Chapter 6

A week later, two days before my scheduled flight to London, Ethan called.

His voice was hoarse.

"Olivia. Hey."

"Ethan." I kept my tone neutral.

"Listen, I... I wanted to apologize. For everything. For being a jerk. For... well, for a lot."

It was a weak apology, perfunctory.

"Okay," I said.

Silence. He was probably expecting more. Absolution, maybe.

"Sophia's birthday is tomorrow night," he said, his voice changing, becoming a little more animated. "Her parents are throwing a big party at their club. You should come."

I blinked. Was he serious?

After everything? The public humiliation, the self-destruction, the chemical attack that had clearly been orchestrated by or for Sophia?

"Why would I do that, Ethan?"

"I don't know. Closure? To show there are no hard feelings?" He sounded unsure of his own reasons. "It would mean a lot to me. And to Sophia. She... she feels bad about how things went down."

Sophia felt bad? That was a laugh. Sophia felt nothing unless it served her.

But a grim curiosity stirred in me. A desire to see the final act of this train wreck.

To witness, once and for all, the full extent of his delusion and her manipulation.

"Alright, Ethan," I said slowly. "I'll be there."

He sounded surprised, then pleased. "Great! That's great, Liv. See you tomorrow."

The Dubois family's country club was ostentatious, dripping with new money trying too hard.

Sophia was holding court, wearing a diamond tiara that was probably fake but looked expensive enough.

Ethan was by her side, attentive, his arm in a discreet sling under his jacket. The burns were still healing.

He'd bought her a diamond tennis bracelet. I saw him fasten it onto her wrist, his expression soft, devoted.

She kissed him, a possessive, triumphant gesture.

I nursed a glass of sparkling water, observing from a distance.

Sophia spotted me. Her eyes, like a shark's, locked onto mine.

She whispered something to Ethan, then made her way towards me, a predatory smile on her face.

"Olivia! So glad you could make it." Her voice was syrupy sweet.

"Sophia."

"Enjoying the party? Ethan was so pleased you decided to come. He still cares a great deal for you, you know. In his own way."

She was taunting me. Trying to get a reaction.

I gave her a cool smile. "It's quite the... spectacle."

Her smile tightened. "He bought me this," she said, thrusting her wrist forward, the diamonds glittering. "Isn't it beautiful? A symbol of his undying love."

"It's a bracelet, Sophia."

She laughed, a brittle sound. "Oh, Olivia. Always so literal. You just don't understand passion, do you?"

"I understand value," I said, my gaze sweeping over her. "And I understand when something is overpriced and ultimately worthless."

Her eyes flashed. Score one for me.

Later, as the party was winding down, Sophia let out a theatrical shriek.

"My bracelet! My diamond bracelet! It's gone!"

She clutched her bare wrist, tears welling in her eyes. Real ones, this time? Or just well-practiced?

Ethan rushed to her side. "What? Are you sure?"

"Yes! It was just here! Someone must have stolen it!" Her eyes darted around the room, then landed, with deliberate, venomous precision, on me.

"She was admiring it earlier," Sophia sobbed, pointing a trembling finger. "Olivia! She was jealous! She took it!"

The accusation hung in the air.

Murmurs rippled through the remaining guests.

I stood, stunned by the audacity.

Ethan looked from Sophia's tear-streaked face to mine. Conflict warred in his eyes.

"Sophia, calm down. Olivia wouldn't-"

"Wouldn't she?" Sophia wailed. "She's bitter! She wants to ruin my happiness! This is her third demand, Ethan! For our reconciliation! You said you'd do anything! Prove it! Have her searched!"

My blood turned to ice.

"Sophia, that's outrageous," I said, my voice dangerously low.

Ethan looked horrified. "Soph, I can't ask her to do that. That's... humiliating."

"More humiliating than you throwing the championship for me?" she hissed, her voice dropping so only he could hear, but her eyes still blazing at me. "More humiliating than that disgusting tattoo of my face on your arm? If you love me, Ethan, you'll do this. Prove she's a thief!"

He was trapped. Cornered by his own pathetic promises and her relentless cruelty.

He looked at me, his face a mask of anguish and shame.

"Olivia... I... I'm so sorry."

He nodded to the club's security guards, two burly men in ill-fitting suits.

"Please... just cooperate," he mumbled, not meeting my eyes.

The guards approached me.

"Ma'am, we need to search your purse. And... we'll need to pat you down."

Rage, cold and pure, surged through me. But I kept my expression impassive.

I handed over my clutch. They emptied it onto a nearby table. Lipstick, phone, keys, my London plane ticket. No bracelet.

"We need to be thorough, ma'am," one guard said, his voice apologetic but firm.

He reached for me.

I stood ramrod straight as his hands moved over my body. Over my silk dress.

Then, a tearing sound.

The delicate fabric of my designer dress ripped at the shoulder seam as one of them handled me too roughly.

My belongings were scattered. My dignity, shredded.

In front of everyone.

Sophia watched, a sickeningly triumphant smirk on her face.

Ethan finally seemed to snap out of his stupor. The sight of my torn dress, my stoic humiliation, it was too much even for him.

"Stop!" he choked out, his voice hoarse. "That's enough! Leave her alone!"

He rushed forward, pushing the guards away.

"Olivia, I... God, I'm so sorry."

I looked at him, my eyes like chips of ice.

The hurt was a deep, physical ache. But something else was breaking free.

The last, lingering thread of any emotion I might have felt for him – pity, regret, even contempt – snapped.

There was nothing left. Just a vast, cold emptiness where my heart used to be.

I pulled the torn edges of my dress together.

"Don't ever speak to me again, Ethan," I said, my voice flat, devoid of all feeling.

I turned and walked out of that gaudy club, leaving him standing amidst the wreckage of his own making.

This time, it was truly over.