Chapter 2

Olivia sat on a cold plastic chair outside the operating room. Hours passed.

Ethan paced, his phone pressed to his ear, making arrangements. Chloe sat beside him, pale and tearful.

Finally, Chloe looked at Olivia.

"Olivia," she began, dabbing her eyes with a tissue. "I'm so sorry you had to be involved in this. It's just… Ethan is so good to me. To my mother."

Her voice was soft, laced with a subtle pride.

"He' s always been like this," Chloe continued, a reminiscent smile playing on her lips. "Remember that trip to Paris he took me on? Right after your first anniversary. He said he needed to get away, some business emergency. It was for me. He knew I was struggling."

Olivia' s blood ran cold. Ethan had told her it was a crucial Prescott International meeting. He' d forgotten their anniversary that year. He' d brought her a small, generic perfume from the airport duty-free a week later. Chloe had "accidentally" spilled it.

"And the time he bought that little art gallery I loved?" Chloe sighed. "He told you it was a bad investment he was forced into, didn't he? He bought it so I could have a place to show my friends' work. He' s so selfless."

Olivia remembered Ethan complaining about that "foolish" gallery, how he' d been cornered into buying it by an old family friend. She had felt sorry for him, for the burden.

Her hand, still bandaged, tightened into a fist. Each word from Chloe was a sharp stone, bruising old memories.

"He even wrote me letters," Chloe said, her eyes shining. "Every week, for years. Even after you two were married. He said… he said he was just waiting. Waiting for the right time for us."

Letters. Olivia thought of Ethan' s study, the locked drawer he always kept. She' d assumed it held sensitive business papers.

All those late nights he spent "working." All those "business trips."

Her last illusion shattered. There was nothing left.

Olivia stood up abruptly. Her face was pale.

"I have to go," she managed, her voice tight.

She almost ran down the corridor, away from Chloe' s soft voice, away from Ethan' s oblivious devotion. Fleeing.

Back at the house, she packed a single suitcase. Small, practical.

The divorce papers were on her dresser. She would sign them. Soon.

A few days later, Chloe posted on social media. A picture of Ethan, smiling, helping Chloe' s mother into a private car, taking her to a luxury rehabilitation facility. The caption read: "My hero, Ethan, making sure Mom gets the best care. Some angels walk among us. ❤️"

Olivia looked at the photo. Ethan' s smile was genuine, warm. A smile she had rarely seen directed at her.

She remembered all the times she had cared for him when he was sick, the meals she' d cooked, the quiet support she' d offered. He had accepted it all as his due.

Now, he was doing it all for Chloe' s mother.

Enough.

She would take care of herself now. She would move on.