Chapter 3

Chloe noticed the strange, tight smile on my face and narrowed her eyes. "What's so funny? Did you finally lose your mind?" she sneered, enjoying my distress.

I ignored her and turned to go upstairs, my movements stiff and robotic. I had a room to prepare.

As I reached the staircase, Sarah Chen suddenly swayed, pressing a delicate hand to her forehead. "Oh," she breathed, her voice suddenly faint. "Ethan, I feel a little dizzy. I think the flight... it was just so long."

Ethan was at her side in an instant, his arm securely around her waist, his face etched with concern. "Sarah? Are you okay? Here, sit down." He guided her to the nearest armchair as if she were made of glass.

He shot a dark look at me over her shoulder. "What are you just standing there for? Get her a glass of water. And don't just stand there staring. You're making her uncomfortable."

His accusation was so swift, so baseless, that it left me breathless. I hadn't done anything but exist in the same room. The power dynamic was starkly clear. She was the priority. I was the help.

"Right away," I said, my voice devoid of any emotion. I turned and walked towards the kitchen, my back straight, my head held high. Inside, my heart was splintering into a thousand pieces.

I filled a glass with water, my hand steady despite the tremor running through my body. When I returned, Sarah was leaning against Ethan's shoulder, looking pale and fragile. I offered her the glass.

As I did, Ethan watched me, his brow furrowed. My quiet, immediate obedience seemed to bother him. He was used to me arguing, pleading for his attention, showing some kind of emotional reaction. This quiet compliance, this shell of a woman, was new. For a fleeting moment, a flicker of confusion, maybe even annoyance, crossed his face before he masked it again with concern for Sarah.

"Thank you, Lily," Sarah said softly, taking a small sip. "You're very kind."

As she spoke, the light caught the diamond bracelet on her wrist. It was a stunning piece, a cascade of glittering stones that I had seen in a magazine just last month. It was a near-perfect match to a simpler, less extravagant one Ethan had given me for our first anniversary. His gift to me had felt like a grand gesture at the time. Now, seeing the superior version on her wrist, I realized mine was just a cheap imitation. Just like me.

The theme of my life. A substitute. A placeholder. A less-than version of the real thing. I stood there, invisible, as he fussed over her, the truth a cold, hard stone in my stomach.