Chapter 1

In the seventh year of our marriage, an exclusive interview with Ethan Davis was published on Instagram.

The photo showed him standing next to his mentee, Hailey Brooks.

The caption was eye-catching:

[Ethan Davis: Great architecture has a soul. And great inspiration comes from the resonance of another soul.]

I silently gave it a double-tap.

Ten minutes later, that Instagram post was deleted.

It was replaced with a solo photo of Ethan, and the caption was changed to a standard, politically correct industry statement.

Immediately after, Ethan's call came through.

In the background, I could hear Hailey explaining through tears and his friends comforting her.

Ethan was absolutely furious.

"Chloe, are you out of your mind?"

"That was for work! What is the magazine company going to think because of your like?"

"How are people going to look at Hailey now? Why can't you just let me succeed?"

Before I could even reply, he hung up.

Five minutes later, Hailey’s burner Instagram account updated with a cozy photo of her and Ethan, both smiling brightly at the camera.

The caption read: [Behind the spotlight, you are my only inspiration.]

Ethan replied in the comments: [My muse]

In the past, I would have screenshotted it immediately, marched up to him with the evidence, and demanded an explanation.

But this time, I calmly locked my phone.

My heart didn't even skip a beat.

Ethan didn’t come home until late at night.

I sat at the dining table, staring blankly at a spread of cold food.

Yesterday was our seventh wedding anniversary.

I had booked a Michelin-starred restaurant three months in advance.

I even turned down a high-paying translation contract and waited for him there for three hours.

In the end, I only got a text: [There's an emergency at the studio. Something went wrong with the project, and Hailey can't handle it on her own.]

Before I could even reply, his Instagram stories updated.

It was a photo of him and Hailey eating street tacos and drinking beer, laughing happily.

The caption was: [A battlefield for the young, a youth of hustle.]

"Did you cook all this?"

Ethan took off his coat, tossed it onto the sofa, and sat down at the table.

Looking at the spread of cold food, his eyebrows furrowed.

"This looks completely unappetizing."

He picked up a plate, about to dump it into the trash.

If it were before, I would have rushed over to stop him.

But now, I just said calmly, "Go ahead. It's cold anyway."

He looked a bit surprised, set the plate back down, and perhaps feeling a little guilty, pulled a box out of his briefcase.

"For you," he said, waving it in front of me.

"Don't you always love Kengo Kuma's work?"

"This is a limited-edition architectural model he designed. I had a hard time getting my hands on it."

Whenever he felt he had gone too far, he would use a gift to shut me up.

But I remembered clearly—the one who loved Kengo Kuma was Hailey. I loved Tadao Ando.

I just took it and gave a faint, "Thanks."

Ethan's face darkened. He slammed the model onto the table and turned toward his study.

"I'm going to look over some blueprints. Get some rest."

The door slammed shut.

Sitting alone, a wave of exhaustion washed over me.

Not long after Ethan went into the study, his phone rang.

After hanging up, he rushed out, putting on his coat.

"The power tripped at the studio. Hailey's there alone and she's scared. I need to go check on her."

I looked at him, saying nothing.

My silence made him uncomfortable. He explained impatiently:

"It's not easy for a young girl to make it in this city alone. As her mentor, it's my job to look out for her."

"Chloe, can you stop being so petty?"

I replied flatly, "Sure, go ahead. Drive safe."

Ethan froze. He didn't expect me to let him go so easily.

He stared at me for a few seconds, then hurriedly left.

On the coffee table, his iPad screen was still lit up, showing the blueprints he was just reviewing.

I walked over to turn it off, but a Snapchat message from Hailey popped up on the screen.

[Hailey]: Ethan, where are you? I'm so scared. It's pitch black here.

I was about to look away, but the blueprint on the screen caught my eye.

It was the design for our dream home—the one Ethan and I had planned together.

Every single detail held our memories and our hopes for the future.

We had named it "Chloe's Haven."

But now, the file name had been changed to: [Hailey's Harbor - Final Draft].

My entire body froze.

Just then, the front door opened. Ethan was back.

He must have forgotten something.

The moment he walked in and saw me standing by his iPad, he lunged forward and shoved me away.

I stumbled backward, my elbow slamming hard against the sharp corner of the table. A sharp pain shot up my arm.

His face was contorted with rage as he quickly locked the iPad screen.

"Who allowed you to touch my things?"

"Chloe, do you have any concept of boundaries?"

"Is my work something you can just snoop through?"

After snapping at me, he finally noticed me clutching my elbow.

He scoffed impatiently, "Why are you so clumsy? Can't even stand straight?"

He paused, then added, "Fine, let's get you to the hospital to get it checked out."

I let out a cold laugh in my mind.

If he hadn't shoved me, how would I have fallen?

But I was too exhausted to argue. The pain was getting worse, and I needed to see a doctor.