Chapter 4

Chloe POV

I dragged myself through the long, agonizing night on the cold floor.

It wasn't until daylight broke that the worst of the bone-crushing pain in my knees finally subsided.

Drenched in sweat and exhausted, I pulled myself onto the sofa and swallowed two strong painkillers.

Just then, my phone vibrated.

Ethan's name flashed on the screen.

I answered. There was no question about how I was doing after last night.

"Did you see the news? Come to the office immediately." His voice was laced with obvious frustration.

I leaned back against the sofa, my voice weak from the night of agony. "What happened?"

"Someone snapped photos of me picking Amber up on the highway last night. Now the internet is saying she's my mistress," Ethan said coldly. "This is going to ruin her show next week. You need to clear this up."

My grip on the phone tightened. The wound on my thumb from yesterday's pin prick was red and swollen, throbbing painfully. "How do you want me to clear it up?"

"The driver is outside your door. Just come to the office. PR has the statement ready for you."

Before I could answer, he hung up.

Half an hour later, I arrived at the Smith Group headquarters.

Dragging my legs, which were still numb with pain, I walked into the VIP lounge of the executive suite. The room was already packed with cameras and reporters.

Ethan was standing in the corner.

My eyes followed his gaze.

Amber was sitting on the sofa, looking as cold and aloof as ever.

She was flipping through some runway materials, seemingly annoyed by the drama surrounding her.

Ethan stood beside her, whispering something to her with absolute tenderness.

When the PR director announced that the live stream was about to start, Ethan stood up and walked over to sit next to me on the love seat.

He glanced at my pale face and whispered in a voice only I could hear, "Amber's reputation can't be ruined. This show is crucial for her."

The live stream started.

The flashbulbs were blinding, and the reporters' questions were sharp:

"Mrs. Smith, reporters photographed Mr. Smith and Amber acting intimately last night. Is it true that Amber has come between your marriage?"

Before I could speak, Ethan reached over and squeezed my hand tightly as it rested on my knee.

He squeezed with immense force.

His palm pressed directly onto my swollen, injured thumb.

The wound that had barely clotted split open instantly. Sticky blood rushed out.

A sharp, agonizing pain shot up my arm straight to my brain. I shivered violently from the pain.

But Ethan didn't notice a thing.

He looked directly at the cameras, smiling warmly.

"Those rumors are completely false."

His voice was firm and confident. "My wife, Chloe, is an incredibly talented independent designer, and Miss Rose is a key model we are collaborating with."

Ethan turned his head slightly, looking at me with deep affection.

But beneath his amber eyes lay a cold, demanding threat.

"Isn't that right, Chloe?"

The throbbing pain in my hand intensified as blood seeped into the cracks of Ethan's fingers.

Looking at the man in front of me, a wave of nausea washed over me.

Suppressing both the pain in my hand and my knees, I forced a perfect, elegant smile.

"Yes," my voice was calm and steady. "Both my husband and I highly appreciate Miss Rose's talent. The rumors of her being a mistress are completely baseless."

With that single statement, the PR crisis was instantly resolved.

The moment the live stream ended and the cameras turned away, Ethan let go of my hand immediately.

Without glancing at my bloody fingers, he stood up and walked straight toward Amber in the corner.

"It's done," he said softly, his voice full of warmth. "Everything is cleared up. Come on, let me take you out to eat."

Amber closed her folder and stood up, her face still cold. "No thanks, Mr. Smith. I have a photoshoot later."

She walked right past him and headed out the door.

Despite being ignored in public, Ethan wasn't angry. Instead, a helpless, indulgent smile crossed his face.

He didn't even look back at me as he quickly followed her out.

In the massive lounge, I was left entirely alone.

I sat on the sofa.

Looking at my bleeding thumb, I suddenly felt a strange sense of relief.

I pulled a tissue from my pocket and slowly wiped the blood from my hand until it was completely clean.

Then, I unlocked my phone and opened the chat with Arthur's lawyer:

"What time is my flight?"

The lawyer replied instantly:

"Monday morning, 9:00 AM. Private hangar."

I locked my screen and stood up slowly.

What a coincidence. That was the exact same day Ethan was taking Amber to Milan for her big red-carpet debut.