Chapter 4

(Olivia's Journal)

He left. Just like that. Chloe called, and he was gone.

I wasn't surprised. Disappointed, yes. But not surprised. Chloe always came first.

I sank onto the bench in the hallway, the small suitcase beside me. Newport. The Hayes ancestral home. Our second task. Postponed indefinitely, it seemed.

I saw his post on social media later that day. A picture of him and Chloe, beaming. Her, looking perfectly healthy, a mischievous glint in her eyes. The caption: "Best cure for a little cold? Lots of TLC! 😉"

A little cold. Right.

I should have been furious. I was, for a moment. But then, a weary resignation settled in. This was Ethan. This was my life with him.

I booked a train ticket to Newport. Alone.

If he wouldn't complete the task with me, I would do it myself. For myself.

It was two days later when he finally showed up at the dilapidated Hayes mansion in Newport. I was in the overgrown gardens, sketching the crumbling facade, when his sleek black car crunched up the gravel driveway.

He stormed out, his face dark with anger.

"Olivia! What the hell do you think you're doing here alone? And why didn't you answer my calls?"

He kicked my small suitcase, which I'd left by the porch steps.

I didn't flinch. "You were busy," I said, my voice flat. "Chloe needed you."

"She had a terrible fever! And you just disappear?"

"Did she?" I met his gaze. "She looked remarkably well on Instagram."

His eyes narrowed. "Are you questioning me?"

"I'm stating a fact, Ethan. Now, why are you here? Did Chloe give you permission to leave her side?"

His jaw tightened. "I'm here because you're supposed to be fulfilling your ridiculous tasks. With me."

"And you abandoned me. Again."

"She was sick!" he insisted, his voice rising.

"So you said." I turned back to my sketchbook.

Suddenly, Chloe herself emerged from Ethan's car, all designer sunglasses and feigned concern.

"Olivia, darling! Ethan was so worried about you! When you didn't answer, we rushed right over." She glided towards me, her smile perfectly insincere.

Ethan's demeanor changed instantly. He was all solicitude for Chloe. "Careful, sweetheart, the ground is uneven."

I watched them, a bitter taste in my mouth.

"So, the patient has made a miraculous recovery?" I asked, my tone laced with sarcasm.

Chloe's smile didn't waver. "Oh, I'm still a bit weak, but I couldn't let Ethan worry himself sick about you all alone in this... charmingly rustic place." She gestured dismissively at the grand, decaying mansion.

Ethan put his arm around her. "Let's just get on with whatever nonsense Olivia has planned here, and then I can take you home to rest, Chloe." He looked at me. "Well? What is it?"

His dismissive tone, Chloe's smug presence... something snapped.

Chloe, sensing my anger, dropped her facade for a moment. She stepped closer, her voice a venomous whisper only I could hear.

"He'll always choose me, you know. You're just an obligation. A fading, pathetic one." She deliberately kicked my suitcase again, harder this time, sending it tumbling down the porch steps. My sketchbook, which I'd placed on top, scattered its pages in the wind.

That was it.

I slapped her. Hard. The sound cracked in the quiet air.

Chloe shrieked, clutching her cheek, her eyes wide with shock and fury.

Before I could even register what happened next, Ethan grabbed me. His fingers dug into my arms like vises. He shoved me, hard, against the stone balustrade of the porch. My head hit the stone. Stars exploded behind my eyes.

"Don't you ever," he snarled, his face inches from mine, radiating pure rage, "touch her again."

Chloe was instantly by his side, crocodile tears already welling. "Ethan, darling, it's okay. I provoked her. It's my fault."

He turned to her, all tenderness. "No, it's not your fault, sweetheart. She's unhinged." He glared back at me. "We're leaving. This whole charade is over."

He started to lead Chloe back to the car.

Pain throbbed in my head, in my arms. But a cold, desperate resolve cut through it.

"No," I said, my voice shaking but firm.

They stopped. Ethan looked back, impatient.

"What did you say?"

"We're not done, Ethan." I pushed myself off the balustrade. My legs felt weak. "You agreed to five tasks. This was the second. You haven't completed it."

He stared at me, his eyes filled with contempt. "You're delusional."

"Perhaps. But you want your divorce, don't you? You want Chloe without any ties to me?"

Chloe tugged at his arm. "Ethan, let's just go. She's clearly not well."

I ignored her. "The agreement stands, Ethan. Or there's no divorce. Not on the easy terms you want."

He looked from me to Chloe, then back to me. The desire for freedom, for Chloe, was a powerful motivator.

"What," he gritted out, "do you want me to do here?"

I gestured to the once-magnificent house, now a testament to neglect and broken promises. Cole Development owned it now. They planned to demolish it for luxury condos.

"Walk through it with me. See what you're destroying. See what you promised to help preserve, once upon a time."

He scoffed. But the fight seemed to drain out of him, replaced by a weary anger.

"Fine. Let's get this farce over with."