Chapter 3
The morning sun beat down on the Garment District as I stepped out of the studio building, my portfolio clutched to my chest. One week into my new job, and I was finally starting to feel like myself again—at least professionally. Emma had thrown me into the deep end with three deadline projects, but the work kept my mind off everything else.
That's when I saw him.
Ethan stood across the street, a bouquet of white lilies in hand—my favorites. How many times had I mentioned that to him? How many times had he "forgotten" and brought roses instead? Yet now, when it served his purpose, he remembered.
I froze, considering ducking back inside, but he'd already spotted me. His face transformed into that expression I knew too well—wounded puppy eyes, slightly trembling lower lip. The look that had made me forgive so many "misunderstandings" before.
"Olivia," he called, jogging across the street against the light, causing a taxi to screech to a halt. The driver shouted obscenities, but Ethan didn't even glance his way. "Please, just five minutes."
"I have nothing to say to you." My voice sounded steadier than I felt.
"It was a misunderstanding." He thrust the lilies toward me. "What you saw—it wasn't what you think."
A bitter laugh escaped me. "I think I saw you in bed with my best friend. What part did I misunderstand?"
"It was a test," he said, his voice dropping to that intimate tone he used when he wanted me to believe something impossible. "I needed to know if you'd fight for us."
The words hit me like a slap. "A test?"
"I never meant to hurt you." His eyes filled with tears that looked so genuine I almost wavered. "Vanessa means nothing to me. She was just... available. I wanted to see if you loved me enough to forgive me, to fight for what we have."
"Had," I corrected, stepping back. "What we had."
"Look at what you've done," he continued as if I hadn't spoken, gesturing wildly. "Married a complete stranger? The Olivia I know would never do something so reckless. You're not thinking clearly."
"The Olivia you knew doesn't exist anymore." I clutched my portfolio tighter, like a shield. "She died the moment she saw you with Vanessa."
"Baby, please." He reached for my arm. "I made one mistake—"
"It wasn't a mistake." I jerked away from his touch. "It was a choice. You chose to test me. You chose to hurt me. You chose to betray me with the one person who was supposed to be on my side."
Ethan's expression hardened for a split second before the mask of contrition slipped back into place. "You're upset. I understand. But this marriage... it's not real, is it? Everyone's talking about how sudden it was. Did he pay you? Is that what this is?"
Before I could respond, a sleek black sedan pulled up to the curb. The back door opened, and Alexander stepped out, his tall frame unfolding with fluid grace. He wore a charcoal suit that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe, his presence immediately commanding attention from everyone on the sidewalk.
"Olivia." His voice was calm but carried an undercurrent of steel as he moved to stand beside me. "Is everything alright?"
"Alexander," I breathed, relief washing over me. "This is Ethan. My ex."
Something flickered in Alexander's eyes—recognition, perhaps a hint of anger—but his face remained impassive. He positioned himself slightly in front of me, creating a barrier between Ethan and me.
"Mr. Reed," Alexander said, his tone measured. "I believe my wife has made it clear she doesn't wish to speak with you."
Ethan's jaw tightened. "This is between Olivia and me. We have five years of history that can't just be erased by some hasty marriage."
"Stay away from my wife," Alexander replied, each word precise and cold as ice. "This is not a request."
I noticed several people had stopped to watch the confrontation, some discreetly holding up phones. Tomorrow's gossip columns would have a field day.
Ethan's eyes narrowed. "You don't know her like I do. You don't know what she needs."
"I know she doesn't need this." Alexander took my hand, his touch surprisingly gentle despite the tension radiating from him. "Our car is waiting, Olivia."
As Alexander guided me toward the sedan, I heard the unmistakable click of camera shutters. I glanced back to see Ethan standing alone, the lilies hanging limply at his side, his expression no longer one of contrition but of cold calculation.
Once inside the car, my phone buzzed with a notification. With trembling fingers, I opened it to find Vanessa had tagged me in a post—a carefully edited video of me from that night at The Velvet Lounge, making me appear far more intoxicated than I'd been, with a caption that read: "When your 'bestie' has a meltdown and marries a billionaire for revenge. #GoldDigger #ReboundMarriage."
The comments were already flooding in, each one a tiny dagger.
I looked up to find Alexander watching me, his expression unreadable. "It's starting," I whispered.
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