Chapter 2

A few days later, Ethan insisted we go out for dinner.

"Just us, Sarah. Like old times. We need to reconnect."

Reconnect? I almost laughed. He was living a double life under my own roof, and he wanted to reconnect.

We were at a trendy new Italian place downtown, the kind of place where conversations from other tables were unavoidable.

A loud argument erupted from a nearby booth.

"You swore there was nothing going on with her!" a woman shrieked, her voice cracking. "Liar! You're a damned liar!"

A man mumbled something, placating, defensive.

The clatter of a dropped fork, then sobbing.

It was raw, public, and horribly familiar.

Ethan reached across the table, his hand covering mine.

"Terrible, isn't it? Some people have no discretion."

He squeezed my hand, his eyes full of that practiced sincerity.

"Thank God we don't have those kinds of problems, right, my love?"

I looked at his hand on mine. His touch felt like a brand.

"Do you believe in fidelity, Ethan?" I asked, my voice quiet, almost conversational.

He looked surprised by the question, then his expression softened into that familiar, devoted gaze.

"Sarah, what a question. Of course, I do. You are my everything. My one and only. Always."

His words were smooth, rehearsed. He probably said similar things to Chloe.

"It's just..." I said, pulling my hand away slowly. "Sometimes I wonder if anyone truly means it when they say 'forever'."

A bitter taste filled my mouth. He was so good at this, so convincing.

He leaned forward, his voice earnest, dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

"I mean it, Sarah. With every fiber of my being. You and me, forever. I'd die before I ever betrayed you."

He cupped my face in his hands, his thumbs stroking my cheeks. It was a gesture he' d used a thousand times, one that used to make me melt.

Now, it felt like a violation.

A sad, ironic smile touched my lips. Die before he betrayed me? He was already dead to me in so many ways.

"What if you did, Ethan?" I pushed, a hypothetical challenge. "What if you did betray me? What would you do?"

He pulled back, a theatrical frown on his face.

"Sarah, don't even joke about such things. If I ever, ever hurt you like that... if I ever broke our vows..." He paused for dramatic effect. "I'd want to be struck by lightning. I'd want the earth to open up and swallow me whole. I wouldn't deserve to live."

His oath was so extreme, so over-the-top, it was almost comical.

Almost.

A sharp pain lanced through me, the hypocrisy of his words twisting the knife he' d already plunged into my heart.

"You really believe that?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. "You'd really prefer death to betraying me?"

He chuckled, a low, confident sound.

"Of course, my love. The very thought is absurd. I love you too much. I'd never risk losing you."

He reached for my hand again, lacing his fingers through mine.

"You're my world, Sarah."

My world. He had shattered it.

I looked at him, at this man I had loved, this man who had saved my physical life only to destroy my emotional one.

He had no self-control, no real concept of loyalty beyond what served his own desires.

His fear of losing me was probably real, but it wasn't born of love. It was born of possession.

Just then, Chloe Vance made her entrance.

She wasn't supposed to be there. This was "our" night.

She spotted us, her eyes lighting up with a predatory gleam.

"Ethan! Sarah! Fancy meeting you here!"

She glided over to our table, a vision in a dress that left little to the imagination.

Ethan' s smile tightened, a flicker of annoyance in his eyes before he smoothed it away.

"Chloe. What a surprise."

"Mark was supposed to meet me, but he's running late," she pouted, perching on the edge of the empty chair beside Ethan. "Mind if I wait with you guys?"

She leaned in, ostensibly to talk to Ethan, her arm brushing his, her scent – that same cloying perfume from our bedroom – enveloping us.

"Are you going to introduce me to your friend, darling?" she cooed, looking at a man who had just walked past our table and smiled at Ethan.

Ethan' s jaw tightened. "He's a business acquaintance, Chloe."

A subtle possessiveness in his tone. He didn't like other men looking at his... women.

Chloe turned her attention back to us. "So, what are you two lovebirds up to tonight? Celebrating something special?"

