Chapter 2

Ethan came home late that night, smelling faintly of Olivia' s perfume.

He walked into our bedroom and tried to hug me from behind as I sat at my vanity. "I missed you," he murmured, pressing a kiss to my shoulder.

I didn't move. I just stared at our reflection in the mirror. My face was a mask of calm, but inside, I was screaming.

I saw it then. A small, dark red mark on the side of his neck, just above his collar. A hickey.

The sight of it was like a physical blow. The air left my lungs. He hadn't even bothered to hide it. Or maybe he just didn't think I would notice. Or care.

"I'm tired, Ethan," I said, my voice flat. I stood up and moved away from him, towards the bed. "I'm going to sleep."

He looked surprised by my coolness, a brief flicker of confusion in his eyes. But it passed quickly. He was too full of himself, too sure of my love, to suspect anything was truly wrong.

"Alright," he said with a smile. "You must be tired from trying on dresses all day. I'll have the staff make your favorite seafood porridge for breakfast tomorrow."

I didn't reply. I just got into bed and turned my back to him.

Seafood porridge. I was allergic to shellfish. He knew that. We had been together for three years, and he knew that. Or he should have.

The next morning, a bowl of steaming seafood porridge was placed in front of me at the breakfast table. The smell alone made my stomach clench.

Ethan sat across from me, reading the financial news on his tablet. He didn't even look up.

"The new chef doesn't know my allergies," I said calmly.

Ethan finally lowered his tablet, his brow furrowing in irritation. He snapped at the maid standing nearby. "What's wrong with you? Don't you know Mrs. Hayes is allergic to shellfish? Are you trying to get fired?"

The young maid turned pale and bowed her head. "I'm so sorry, sir. Miss Olivia was the one who ordered the menu for today. She said…"

Just then, Olivia herself walked into the dining room. She was dressed in a simple white dress, looking pure and innocent. Her eyes were red-rimmed, as if she had been crying.

"Ethan, Stella, I'm so sorry," she said, her voice trembling. "I just wanted to do something nice. I remembered Stella saying she loved seafood once, so I asked the chef to make it. I completely forgot about her allergy. It's all my fault."

Ethan's harsh expression immediately softened. He stood up and went to her side, putting a comforting arm around her shoulders.

"It's not your fault, Olivia. You were just trying to be thoughtful," he said gently. He then turned to me, his tone changing back to one of mild annoyance. "Stella, Olivia didn't mean any harm. Don't make a big deal out of it. Just eat something else."

I looked at them. The perfect picture of a loving, protective man and a fragile, misunderstood woman. The anger and pain inside me were so intense, they felt like a physical weight in my chest.

But I smiled. A small, polite smile.

"Of course," I said. "It was a simple mistake."

I felt a wave of nausea. "I think I'll just go upstairs. I'm not feeling very hungry."

I stood to leave, but Ethan grabbed my wrist. His grip was tight.

"Wait, Stella. There's something else." His eyes darted towards Olivia, who was looking down at her feet, the picture of misery. "Olivia is feeling very lonely in the main house. I was thinking she could move in with us for a while. It would be good for her to have some company."

My blood ran cold. He wanted her to live here? In our house?

"No," I said, the word escaping before I could stop it.

Ethan's face hardened. "Stella, her husband just died. My brother is gone. She's our family. We have a duty to take care of her." He was using his dead brother, using my sense of decency, to manipulate me.

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low, pleading whisper. "You know, when my company was on the verge of bankruptcy two years ago, it was Olivia who convinced her father to invest. She saved us, Stella. We owe her. I owe her."

I stared at him, a bitter laugh building in my throat. He was right. Olivia's family had bailed him out. He owed her a debt. A debt he was clearly repaying in her bed.

And what about me? I had stood by him, sold my own jewelry, used my own savings to help him. Did he owe me nothing?

The fight went out of me. What was the point? This was the man I had loved. This was the man who was planning to fake his own death to be with another woman.

A chilling thought took root in my mind. If I was going to pay him back for a lifetime of grief, then I should first repay the debts of this life. The money his company owed Olivia's family.

I would pay it back. With interest.

I looked at him, my eyes empty. "Fine," I said, the word tasting like ash in my mouth. "She can move in."

I would let her move in. I would let them play out their sordid little affair right under my nose. And I would use every moment to gather the proof I needed to destroy them both.

"I'll pay back the money Olivia's father invested," I said, my voice devoid of emotion. "And once that's done, our debt is cleared."

Ethan looked at me, a strange expression on his face. He probably thought I was just being petty about the money. He had no idea what I was really planning.

He had no idea that I was going to make him pay for everything. Not just with money, but with his whole life.