Chapter 3

The next morning, before I was even fully awake, Ethan burst into the room.

He gave a cold, blunt command.

"Chloe, give that engagement gown you designed to Mia. Treat it as her birthday gift."

If he hadn't mentioned it, I would have almost forgotten that our engagement party was only a month away.

That gown was designed by me specifically for our engagement. From design to final tailoring, it had taken me over a year.

"You're a designer anyway. You can just make another one..."

Ethan seemed to realize he was pushing it, trying to justify his words. But I simply nodded and agreed.

"Sure. I'll go pick it up for you."

My parents had divorced when I was a kid, and my Nana had raised me.

During the dark days right after Nana passed away, if Ethan hadn't been by my side, I don't think I would have survived.

Consider the gown my final payment to him. He was once the only light in my dark world. But from now on, we owed each other nothing.

Staring at my thin, lonely back, a sudden pang of guilt struck Ethan's heart. He quickly called out to me.

His voice softened. "Or... just give me the address. I'll have someone else pick it up..."

I shook my head and declined gently.

"No need. If they ruin it, Miss Sterling won't be happy."

Ethan froze, his mouth opening and closing.

"Name your price. I'll buy it from you..."

Before he could finish, I walked away without looking back.

Halfway there, Mia texted me, telling me to bring the gown directly to the company.

Unsurprisingly, Mia used the stunning gown to show off in front of everyone. With her vague, suggestive comments, the office gossip mill went into overdrive, assuming she was the one marrying Ethan.

That afternoon, Ethan called me.

He sounded exceptionally pleased, his voice unusually gentle.

"Chloe, your design is incredible. Mia absolutely loves it."

"Great," I muttered, completely drained, wanting nothing more than to hang up.

He rushed to explain, almost as if trying to convince himself, "Well, the engagement party isn't that big of a deal anyway. When we actually get married, you can design an even better one."

I let out a hollow laugh, offering no real reply.

That afternoon, I started packing and shipping my belongings out of the house.

Just as I finished, Mia suddenly walked in.

Using her birthday yesterday as an excuse, Ethan had allowed her to leave work early to rest.

Ethan wasn't home yet. Holding a cat, she strolled into my room, intentionally flaunting how beautiful the gown looked on her. She made sure to emphasize that in the end, the dress belonged to whoever wore it best.

I ignored her completely and tried to walk past her.

Her face instantly darkened. She blocked the doorway, stroking the Devon Rex cat in her arms with aggressive force.

"Trash will always be trash," she sneered, her voice venomous. "You don't deserve anything beautiful. A crow can fly as high as it wants, but it will never become a peacock."

Then, she immediately covered the cat’s ears.

"Oh, not you, my sweet baby. At least you're a purebred."

Seeing my exit blocked, I turned back around.

Frustrated by my lack of reaction, Mia's expression turned vicious.

She lunged forward and snatched a vintage silver locket from my desk. My heart stopped, and I immediately reached out to grab it.

"What's this? Oh, oops..."

With the most pathetic acting ever, Mia let her hand slip. The locket slammed onto the hardwood floor, the delicate chain snapping and the metal casing denting badly.

An explosive wave of fury roared through me. I shoved her aside violently, dropping to my knees to gather the pieces.

The locket wasn't expensive, but it was the only thing Nana had left me when she died. It was my only connection to her. And this bitch had just ruined it.

Mia let out a triumphant, cruel laugh.

I stood up and slapped her across the face with everything I had.

Her eyes widened in sheer disbelief. Once the shock registered, her face twisted in rage.

"You dare hit me?! I'll kill you!"

Just then, the sound of Ethan’s car pulling into the driveway echoed from outside.

Mia stopped dead in her tracks, a scheming glint flashing in her eyes.

She raised her own hand and slapped herself hard on the other cheek. The skin instantly swelled up. Then, tears flooded her eyes as she began to sob hysterically.

"Cleo was just playing around! How could you beat me like this, Chloe?!"

Hearing her screams, Ethan burst into the room. He rushed to pull the sobbing girl into his arms, his face pale with worry.

"What happened?"

Mia’s eyes were red, looking like a helpless, wounded rabbit.

"It’s Chloe... she hates me and the kittens. We shouldn't even be here."

Ethan whispered sweet comforts to the girl in his arms. But when he looked up at me, his eyes were dead, and his voice was laced with pure poison.

"Are you really so heartless that you can't even tolerate Mia?!"

I opened my mouth to speak, but Mia suddenly fainted in his arms.

At that, the veins on Ethan’s neck bulged. He roared at me with every ounce of strength in his lungs, "Get out! Get the hell out of my house!"

He shoved me aside violently as he scooped Mia up to rush her to the hospital.

The force of his shove sent me crashing to the floor. The shattered pieces of the locket sliced deep into my palms. Blood pooled instantly.

But before I could even process the pain in my hands, a sharp, stabbing contraction tore through my lower abdomen. A cold sweat broke out over my entire body.

Warm, sticky blood began to seep through my jeans, staining the floor red.

I looked up at our framed photos on the wall. The happy smiles in them felt like a cruel joke.

With trembling fingers, I dialed 911.

By evening, I was lying in a sterile hospital bed. I touched my now completely empty, flat stomach, and the tears finally spilled over.

I opened my phone and clicked on Instagram. The first post on my feed was from Mia.

It was a picture of her and her cat, with a familiar, large male hand resting over hers.

The caption read: *My sweet baby, even if the whole world hates you, you’ll always have Mommy and Daddy.*

Without a second thought, I blocked and deleted her.

I returned to the house one last time to grab the rest of my bags. I left the medical report of my miscarriage on the dining table, sent Ethan a single text saying we were over, and walked out.

His reply came instantly:

*How long are you going to keep throwing this tantrum?*

I didn't reply. I walked away and never looked back.

It was already midnight when I checked into a high-end private recovery retreat.

My body belonged to me now. A miscarriage does severe damage to a woman's body, and I needed to heal.

I turned off my phone, blocked out all the toxic drama, and dedicated the next seven days entirely to my physical and emotional recovery.

***

In the blink of an eye, the seven days were up.

I planned to go back to Nana's old house in my hometown.

The moment I turned my phone back on, hundreds of text messages and missed calls flooded my screen. I was shocked to find that Ethan had been frantically searching for me like a madman.

I clicked on his most recent voice message. A wave of frantic, furious energy filled the room.