Chapter 5

I'd imagined all kinds of reactions from Ethan, anger, shock, disappointment, even disgust.

But none of it mattered to me anymore.

The air around us was suffocatingly still. Quieter than death.

I could hear the soft drip of water falling from my soaked clothes, each drop hitting the ground like a metronome counting down to something awful. The people around us barely breathed, their silence deliberate, thick with shock.

I had always followed Ethan's lead.

And now I had just slapped him across the face.

And asked for a divorce.

Ethan stood frozen, a vivid red handprint blooming on his otherwise perfect face.

Then, without a word, he started walking toward me.

Panicked, I stepped back.

His expression twisted, far worse than when I slapped him.

"I already told you," I said, my voice sharp. "That slap was for the alimony. You're not planning to hit me back, are you? Ethan Sinclair, don't tell me you're that petty."

His jaw clenched. He didn't say a word, just grabbed my wrist, trying to drag me away.

I fought back, hard, but nobody around us moved. Not a single person stepped in. They just watched, as if we were the evening's entertainment.

"I'm not going with you!" I shouted. In desperation, I grabbed onto the nearest arm I could reach, solid, warm, unfamiliar.

The man turned, his eyes flicking between me and Ethan. He didn't pull away. Instead, a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Ethan," he said coolly, "she almost drowned. Maybe ease up a little?"

It was the man who'd pulled me out of the water earlier.

He was still dripping wet, his presence wild and effortlessly magnetic, everything Ethan wasn't. Ethan was cold, composed, calculating. This guy was heat and unpredictability.

For a split second, I stared, thrown off by the contrast.

Ethan noticed. His expression darkened like a storm rolling in.

"She's my wife, Zack," Ethan growled. "What gives you the right to interfere?"

Zack gave a lazy shrug. "Didn't she just say she wants a divorce?"

The tension spiked like a live wire. The air practically crackled.

Zack laughed, unbothered. "Look, I saved your wife's life. Maybe a 'thank you' wouldn't kill you."

Ethan's face twitched. After a moment, he said coldly, "I'll give you full authority over the West Side project."

And with that, he yanked me away.

Gasps exploded behind us.

"Did he say full authority?"

"The West Side project? That's worth billions! Even the James family only got crumbs from it!"

"Just for saving his wife? Isn't she the one he supposedly can't stand?"

Ethan didn't say a word as he dragged me to a hotel. He hated sleeping where others had before, so he always kept a penthouse suite ready, top floor, untouched, just the way he liked it.

He held my wrist the entire time, and the moment we got in, he shoved me into the bathtub.

Warm water rushed over me. I shivered.

"Ethan, can you leave?" I asked, exhausted.

He didn't respond at first, just stood there with that cold, blank look.

Finally, hoarsely, he said, "No."

I'd nearly finished soaking when he came over and lifted me out. I tried to walk, but he ignored me completely, carrying me like I was weightless.

He wrapped me in a towel, tucked me into bed, and then climbed in beside me.

Before I could protest, his arms locked around me like iron bars. His chin rested on my head.

I struggled, but he only held me tighter.

Then I heard it, his voice, low and ragged. "Aria... thank God you're okay."

I froze. Then my voice turned ice cold. "Drop the act, Ethan."

Zack saved me. Not him. He didn't get to play the hero.

Even though I had no memory of the last five years, no feelings for Ethan anymore, some buried part of me still twisted in pain at his voice.

Maybe that was the 25-year-old me. Her heart making one last attempt to feel something.

Honestly? I'm glad I lost my memory. If I hadn't, I might have actually died of heartbreak.

Ethan said nothing. His mouth opened, but no words came out.

I can't swim. He knew that.

He saved Olivia.

That was the truth.

If Zack hadn't been there, I wouldn't even be alive.

"…I was wrong," Ethan finally muttered. "I shouldn't have done that."

"It doesn't matter," I replied flatly. "Once we're divorced, you can save whoever you want. Has nothing to do with me."

His grip tightened. "You're angry, I get it. But it's not what it looks like, "

He hesitated, then said, "I'm not agreeing to the divorce."

I turned to him, incredulous. "You think you get a say?"

You chose Olivia. In front of everyone. You left me to drown.

You threw away my dignity.

"Ethan, I'm done. This divorce is happening, whether you like it or not."

He looked like he wanted to argue, but maybe he knew I had every reason to be furious.

Still, he pinned me down, his hands on my waist. "Get some sleep. We'll talk tomorrow."

"Let go!" I growled. "Ethan, don't make me use force."

He scoffed. "You? With what strength?"

I gritted my teeth and kicked, hard, straight toward his most vulnerable spot.

His expression twisted in pain. He grabbed my ankle, pressing it to his abdomen. "Even if you don't want it, you don't have to assault it."

Then, unbelievably, he softened. Kissed my forehead.

"Okay, okay. Stop fighting. I know I screwed up. I'll make it up to you."

My head throbbed. A sharp ache pulsed at my temples.

What kind of doormat had the 25-year-old me been? Even now, Ethan thought he could smooth things over with a few sweet words?

I lost it. I pounded his chest with my fists, over and over. My punches were weak, but it kept him from sleeping.

His expression darkened. He suddenly grabbed my wrists, pressing me into the mattress. "Can't sleep? Then let's do something else."

He lowered his head, about to kiss me,

But I went deathly pale, a cold sweat breaking across my skin.

"It hurts..." I gasped, shaking.

Ethan froze. "Did I hurt you?" he asked, panic flickering in his eyes.

For a second, I almost believed he cared.

But I knew better.

A man who let me almost drown didn't care about some bruises.

I bit my lip, refusing to speak.

He grew more anxious. "Where does it hurt? Tell me."

And then, we both smelled it, blood.

Ethan looked down at the wrist he was gripping. Bandaged. Bloody.

He'd never believed I'd actually do it. Never believed the cut was real.

His hands trembled as he unwrapped the gauze. The bandage was soaked through.

When he saw the deep, raw gash, his pupils shrank.

"Aria…"

I yanked my hand away. "Satisfied now?"

"You… really did it?" His voice cracked. "Who gave you the right to, how could you, !"

I met his gaze, unflinching. "You still care I tried to kill myself? You stood there and watched me drown."

That hit him. Hard.

His lips parted, but he had nothing to say.

"I'll call a doctor," he finally said, voice tight.

The doctor came. And so did Olivia.

She had changed, her long dark hair pulled back into a sweet little ponytail. She looked like some kind of innocent damsel.

She stood at the door, playing shy. "Ethan… is she okay?"

Ethan looked at her, annoyed. "Go rest. This has nothing to do with you."

"But I feel bad…" She bit her lip, looking pitiful. "You almost let Aria drown because of me..."

I cut in, my tone cold enough to freeze glass. "You really are a great actress."

Olivia's face stiffened.

"Too bad there aren't any security cameras by the pool," I said, narrowing my eyes. "If Ethan had heard what you said to me back there… I wonder what he'd think of you then?"