Chapter 1

1 After a one-night stand with the CEO, everyone thought I was obsessed with Ethan, that I'd drugged and seduced him. After all, to everyone else, I was Ethan’s lovesick puppy, hopelessly devoted. But the truth was, he was drunk and mistook me for Chloe. I naively believed Ethan would clear my name. Instead, he accused me of nymphomania and personally committed me to rehab. “Amelia, you’re pathetic. You’re not even in the same league as Chloe.” “I’ve never met such a shameless woman. Don’t come out until you’re cured.” Later, when my so-called “illness” was cured, it was Ethan who lost his mind. ... The day I left rehab, an unexpected figure waited for me. Ethan leaned against his car, hair perfectly styled. Three years had passed, but he hadn’t changed a bit. His chiseled features were as striking as ever, the expression on his face the familiar coldness and intensity I knew so well. I hadn't expected him to come. Two years earlier, disregarding my frail, battered body, he’d dragged me out of bed, thrown me to the floor, and called me vile. He’d accused me of scheming to get into his bed, of being a nymphomaniac. I'll never forget the disgust in his eyes, as if the mere sight of me was repulsive, as he crumpled the tissue he'd used to wipe his hands and tossed it at me like trash. Like a rabid animal, every breath he took was heavy and predatory. "Do you just love sleeping around? Do you have some kind of sick obsession?" Seeing me, Ethan flicked his cigarette to the ground, crushing it with his foot, then opened the car door, gesturing for me to get in. My heart pounded, my body trembling involuntarily. The rehab director whispered menacingly beside me, “Amelia, you’ve finally turned your life around. Don’t say anything out there to discredit us. We can put you back in just as easily as we let you out.” I knew they were afraid I'd expose them, but with freedom so close, I nodded hastily. Ethan, oblivious to our exchange, frowned impatiently. The director immediately started groveling apologies. I walked slowly towards the car, my steps unsteady. Noticing my stumble, Ethan frowned. “What’s wrong with your leg?” I hesitated, shaking my head. “Twisted it.” Ethan scoffed, “Serves you right.” Once inside the car, Ethan eyed me, finally sneering, “Two years. You’ve changed.” I didn't respond, the air in the car thick with tension. Ethan slammed on the gas. The silence was unusual for us. I used to chatter incessantly whenever I was alone with him, constantly trying to make him laugh. My parents had died in a car accident when I was twelve, and I’d been taken in by their close friends, Ethan's parents. Ethan, my adopted brother, had been kind to me at first. He knew I had nightmares, so he'd leave a candy on my pillow every night, telling me it would make even my dreams sweet. It wasn't until Chloe came back that I understood why. After Chloe’s return, though Ethan remained outwardly kind, something shifted. I foolishly believed that if I was even nicer to him, things would go back to the way they were. Then one day, Chloe invited me boating. Out on the lake, she suddenly jumped overboard. Frozen in shock, I watched as a figure dove in after her. When Ethan pulled an unconscious Chloe from the water, the warmth in his eyes was replaced by bone-deep hatred and disgust. From that day on, Ethan’s kindness vanished, replaced by open disdain. His friends mocked me, calling me Ethan’s pathetic lapdog. I realized his kindness had been conditional, and when he decided to withdraw it, I was powerless. The pampered princess vanished, replaced by the rejected, lovesick Amelia. Perhaps accustomed to my usual chatter, Ethan broke the silence. “Why so quiet? Tired?” His tone held a fleeting echo of his former gentleness. I instinctively touched my lips. I wanted to ask him how he’d feel if someone had sewn his lips shut with a needle and thread, just for reciting a prayer wrong. How he'd feel having to endure the ripping pain with every word, the metallic taste of blood filling his mouth. How he'd feel having to stifle his cries despite the agony. After experiencing that, would he still want to talk? Ethan’s knuckles tapped impatiently against the steering wheel. Remembering the director’s warning, I suppressed my emotions. “Nothing to say.” He glanced at me. “Playing hard to get now? Act normal when we see Mom and Dad.” Normal? What was normal? My breath grew short, the air suffocating. I fumbled for my inhaler. Seeing it, Ethan’s expression faltered, his eyes shifting away. “Asthma acting up again?” Yes, he knew about my chronic asthma, yet he’d abandoned me in that hellhole, never once sending medicine. If it weren't for a girl in my dorm sharing hers, I wouldn’t have survived. I put the inhaler away. “Sorry to bother you.” Ethan relaxed visibly, a slight smirk playing on his lips. “You’ve learned your lesson.” At a red light, he leaned closer. The scent of his cologne made my stomach churn. I avoided his gaze, but he gripped my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. Satisfied, he nodded. “Good. You’re finally not looking at me with that disgusting look anymore. Sending you there was the right thing to do.”