Chapter 2

Even though I knew Ethan and I had been married for five years, this was still the first time I'd seen him up close, from my perspective, anyway.

And honestly? I could see why I'd fallen for him back in college. That face alone was enough to lift my mood, even if his expression was cold as ice.

He didn't say anything at first. Just frowned slightly when I stayed silent.

"Aria, what are you playing at now?"

He brushed right past me into the walk-in closet like I wasn't even there, pulled out a robe, then came back out.

I turned to face him. "Playing at?"

From the moment he walked through the door, I hadn't said a single word. How exactly was I playing at anything?

Ethan gave me a long, unreadable look. "You usually throw yourself at me the second I walk in. Switching strategies now?"

I blinked, stunned.

Was that the kind of wife I'd been?

I kept my expression even and said flatly, "That won't be happening again."

I thought he'd be relieved. But instead, his frown deepened, and his tone grew sharp, like he was already running low on patience.

"I've been buried in work. I don't have the energy for your theatrics right now."

I didn't respond. The room fell silent again, heavy with tension.

Then his eyes turned icy. "Whatever it is you're planning, leave Olivia out of it. She hasn't done anything to you. Threatening suicide again won't get you what you want."

His words caught me off guard, a tangled mix of emotion rising in my chest.

Zack had already given me the basic rundown.

I was in love with Ethan. Ethan was in love with Olivia. And I was the inconvenient wife in the way, clinging, scheming, making a fool of myself in front of everyone.

Apparently, this latest meltdown was because I got jealous. I'd gone after Olivia's company, tried to ruin their artists, hoping Ethan would finally look at me.

But of course, he didn't. He'd defended her, publicly, no less.

That was all it took to make my position crystal clear to the whole social circle: Mrs. Sinclair existed only on paper. Even Olivia's shadow outranked me.

So, in a final, pathetic attempt to hold onto him, I'd tried to take my own life.

I wanted to laugh. It sounded so dramatic… so unlike me.

I didn't say a word, just watched Ethan walk into the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind him.

Only when he was gone did I let myself exhale, collapsing onto the massive bed beneath me. My head was spinning.

I didn't remember any of this. Not the marriage, not the heartbreak. None of the desperation everyone claimed I'd had.

At eighteen, I'd sworn I'd never become the kind of woman who lost herself over a man. But apparently, I'd become exactly that, so far gone I was willing to die for someone who couldn't even be bothered to show up at the hospital.

God. What a joke.

I was still trying to make sense of everything when the blanket beside me shifted.

A warm weight dipped the mattress.

Startled, I turned my head, only to find Ethan sliding in next to me.

What the hell?

Those pitch-black eyes locked on mine. Cold, distant… but there was something else there too. Something darker. Heated. Intense.

My breath hitched. "W-What are you doing?"

From what I'd gathered, our marriage was hanging by a thread. We weren't even sharing a bed, so why was he lying down next to me like this was normal?

Ethan didn't answer. He just wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me close, his grip firm, possessive. Then, without a word, he rolled on top of me, his rough fingers skimming over my skin like he knew exactly what he was doing.

A jolt of unfamiliar heat shot through me.

I panicked.

"Ethan!" I gasped, pushing at his chest. "Don't touch me!"