Chapter 2

Ethan had been drinking. I drove us home.

He sat in the back, a rare occurrence. Usually, he drove, or we had a driver.

His normally perfect hair was disheveled. His shirt was torn at the shoulder. His knuckles were bruised.

He, Ethan Cole, who valued control above all else, had lost it. For Chloe Davis.

His phone rang.

He answered, his voice instantly softer, a tone he never used with me.

"Hey. No, I'm fine. Don't worry."

A pause.

"It's late. You should sleep."

Another pause.

"Okay. You don't have to wait up for me."

Simple words, but the tenderness in his voice was a physical blow.

I glanced in the rearview mirror. He hung up, a faint smile lingering on his lips before he schooled his features back into their usual impassivity.

"So, you fought that guy because of Chloe?" I asked, my voice surprisingly steady.

Ethan's eyes met mine in the mirror, cold and sharp.

"Ava, don't look for trouble where there isn't any."

His voice was clipped.

"She's my assistant. If I let someone harass her and did nothing, what kind of man would I be? You're Mrs. Cole, you don't have to deal with office politics or unwanted advances. She does."

Just one question, and he was already defensive, angry.

I stayed silent.

His jaw tightened. "Take me to the office. I have some things to sort out."

I glanced at him again. The old Ava would have fussed, told him to rest, not to work so hard.

Now, the words wouldn't come.

I made a U-turn, heading downtown towards the Cole Financial headquarters.

He got out of the car. "Thanks for tonight," he said, a reflex.

Then he slammed the door and strode into the building without a backward glance.

His phone lay on the seat. He'd forgotten it.

I picked it up, a stupid, ingrained habit of trying to fix things for him.

I followed him up.

The door to his office suite was slightly open. I heard Chloe's voice, soft and tearful.

"Mr. Cole, thank you so much for today. I don't know what I would have done without you."

A muffled sob.

Then Ethan's voice, soothing. "It's okay, Chloe. I'm here. Don't be afraid."

I froze, his phone suddenly heavy in my hand.

I peeked through the crack.

He had his arms around her. Chloe was pressed against his chest, her shoulders shaking.

Ethan looked down at her, his eyes full of a tenderness I'd only ever dreamed of. He lowered his head, his lips near her ear.

Chloe suddenly pushed him away, her eyes wide and red.

"No, Mr. Cole. We can't."

She shook her head. "You're married. We mustn't."

Ethan didn't look angry. He looked... understanding. He stepped closer again.

His voice was a low murmur. "Chloe, if you're unhappy... I can get a divorce."

My hand clenched around his phone.

Divorce.

He said it so easily. Ten years, gone, just like that.

I didn't want to hear any more.

He never called me Ava with such gentleness. It was always "Ava," formal, sometimes impatient.

Even in bed, it was mechanical, a duty. I was always the one to initiate, to try and bridge the gap.

For ten years, it had been like this.

I thought some people were just slow to warm up.

No. He just didn't like me.

I bit my lip, hard, tasting blood. I placed his phone on the floor by the door and turned away.

Outside, rain started to fall, a sudden downpour.

My vision blurred. Tears, or rain, I couldn't tell.

Crossing Park Avenue, a green light for me. A large truck ran the red.

Headlights blinding me. The screech of tires.

Then, impact. Blackness.

I woke up pinned in the driver's seat, the car a wreck around me. The smell of gasoline was strong.

My arm throbbed. My head spun.

I fumbled for my phone. My first instinct, stupidly, was to call Ethan.

His voice was cold, impatient. "What is it?"

"I... I've been in an accident," I managed, pain shooting through my shoulder. "The car's totaled. I'm stuck."

I could hear the truck driver outside, shouting. "It's leaking fuel! It could blow!"

Before I could say more, I heard Chloe's voice in the background on Ethan's end. Soft, concerned. "Mr. Cole, you look tired. Let me give you a massage."

Ethan spoke quickly into the phone. "I'm busy right now. I'll send someone."

He hung up.

My emergencies were never important enough for him to handle personally.

His assistant, a meeting, anything was more pressing.

He was always busy. Always unavailable.

"Ava? Ava, are you okay?"

A familiar voice, urgent.

I turned my head. Noah Williams. Ethan's college friend, one of the city's top human rights lawyers.

So, this time, Ethan had outsourced me to his best friend.

"I'm stuck," I whispered.

Noah's brow furrowed. He disappeared for a moment, then returned from his car with a pry bar.

He worked quickly, efficiently, freeing me from the mangled metal.

He examined me, his eyes filled with genuine concern. "Can you move your leg? We need to get you to a hospital."

He seemed more worried than I was.

I didn't move. I leaned on his arm to steady myself.

"Noah," I said, my voice raspy. "You're a famous lawyer, right?"

He looked down at me, puzzled.

A grim smile touched my lips. "Then please, help me draft a divorce agreement."