Chapter 3

Hot coffee flew through the air.

Ethan reacted instantly.

He lunged, not towards me, but towards Chloe, shielding her with his body.

"Chloe! Watch out!"

A splash of coffee hit her arm. She yelped, more in surprise than pain.

I, on the other hand, had been directly in the path of a full carafe. Scalding liquid drenched my forearm, searing my skin.

I cried out, a sharp, involuntary sound. The pain was intense, immediate.

Ethan was fussing over Chloe. "Are you okay, sweetie? Did it burn you? Let me see!" He dabbed at her arm with a napkin, his face a mask of concern.

He barely glanced my way.

Liam was by my side in an instant. "Ava! Your arm!"

His voice was tight with alarm. He gently took my arm, his eyes assessing the damage. The skin was already red, blistering.

"We need to get ice on this, now," Liam said, his voice firm, already signaling another waiter.

Ethan finally looked over, his attention torn from Chloe. "Oh, Ava. You got hit too? Is it bad?"

His concern felt like an afterthought, a perfunctory check.

Chloe, meanwhile, was already pulling out her phone. A few minutes later, while Liam was carefully applying a cold compress to my burn, my phone buzzed with an Instagram notification.

Chloe Davis posted a new photo: Ethan, dramatically shielding her, a tiny splash of coffee on her sleeve. Caption: "My hero @EthanCarter protecting me! #SoBlessed #TrueLove."

I stared at the screen, the throbbing in my arm a dull counterpoint to the sharp ache in my chest.

My hero.

I remembered a time, years ago, when Ethan and I were caught in a sudden downpour. He'd chivalrously held his jacket over my head, getting soaked himself, laughing as we ran for cover. He'd fussed over me then, toweling my hair, making me hot tea.

That devotion, I realized now, wasn't unique to me. It was a role he played, a script he knew. And Chloe was simply his preferred leading lady.

The burn was significant. Liam insisted on taking me to an urgent care clinic.

Ethan stayed behind with Chloe. "She's a bit shaken up," he'd said, as if a minor coffee splash was comparable to a second-degree burn.

Later that evening, back at Liam's brownstone, my arm bandaged, Ethan finally called.

"Ava, so sorry about your arm. I told the restaurant they need to be more careful. I've arranged for a top dermatologist to see you tomorrow, just to make sure there's no scarring."

His voice was smooth, concerned. Overcompensating.

"Chloe was really scared, you know? She's so fragile." He was justifying his actions, again. "If it happens again, some other crisis, I'll protect you first next time, okay? Now that she's seen I'll protect her."

As if he could schedule his heroism.

"Of course, Ethan," I said, my voice dripping with a sarcasm I knew he'd miss. "As Liam's girlfriend, I wouldn't expect you to prioritize me over your actual girlfriend, Chloe. That would be... inappropriate."

He chuckled, missing the bite in my words entirely. "Exactly! You get it. You're such a good sport, Ava."

A few days later, a delivery arrived. A pair of Manolo Blahniks I'd admired months ago. The card read: "A little something to make you feel better. Love, E."

He was trying to buy my forgiveness, my complicity. He still thought my anger, my pain, was something that could be smoothed over with expensive shoes.

I looked at the shoes, then at my bandaged arm.

I called him.

"Ethan, the shoes are lovely. But I can't accept them."

"What? Why not? They're your size, aren't they?"

"It's not about the size, Ethan. I'm Liam's girlfriend, remember? It wouldn't be appropriate for me to accept such an extravagant gift from my fiancé's brother."

There was a pause. "Oh. Right. The charade." He sounded annoyed. "Well, just keep them. For later. When this is all over."

I hung up and asked Liam's housekeeper to return the shoes.

Ethan continued to spend most of his time with Chloe. He was reliving his youth, and she was his willing, oblivious partner. He organized a lavish "welcome back" party for her, ostensibly to reintroduce her to society after her "ordeal." He insisted on framing it as a pre-wedding celebration for "Liam and Ava," to make it seem normal for Chloe.

"It'll be good for Chloe to see us all as one big happy family," he'd said, his arrogance astounding.

The party was at a trendy rented event space in SoHo. Chloe was radiant, Ethan by her side, playing the devoted host and boyfriend.

Chloe, in a new designer dress Ethan had bought her, was holding court, telling stories about her and Ethan's "unbreakable bond."

"He's just the most wonderful man," she gushed to a group of socialites, her hand possessively on Ethan's arm. "He remembered all my favorite things, even after all this time apart. My favorite flowers, my favorite champagne..." She listed off a dozen expensive items.

"He even bought me this amazing diamond tennis bracelet last week, just because!" She flashed the glittering piece on her wrist.

The onlookers ooohed and aahed.

One woman, a notorious gossip columnist, smirked in my direction. "Well, Ethan always did know how to treat his real loves. Some girls get diamonds, others... well." Her eyes flicked to my still-bandaged arm.