Chapter 2

Elena's POV

When I got back to the villa, I pushed open the heavy front door.

A single floor lamp cast a dim, amber glow across the living room. Ethan stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows with his back to me, phone pressed to his ear. The man who was notoriously ruthless and cutthroat in the corporate world radiated a tender warmth right now that I had never once seen from him.

"Nicole, honey, what time is your flight getting in?"

His voice was deep, soft, and thick with an anticipation he didn't even bother trying to hide.

I stood frozen in the shadows by the entryway, completely unable to react.

I knew all about the woman he called Nicole.

Three years ago, Nicole had insisted on moving abroad to chase her dream of becoming an artist. Ethan had abandoned a multibillion-dollar corporate summit just to stand in the airport terminal for an entire day and night, waiting for her to change her mind.

It had rained relentlessly that day. Ethan hadn't carried an umbrella. He had walked back to his car like a hollow shell, then locked himself in his penthouse, drowning in booze day after day.

He drank until his stomach ruptured, vomiting blood and bile all over the floor. And I was the one who stayed by his side. I was the one who knelt on the floor cleaning up his mess, the one who brewed honey water for him and stayed awake through the night watching his IV drip. Whenever his explosive rage took over and he smashed every reflective surface in the apartment, I quietly swept up every broken shard, letting the glass slice my own hands to ribbons.

Then, late one stormy night, so wasted he could barely keep his balance, he pulled me into his arms for the very first time.

There were no words of love. No promises. Not even the slightest hint of romance.

He just took from me, wildly and desperately, like a freezing man clinging to a fire just to survive the winter.

That night, I was foolish enough to believe I had finally found a way into his heart.

Over the next three years, he gave me a black card with no limit, bought this multimillion-dollar luxury villa in the heart of the city, and showered me with every material possession imaginable—everything except a legitimate title. I naively believed that the secret marriage certificate was his way of protecting me from the cutthroat world outside. I told myself that if I was just obedient enough, gentle enough, and devoted enough, he would eventually take my hand and walk me into the light. Only now did I realize that nothing he gave me was love. It was charity. I was just a stand-in while Nicole was away, a piece of trash he could toss in the bin the second she returned.

"All right, I’ll pick you up myself," Ethan said, hanging up the phone. He turned around, his eyes locking onto mine as I stood by the door.

A faint smile still lingered at the corners of his lips, but the moment he realized it was me, the warmth vanished, replaced by his usual cold indifference.

"Where have you been?" He tossed his phone onto the couch and loosened his tie.

I looked at him, staring at the face I had loved with every fiber of my being for four whole years. It felt like something was caught in my throat, choking me, impossible to swallow down and impossible to cough up.

"Just... out for a walk," I heard myself say, my voice unnervingly calm.

"Don't touch the things in my study," Ethan said as he walked toward me. His gaze dropped to my bare wrist, and his brow twitched. "Why aren't you wearing the bracelet I bought you at the auction?"

"I don't like it," I murmured, casting my eyes downward.

Ethan didn't notice anything off about me. Or rather, he simply didn't care enough to notice. He glanced at his luxury watch and handed down his orders with typical clinical detachment. "We have an early executive meeting tomorrow. Get to the office early to prep. Also, clear out the director's office next to mine and have it redecorated. Go with a vintage French aesthetic."

I lifted my head and looked straight into his eyes. "Who is it for?"

Ethan looked back at me, his gaze unapologetic and downright cruel. "Nicole is coming home tomorrow. She’s joining the firm as our new Director of Special Projects."

The very last shred of hope inside me was ripped to shreds. Nicole was back, and I—the placeholder who had kept her seat warm for three years—was expected to roll out the red carpet for her myself.

"Understood, Mr. Sterling," I replied softly, dipping my head with the practiced perfection of an executive assistant.

Ethan seemed satisfied with my obedience. He reached out, casually attempting to stroke my hair, but I subtly tilted my head and stepped out of his reach. His hand froze in midair, a flicker of annoyance passing through his eyes before he let his arm drop.

"I won't be home tonight. I have a dinner meeting," he said coldly. Grabbing his coat, he walked out of the villa without a backward glance.

The second the heavy front door clicked shut, my knees buckled, and I collapsed onto the freezing marble floor. I didn't cry. I just bit down on the back of my hand, biting down hard until I tasted the metallic tang of fresh blood.

These past three years had been nothing more than an absurd, sick joke. And now, the joke was over.