Chapter 3 3

His words wounded me more than their cheap insults or the broken phone.

"Stoop to her level?" I repeated, my voice dangerously quiet. "She broke into my home, Ethan. She assaulted Maria. She assaulted me."

He sighed, a dismissive sound. "I'll pay for the damages. Just... let it go, Olivia. It's not worth the fuss." He turned to Chloe, his voice softening. "Come on, I'll take you home."

He put his arm around Chloe's shoulders, guiding her towards his car. Chloe shot me a look of pure triumph over his shoulder.

I watched them drive away. It was the first time I'd seen Ethan show that kind of gentle concern for anyone. It just wasn't for me. The bitterness was a familiar taste.

I went to Lenox Hill Hospital for an examination of my bruises and scratches. Then, I went to the 19th Precinct and filed a formal complaint. Trespassing, assault, vandalism.

The news spread through the Upper East Side like wildfire. Olivia Vanderbilt, suing a college student. The whispers were immediate: I was vindictive, jealous, unable to hold onto my husband.

I ignored the gossip. I waited for Ethan's reaction.

He didn't mention it. He didn't ask about my injuries. He acted as if nothing had happened, his indifference a heavier blow than any public condemnation.

Maria, bless her loyal heart, tried to comfort me. "Mrs. Vanderbilt, sometimes... sometimes women must be patient. Men, they are foolish."

Patience. I was tired of patience. Was this the life my mother had endured? Was this what I was supposed to accept?

Ethan finally came to my study a few days later. Not to apologize, but to deal with the "Chloe problem."

He placed a folder on my desk. "This is the digital media partnership agreement between Vanderbilt Industrial and Prescott Media. The one you've been fighting for."

I looked at him. "And?"

"Drop the charges against Chloe, and it's yours. Your father will be pleased. It'll solidify your position against your half-brother, won't it?"

He knew my ambitions at Prescott Media, knew the quiet war I was waging for my rightful place. He was using it. For her.

The pain was a dull ache in my chest. "You'd do all this... for her?"

He looked genuinely perplexed. "Olivia, it's a good deal for you. For your company. Why are you being so emotional? It's just a girl."

"A girl you brought into our lives, Ethan! A girl you protect over your own wife!"

He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture of exasperation I knew well. "It's common, Olivia. Men have... diversions. You're a smart woman. You could find your own, if you wanted. I wouldn't even care."

I stared at him, speechless. He wouldn't even care?

"You... you really wouldn't care?" I whispered, the question hanging in the air.

He met my gaze, his own unyielding. "No. Why should I?" He turned and walked out, leaving the contract on my desk.

I sank into my chair. He wouldn't care. That was his answer. The last thread of hope I'd unknowingly clung to snapped. The marriage was truly dead.

Later that night, my phone buzzed. A message from an unknown number.

Thinking of you. Still owe you a proper thank you. - N

Noah.

Ethan's words echoed in my mind. I wouldn't even care.

A reckless, defiant spark ignited within me. Why should I care either?

I typed back: My place. One hour.