Chapter 3

The university athletics gala was a mandatory event for someone like Ethan, a nationally ranked tennis star.

It was also, apparently, the perfect venue for Sophia Dubois to reassert her claim.

I knew Ethan would be there.

I also knew Sophia would be glued to his side.

I attended with a group of Hayes Construction's junior executives, a strategic move. Networking. Business.

My London plans were accelerating, and I needed to ensure a smooth transition for the New York office.

I wore a steel-grey gown, severe and elegant. No emotion. Pure business.

I saw them across the ballroom.

Ethan, looking uncomfortable in his tuxedo, and Sophia, draped on his arm in a red dress that screamed for attention. She was laughing, her hand possessively on his chest.

Ethan's eyes found mine.

A flicker of something – surprise? Guilt? – crossed his face before he quickly looked away.

Good.

I turned to my associates, engaging them in animated conversation.

I laughed, I networked, I accepted a glass of champagne from a charming architect from a rival firm.

I made sure to be seen.

Later, I deliberately circulated, making a point to connect with several influential alumni, including a tech billionaire who was notoriously single and devastatingly handsome.

We exchanged cards, and I saw him add me on LinkedIn right there.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ethan watching. His jaw was tight.

Sophia noticed his distraction. She followed his gaze, her eyes narrowing when she saw me talking to the billionaire.

A small, cold smile touched my lips.

Let them watch.

The night wore on. Speeches were made. Awards were given.

Then came the "fun" part – the after-party, where the athletes and their dates mingled.

Sophia, never one to miss an opportunity for drama, initiated a game of "Truth or Dare" among a circle of tennis players and their partners.

Ethan looked like he wanted to be anywhere else.

I was on the periphery, observing, a glass of water in my hand.

When it was Sophia's turn to dare Ethan, her voice dripped with saccharine sweetness.

"Ethan, darling," she cooed, loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. "Since we're, you know, giving things another go... I need to know you're serious this time. Really serious."

Ethan shifted uncomfortably. "Soph, this isn't the place-"

"Oh, but it is," she purred. "First demand, my love. A grand gesture."

She paused for dramatic effect.

"I want you to get a tattoo. Of me. My portrait. Right here." She tapped his powerful right playing arm, the one responsible for his formidable serve. "Large. Intricate. So everyone knows who you belong to."

A collective gasp went through the small crowd.

A tattoo like that? On his playing arm?

It could jeopardize his conservative endorsement deals. It was career suicide for a pretty boy athlete like him.

Ethan paled. "Sophia, that's... that's a bit much, don't you think?"

"Is my love too much for you, Ethan?" she asked, her eyes wide and innocent, but with an undercurrent of steel. "Or is it that you're not as devoted as you claim?"

He looked trapped. He glanced around, his eyes briefly meeting mine.

I held his gaze, my expression unreadable.

He looked back at Sophia, at her expectant, manipulative face.

The silence stretched.

Then, with a sigh that seemed to deflate him, he said, "Okay. Okay, Sophia. I'll do it."

A murmur went through the group. Disbelief. Pity.

Sophia beamed, a triumphant, predatory glint in her eyes. She kissed him full on the lips.

"Good boy," she whispered.

I turned away, a bitter taste in my mouth.

Not for Ethan. For myself.

For the three years I'd wasted on a man so easily broken, so pathetically eager to debase himself for a woman who clearly despised him as much as she controlled him.

The next day, Sophia posted a photo on her Instagram.

Ethan, shirtless, his right arm swollen and red, showcasing a massive, dark, and frankly, poorly rendered portrait of Sophia's smirking face.

The caption: "He's mine. Forever. ❤️ #Devotion #TrueLove"

I felt nothing.

Just a cold, clear understanding that I had dodged a lifetime of this.