Chapter 4

The women around Chloe erupted in excited squeals.

"Oh, Ethan, don't wait! Propose now!" Tiffany urged, caught up in the drama.

"Yes, do it! It's so romantic!"

Ethan looked flustered. "I don't have a ring. Not here."

Chloe's eyes shone. "I don't need a ring, Ethan. I just need you."

Her voice was soft, full of adoration. The perfect picture of a devoted, selfless love.

I watched them, a familiar ache in my chest. Not for Ethan anymore. But for the years I'd wasted, believing this charade.

The pain was a dull throb now, a reminder of a past life.

Ethan, ever the man of action when it came to Chloe, recovered quickly.

"Alright," he announced, a charming smile plastered on his face. "It won't be the grand proposal I planned, but... Chloe, my love..."

He was actually going to do it. Propose to her, thinking he was still technically, if unwillingly, married to me.

He pulled out his phone, already barking orders at his assistant. "Get a ring. The best. Deliver it to the club. Now. And flowers. And champagne."

The room buzzed with anticipation.

Chloe turned to me, her eyes gleaming with triumph. A sly, knowing look.

"Ava, dear," she said, her voice saccharine sweet. "Would you mind filming this for us? For the memories."

A test. A power play.

The old Ava would have crumbled.

The new Ava smiled back, just as sweetly. "Of course, Chloe. It would be my honor."

I took out my phone.

My phone buzzed with a text from Ethan.

Don't you dare ruin this for her, Ava. I know you're jealous. One wrong move, and you'll regret it.

Jealous? Oh, Ethan. If only you knew.

I dismissed the message, my finger hovering over the record button.

This was going to be priceless.

He got down on one knee. The hastily procured ring, a massive diamond, glittered.

"Chloe Vance," he began, his voice thick with emotion (or a good imitation of it). "You are my world, my everything. Will you marry me?"

Tears streamed down Chloe's face. "Yes, Ethan! Yes, a thousand times yes!"

They kissed. The room applauded.

I filmed it all. Every loving glance, every tear, every cheer.

My finger never wavered.

When it was over, I walked towards them, phone still in hand.

"Congratulations," I said, my voice even. "That was beautiful."

I meant to turn and leave, my role fulfilled.

But as I stepped back, my heel caught on the edge of a loose Persian rug.

I stumbled.

Arms flailed.

Someone screamed.

Then, a sickening crack.

White-hot pain shot up my leg. Darkness encroached.

The last thing I saw before I blacked out was Ethan, his face a mask of concern.

But he wasn't looking at me.

He was rushing to Chloe, who had stumbled slightly when I fell near her.

"Chloe! Are you alright?" he cried, steadying her.

Then, his voice, colder, directed towards my crumpled form on the floor. "She pushed me, Ethan! Ava pushed me to get to you!" Chloe wailed.

Ethan didn't even look at me. He just shielded Chloe.

Pushed her. Right.

The irony was, in that moment, I finally understood. He hadn't just shielded Chloe. He'd actively shoved me aside to protect her when I fell. My broken ankle was his doing.