Chapter 3

"Just drive. I don't feel good."

I didn't know why, but the pain in my lower stomach felt terribly wrong this time.

It felt as if something was tearing apart inside me.

Ethan didn't say another word and started the engine.

Our house was only a short drive from the hospital—just two intersections away.

But halfway through the first intersection, his phone blasted through the car speakers.

The moment Ethan picked up, his voice softened into a gentle, caring tone.

"Ethan, I just had a horrible nightmare. I'm so scared... Can you please come over and stay with me?"

Hailey's whimpering, babyish voice filled the car.

I pressed a hand against my stomach, forcing down the rage, and turned my head toward the window.

"Chloe, Hailey isn't feeling well. I need to go to her," Ethan said, already pulling the car over. "I'll let you off here. You can walk the rest of the way."

I whipped my head around to stare at him, my eyes filled with cold disbelief.

Hailey just had a nightmare—it wasn't a medical emergency. And he was going to dump me on the side of the road for that?

"I can't walk," I whispered.

I could barely move my legs. How was I supposed to walk to the ER?

Hearing this, Ethan's temper flared instantly. "You just bumped your stomach! It's not like your legs are broken. Why can't you walk?"

"The hospital is literally half a mile from here. When we were in school, we ran that distance in three minutes. Stop being so damn dramatic!"

With that, he got out of the car, marched over to my side, opened the door, and aggressively dragged me out onto the pavement.

"I'll come back to get you later," he snapped.

As he got back into the driver's seat, I heard him mutter "annoying bitch" before slamming the door and speeding off.

I collapsed onto the concrete, curling into a ball. The pain between my legs felt like a hot iron. I couldn't move a single inch.

Using the last ounce of my strength, I dialed 911. The moment I managed to rasp out my location, my vision went black, and I passed out.

When I woke up, it was already the middle of the night.

The doctor told me I had suffered a ruptured ectopic pregnancy with severe internal bleeding. They had to perform an emergency surgery to remove one of my fallopian tubes. My chances of getting pregnant in the future were now significantly lower.

Listening to his voice, I stared blankly at the hospital ceiling for half an hour.

I felt completely hollowed out, as if all the blood had been drained from my body. I didn't even have the tears to cry.

Finally, the ringing of my phone broke the silence. It was Ethan.

"Where the hell are you? I checked the house and it's empty. Chloe, you're really pushing it now. Are you seriously running away from home over a stupid argument?"

His roaring voice nearly shattered my eardrum.

If he had cared even a fraction of an percent, he would have checked the hospital admission records.

But he had probably just breezed through the ER for two minutes before rushing back home.

"I'm at the hospital. VIP Wing, Room 709," I said, my voice dead.

There was a long silence on the other end. "Chloe, do you think my money grows on trees? You got a little stomach ache and you checked yourself into a VIP hospital room? Do you have any idea that one night here costs more than your entire yearly allowance?"

How hilarious. Every single cent Ethan owned came from my family's resources. And he was accusing me of wasting *his* money?

"I used my own money—"

"Don't make me laugh. You're a housewife, Chloe. Where would you get that kind of cash unless you've been skimming from the joint account I set up for you? I don't have time for this. Just wait there, I bought you some dinner."

A few minutes later, Ethan walked in.

He tossed a plastic takeout box onto my bedside table. Inside were just scraps of leftovers—mostly oil, chili peppers, and green onions.

Just minutes before he arrived, I had scrolled past Hailey’s latest Instagram story.

She had posted a photo of Ethan cooking in a kitchen with the caption: *I’ve been eating his cooking since we were kids, and I’ll never get tired of it. He said he wants to cook for me for the rest of our lives. What should I do? He’s such a perfect man, I seriously want to have his babies!*

Someone had commented: *Don't just talk, go get your man and make it happen!*

Hailey had replied with a blushing emoji.

So, the food Ethan brought me was literally the scraps they didn't finish.

"It looks disgusting," I said, looking away. "Take it and get out."

With those words, Ethan's face turned livid. The rage in his eyes looked as if he wanted to strangle me.

He stepped forward and violently grabbed my neck, pinning my head to the pillow. "Do you think because I've been nice to you lately, you can talk to me like this?"

"Is this all because I gave your stupid yellow diamond to Hailey? How much is that trash even worth? I have taken care of you for seven years! You're throwing a tantrum over a piece of rock? Who the hell do you think you are, Chloe?"

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