Her eyes flicked to me, a knowing, taunting glint in them.

"Just a quiet dinner," Ethan said, his voice a little too hearty. "Actually, we were just about to head to the Hamptons for the weekend. Mom and Dad are expecting us."

The Hamptons. His parents. Eleanor and Arthur Gold.

They had never approved of me. I wasn't from their world, not "old money." Their obsession was with Ethan producing an heir for the Gold dynasty.

Chloe pouted prettily. "Oh, the Hamptons. Sounds lovely. Wish I could come."

She gave Ethan a lingering look, then stood. "Well, I see Mark. Don't want to keep you. Have fun!"

She sashayed away, leaving a trail of her perfume and a heavy silence.

The drive to the Gold family estate in the Hamptons was tense.

Ethan tried to make small talk, but I responded in monosyllables.

I knew his parents disliked me. They made no secret of it.

Eleanor, his mother, with her perfectly coiffed hair and icy demeanor, always found a way to remind me of my "inferior" background. Arthur, his father, was more overtly dismissive, barely acknowledging my presence.

Ethan, to his credit, had always defended me against them.

"Sarah is my wife, Mother. You will treat her with respect."

It was one of the things I had loved about him, his loyalty in the face of their disapproval.

Now, that loyalty felt like another lie.

This visit was unavoidable. Arthur had apparently had a minor health scare, and Eleanor had insisted Ethan come, and bring me. "For appearances, dear."

The reception was as cold as I expected.

Eleanor offered a cheek for a kiss that was more air than contact. Arthur grunted a hello.

"Ethan, darling, you look tired," Eleanor said, ignoring me completely. "This city life is draining."

Ethan' s arm was tight around my waist. "We're fine, Mother. Just a little traffic."

He led me into the cavernous living room, all antiques and oppressive silence.

"I'll go check on Dad," he said, giving my shoulder a squeeze.

Leaving me alone with Eleanor. Perfect.

The moment he was gone, she turned to me, her eyes like chips of ice.

"You know, Sarah, it's been five years. Arthur isn't getting any younger. We expected... progress by now."

Progress. She meant a grandchild. An heir.

"We're very busy with our careers, Eleanor," I said, my voice carefully neutral.

"Careers," she sniffed. "A Gold heir is more important than any art gallery, wouldn't you agree?"

The confrontation I had dreaded. But now, knowing what I knew about Ethan and Chloe, a reckless idea sparked.

"Actually, Eleanor," I said, a small, cryptic smile playing on my lips, "you might get your wish for a grandchild sooner than you think."

Her perfectly plucked eyebrows rose. "Oh?"

Before I could elaborate, Ethan returned. "Dad's resting. He seems okay."

He looked from his mother to me, sensing the tension. "Everything alright?"

"Perfectly," Eleanor said, her eyes still on me, a new, speculative gleam in them.

The weekend was an exercise in strained civility.

Pointed remarks about my "lack of contribution" to the family. Subtle digs at my career.

Ethan played the dutiful son, the loving husband, a masterful performance.

On Sunday afternoon, his phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID, his face tightening.

"Excuse me," he said, stepping out onto the veranda.

I watched him through the French doors. His posture was tense, his voice low and urgent.

Chloe. It had to be Chloe. She wasn't invited to the Hamptons, and I could imagine her fury.

He came back in, his expression strained.

"That was Mark. There's a... a crisis at the office. Something urgent. I have to go back to the city."

A crisis on a Sunday? Unlikely.

"Of course," I said. "You should go."

"I'm so sorry, Sarah. Will you be okay here with Mom and Dad until tomorrow?"

"I'll manage," I said, my voice devoid of emotion.

He kissed me, a quick, distracted peck. "I'll call you."

And then he was gone, rushing back to the city. Rushing back to Chloe.

Leaving me in the gilded cage with his disapproving parents.

The irony wasn't lost on me. He was so desperate to keep up appearances, yet his actions were unraveling everything.

My resolve hardened. This farce had to end. And it had to end on my terms.