Chapter 2

The driver dropped me home late. Ethan wasn’t back, and I didn’t bother asking.

The next day, his assistant brought a gift: two commercial property deeds.

He made a point to say one was for the cream-licking, the other for the egg mess.

Blank-faced, I labeled them 96 and 97 and tossed them into the safe.

The maid beside me beamed:

"Mr. Ethan really spoils you, ma’am. The gifts are coming more often."

I just smiled.

She didn’t know these were just Ethan’s payoffs for hurting me.

Looking at the safe stuffed with deeds, I knew I’d be leaving soon.

But before I left, I needed one camera. It had stuff I had to destroy.

Ethan had his kinks, and in the heat of the moment, he’d sometimes film us.

Back then, those videos were just us.

But now, I didn’t want them around. If they got out, I’d be ruined.

But after turning the place upside down, I couldn’t find that camera.

Just as I was about to search again, my agent called, yelling:

"Chloe, have you lost it? Check the news! Your private photos are everywhere! How dare you mess around behind Ethan’s back? If you want to die, don’t take the whole agency down with you!"

My mind went blank, only catching her words:

"You better explain those videos online right now! And explain it to Ethan, or we’re all screwed!"

She hung up. I fumbled for my phone.

The top trending topic was my private video.

With a bold, clickbait headline: [Supermodel Chloe’s Sleazy Rise to the Top]

In it, Ethan’s face was blurred, but mine was clear, flushed and wanting.

Millions of comments called me a slut, a gold-digger who slept her way up.

My legs gave out, and I hit the floor.

But right before I collapsed, strong arms caught me.

"Don’t look at that stuff. It’s okay, I’ll handle it. Trust me!"

The comforting words were barely out when he turned, his face like stone, and roared at the room.

"Who did this! Tell me! Who!"

Seeing him this furious, my eyes stung.

But at the same time, Amber’s casual voice floated over:

"Ethan, you mean the videos? I posted them!"

The arm around my waist tightened. Ethan and I both stared at Amber.

"Don’t look at me like that! I just found them and thought sis’s body was too hot for just you, Ethan. So I shared!"

"Beautiful things should be for everyone, right?"

Blood rushed to my head. I lunged to slap her, but Ethan caught my wrist.

"Chloe! Enough!"

Furious and heartbroken, I yelled: "But she—"

Before I could finish, Ethan glanced at a smug Amber, then turned back to me, frowning:

"I’ll get the topics taken down. Let it go. Don’t make trouble for Amber, okay? You know, she’s also…"

"No! Ethan, why should I let it go? She ruined me! Why should I let it go?"

"I’m suing her for defamation! She has to pay!"

I stared at Ethan, my eyes red, not backing down an inch.

"Chloe! You—"

Ethan took a deep breath, about to say more.

But Amber tugged his sleeve, fake-sobbing with red eyes:

"Ethan! Don’t. I know I messed up. Let sis sue me. I shouldn’t have been jealous, jealous she married you. It’s my fault. If only I’d held on back then!"

As she spoke, Amber’s eyes welled up, and she started crying for real.

"Sis, I’m really sorry. I’ll kneel and apologize. Please don’t make it hard for Ethan."

"If it makes you happy, I’ll turn myself in right now, clear your name! So what if I’m ruined too, just don’t let this break you two up."

Seeing Amber about to kneel, Ethan’s eyes went cold again. He said to me, low and hard:

"Chloe! Amber knows she was wrong. Drop it."

"Your rep’s already trash, so just quit the industry and be a rich housewife. Isn’t that good enough?"

I was stunned by his blindness, unable to believe he’d still indulge her like this.

I was about to speak, but the next second, a hard slap cracked across my face, stinging.

His knuckles were red, his breathing ragged, his eyes full of a violence I’d never seen.

He threw a disclaimer at me:

"Be a good girl and sign this. Once this blows over, I’ll get you back in the game."

"But if you dare go to the cops, don’t even think about leaving this house again!"

"I won’t sign!"

I ground my teeth, glaring.

But no matter how I fought, Ethan forced my handprint onto the paper.

As I collapsed, exhausted,

A helpless, crushing pain I’d never felt washed over me, like a thousand needles in my heart.

They left, but their casual talk wormed into my ears like poison:

"Ethan, is sis okay…"

"She’s fine. As long as she wants back in, she’ll listen. Worst case…"

"I’ll count it as a forgiveness voucher. She’s got plenty left, she’ll behave."

No, there aren’t plenty. Just one more.

Ethan, I won’t be your puppet anymore.

After sitting on the floor in a daze forever, I finally went to my room and took out my diary.

Everyone says the modeling world is just as dirty as showbiz, but I really loved it.

On the runway, under the spotlights—that confidence was where I found my worth.

But now, it was destroyed. Maybe heaven was telling me it was time to go, to not stick around.

Tears falling, I wrote today in the book, ending with the number 98.

Every time he hurt me, I’d write it down, to remind myself not to soften.

But Ethan’s voice came from behind:

"What’s 98 mean?"