linked my card to your phone just to keep tabs on me, didn't you? Don't think I don't know your little sick games! You're obsessed with controlling me!"

In the past, seeing him this angry would have terrified me. I would have dropped to my knees, apologized, begged for forgiveness, and immediately unlinked the account to appease him.

But now, it just felt incredibly pathetic.

His explosive rage was nothing more than the desperate act of a liar whose cover had been blown.