Chapter 2

I left him standing there, bewildered, Chloe still chattering in his ear.

I didn' t look back.

The first few weeks were a blur of finding a temporary place, talking to lawyers, and trying to breathe without feeling that phantom tightness in my chest.

He called, of course. At first, angry. Then pleading. Then self-pitying.

He never once, in all those calls, truly acknowledged the depth of his betrayal at the inn.

It was always "a mistake," "bad judgment," "Chloe was just so convincing."

He didn't understand that he had shown me exactly who he prioritized.

One evening, weeks later, I had to go back to the apartment to get some important papers I' d forgotten. My lawyer said it was better if I went when Ethan was likely to be at work.

I let myself in with my old key, the silence of the place oppressive.

Then I heard them.

Giggles from the master bedroom. Chloe' s high-pitched laugh.

I froze.

My heart, which I thought had hardened into a stone, clenched.

I shouldn't have been surprised.

Slowly, I walked towards the partially open bedroom door.

There they were. Ethan and Chloe. On our bed.

Not just talking. They were kissing, a deep, lingering kiss. Chloe' s hands were in his hair.

A cold, clinical detachment settled over me.

This wasn't even about pain anymore. It was just… confirmation.

Chloe pulled back, laughing. "Oh, Ethan, you' re so bad. What if Ava walked in?"

She said it with a smirk, a glance towards the door as if she knew, or hoped, I was there.

"She' s not here," Ethan murmured, pulling her back. "She wouldn't dare come back without calling."

Oh, wouldn't I?

Chloe then spotted my side of the closet, still half-full of clothes I hadn't taken.

"Ugh, is she ever going to get the rest of her drab things out of here?" Chloe whined, pulling away from him and walking towards it.

She opened the closet door. "Can I use this space? My apartment is just bursting."

Ethan hesitated for a moment, a flicker of something – guilt? – crossing his face.

"I don't know, Chloe… it' s still her stuff."

That tiny hesitation, that was all the loyalty he had left for me. A moment' s pause before caving.

Chloe pouted, her lower lip trembling. It was a practiced look, one I was sure she' d used on him many times.

"But Ethan, you said she was being unreasonable. You said she left you. It' s not fair I have to live in a shoebox when there' s all this empty space. After all I' ve done for you, for your career… for your benefactor' s legacy…"

There it was. The manipulation. The false debt.

Ethan sighed, his resistance crumbling. "You' re right, Chloe. Of course, you' re right. I owe everything to your family' s generosity. If it weren't for that scholarship, I' d still be… nowhere."

His voice was filled with that familiar insecurity, the fear of his Rust Belt past.

I stepped back from the door, silent.

I walked into the living room, picked up the financial documents I' d come for from the antique secretary desk – a Thompson family heirloom I' d brought into the marriage.

Ethan and Chloe emerged from the bedroom a few minutes later, Chloe clinging to his arm, looking triumphant.

She saw me and her eyes widened in mock surprise.

"Oh! Ava! I… we didn' t hear you come in."

Ethan looked flustered. "Ava. What are you doing here?"

"I came for my papers," I said, my voice even. I held up the folder. "And it looks like you' re making good use of the space."

My gaze flickered to Chloe, then back to him.

He actually had the gall to look relieved.

"Oh. Right. Well, take whatever you need," he said, as if granting me a favor. He seemed to think my calm meant acceptance.

He was such a fool.

He put an arm around Chloe, pulling her closer, a possessive gesture. "Chloe was just helping me sort through some things. You know, since you… left everything in a mess."

I almost laughed.

Chloe snuggled into his side. "Don' t worry about us, Ava."

I felt a sudden wave of nausea, the physical manifestation of the disgust churning inside me.

It wasn't just emotional. My stomach roiled.

I needed to get out.

"I have what I need," I said, turning to leave.

I realized then, with a chilling certainty, that I was utterly alone in this. Relying on Ethan for anything, even basic human decency, was a fool's errand.

As I reached the door, I heard Ethan' s voice, softer now, directed at Chloe.

"I never should have married her, Chloe. It was always you. I just didn't see it."

The words hit me like a physical force, even though I was already walking away.

My hand was on the doorknob. I paused.

It wasn't heartbreak anymore. That had happened at the inn, in the hospital.

This was something colder, deeper. A void.

I felt numb, a strange, cold clarity spreading through me.

I walked out, not looking back.

The next morning, the nausea was worse.

I saw my doctor.

I was pregnant.

About six weeks. Conceived shortly before that disastrous weekend getaway.

Ethan' s baby.

The irony was a bitter pill.

I went to a small cafe near my temporary apartment, trying to process.

And then I saw them. Ethan and Chloe, at a table by the window.

Laughing. Holding hands.

Chloe was feeding Ethan a piece of heart-shaped pastry.

He looked up, saw me standing in the doorway.

A flicker of… something. Annoyance? Guilt? It was gone in an instant.

"Ava," he said, a superficial note of concern in his voice. "Are you okay? You look pale."

Chloe looked up, her eyes glittering with malice. She deliberately lifted her hand, intertwined with Ethan' s, and brought his fingers to her lips, kissing them slowly. A diamond ring, one I didn' t recognize, flashed on her finger. Not an engagement ring, but something significant.

"We were just celebrating," Chloe said, her voice sweet as poison. "Ethan got the Henderson account finalized. It' s a huge win." She squeezed his hand. "All thanks to his talent, of course."

Ethan beamed at her, then looked back at me. "Yeah, it' s great news."

He stood up, pulling Chloe with him. "Well, we should get going. Lots to do."

He walked right past me, Chloe on his arm, without another word.

As if I were a stranger.

As if the baby I was carrying, his baby, meant nothing.

Perhaps it didn't.

I sat down at a vacant table, my hands trembling.

He didn' t know about the baby. And I wouldn't tell him. Not now. Not ever.

This child would be mine. Mine alone.

A Thompson. Not a Carter.

That evening, I started making calls.

Not to Ethan.

To my sister, Olivia.

And to the best financial investigators money could hire.

It was time to find out exactly who Chloe Sanders was.

And it was time to make sure Ethan Carter understood the true cost of his choices.

He thought he was building a career. He was about to find out it was built on sand.

My sand.

A few days later, Ethan called. I' d unblocked him, curious.

"Ava, that symposium in Chicago is next month. The one where I' m getting that 'Rising Star' award."

I remembered. I' d been so proud when he was nominated.

"Chloe thinks it would look bad if you weren' t there," he continued. "You know, for appearances. People will talk if my wife doesn' t show up to support me."

My wife. The audacity.

"I' m busy, Ethan," I said.

"Busy with what? You' re not even working. Chloe' s working. She' s working hard. On my career. Our future."

The arrogance, the blindness. It was astounding.

I hung up.