Chapter 3

Ethan and Sabrina moved into the penthouse. The system dictated that a supportive wife would facilitate a smooth transition. I moved my things into the guest room. I made them breakfast. I was the perfect, invisible hostess.

My unnerving composure was getting to Sabrina. She saw me not as a defeated rival, but as a threat she couldn't understand.

One evening, Ethan was late for dinner, tied up in a meeting. I was in the kitchen, preparing a meal the system told me was one of Sabrina's favorites. My foot, which I had cut on a broken dish days earlier and was still healing, throbbed with a dull ache.

Sabrina walked in, her arms crossed.

"You can drop the act, Jocelyn," she said, her voice sharp. "I don't know what game you're playing, but it's not going to work. He's mine."

"I'm not playing a game," I replied calmly. "I am ensuring Ethan's happiness."

"By being his creepy, smiling little robot? He'll get tired of it. He liked your fire, even when he hated it."

Her words didn't register as an insult. They were just more data.

She saw the pot of water boiling on the stove. Her eyes narrowed. In a flash, she grabbed the pot.

"Let's see how he feels when his perfect little doll gets ugly," she snarled.

She deliberately tipped the pot, splashing the scalding water onto her own forearm. She let out a piercing scream. In the same motion, she shoved me hard.

I stumbled backward, my injured foot giving way. I landed directly on a ceramic serving dish that had been left on the floor. It shattered under my weight, and a large shard sliced deep into the sole of my foot.

The timing was perfect.

Ethan burst through the door at that exact moment. He saw Sabrina clutching her burned arm, tears streaming down her face. He saw me on the floor, propped up on one elbow, a pool of blood spreading around my foot.

He didn't hesitate. He rushed to Sabrina's side.

"Sabrina! My God, what happened?"

"She... she did it," Sabrina sobbed, pointing a trembling finger at me. "She said I was ruining your life and she attacked me."

Ethan's face was a mask of cold fury as he looked at me. He completely ignored my bleeding foot, the shattered dish, my torn clothes.

"You are insane," he spat. "Violently, pathologically jealous. I can't believe I ever thought you could change."

He scooped Sabrina into his arms. "I'm taking you to the doctor. Don't you move from this spot," he ordered me, his voice filled with venom.

He carried her out, leaving me alone on the cold marble floor, sitting in my own blood.