Chapter 4

The next day, Chloe Miller was the laughingstock of Hayes Corporation.

The gala incident, coupled with my Instagram post, had spread like wildfire.

Colleagues, sensing Ethan's shift in attitude towards her – or perhaps his fear of me – ostracized her.

Mark Jenkins, Ethan' s executive assistant, discreetly fed me information. Humiliating photos of Chloe in the catering uniform were circulating on internal company message boards.

Someone had tampered with her lunch. She' d been "accidentally" locked in a supply closet for an hour.

Her calls to Ethan, Mark reported, were going unanswered.

"Should Mr. Hayes intervene?" Mark asked me during one of our clandestine calls. He' d seen enough of Ethan' s recklessness and Chloe' s manipulations to switch his quiet loyalty to me. He valued competence and stability, neither of which Ethan was displaying.

"No, Mark," I said. "She made her bed. Let her lie in it."

A week passed. Chloe didn't show up for work for three days straight.

Then, on the day of a crucial international merger meeting for Hayes Corp., a deal worth billions, a deal Ethan had been working on for over a year, he received a text message.

From Chloe.

Mark, who was in the pre-meeting briefing, saw Ethan' s face go pale.

The message, which Ethan later read aloud in a panic to his father, was a "goodbye."

It heavily implied suicide.

She thanked Ethan for his kindness, said she couldn't take the bullying anymore, and that she would "repay his kindness in the next life." She used the Chinese phrase "恩情," (ēnqíng) which struck Mark as oddly formal and manipulative, given her supposed distress.

Ethan completely lost it.

He started shouting about Stella, how he couldn't lose someone else.

He postponed the billion-dollar merger meeting indefinitely, sending shockwaves through his company and their European counterparts.

He had Chloe's phone traced. He rushed to her apartment.

He found her in the bathtub. Wrists superficially cut, more like scratches. The water was tinged pink, not the deep red of a serious attempt. A nearby empty bottle of sleeping pills looked more like the method. It was theatrical.

It was designed to remind him of how Stella had supposedly died – a rumored overdose, a tragic accident he' d always felt a complicated guilt over.

Chloe was rushed to the hospital. She was "saved."

Ethan, learning about the extent of the workplace bullying from a tearful, "recovering" Chloe, was enraged. He blamed everyone but himself and Chloe.

Meanwhile, I was at the same hospital.

My OB-GYN appointment.

I had just received the confirmation. Six weeks pregnant.

A small, fluttering hope had taken root in my heart, despite everything. Maybe this was what Ethan and I needed. A fresh start. A reason to truly build a family.

I saw Ethan in the corridor, looking disheveled and furious, talking animatedly on his phone.

I walked towards him, a hesitant smile on my face, the sonogram picture clutched in my hand, ready to share my news, to bridge the gap between us.

"Ethan," I began.

He turned. His eyes, bloodshot and wild, landed on me.

Before I could say another word, his hand arced through the air.

He slapped me. Hard. Across the face.

The force of it sent me stumbling back, my hand flying to my cheek, stars exploding behind my eyes.

"You!" he snarled, his face contorted with rage. "You did this! You're vicious, Ava! You drove her to suicide! You toxic, heartless shrew!"

He didn't see the sonogram picture fall from my numb fingers.

He didn't see the tears welling in my eyes.

He just turned and stormed off down the corridor, presumably back to Chloe' s side.

I stood there, stunned, my cheek throbbing, a deeper pain blooming in my chest.

My phone rang. It was Mark Jenkins.

His voice was grim. "Ava... Mr. Hayes just fired me. And several other senior staff who had... issues with Ms. Miller. He' s promoted Chloe. To my position. Senior Executive Assistant."

The world tilted.

The rage that filled me was cold, pure, and absolute.

I bent down, picked up the sonogram picture, and slowly, deliberately, tore it into tiny pieces.

He would pay. He would pay for everything.