Chapter 1

The divorce date was tomorrow. Three years, down to the day.

Ethan Miller sat on the edge of the large, cold bed, staring at the framed photo on the nightstand. It was the only photo in the entire master bedroom. Their wedding photo. In it, he was looking at Olivia Hayes with a gaze so full of love it was almost painful to see now.

She, however, was looking straight at the camera, her expression professionally pleasant, a polite smile on her lips that didn't reach her eyes. There was a universe of distance between them in that single, frozen moment.

It summed up their entire marriage.

A quiet beep came from the kitchen. The slow cooker was done. Ethan stood up, his movements automatic. It was 10 PM. Olivia would be home soon, and she always came home hungry, no matter how late.

He walked into the kitchen and ladled the warm chicken and mushroom soup into a porcelain bowl. He knew she hated onions and garlic, so he never used them. He knew she liked a sprinkle of fresh parsley, so he always had some growing in a small pot on the windowsill.

He had spent three years learning every single one of her preferences, memorizing them until they were a part of him. He knew she liked her coffee with exactly one and a half sugars. He knew she preferred her bathwater at a precise 102 degrees Fahrenheit. He knew she was allergic to lilies but loved the sight of white roses. Their home was a testament to his silent, one-sided devotion.

The front door clicked open. Olivia walked in, her high heels clicking sharply on the marble floor. She looked tired, her usually perfect posture slumping slightly. She was the CEO of a tech giant, a woman who commanded boardrooms and crushed competitors, but at home, she was just a woman who carried the weight of her world on her shoulders.

"You're still up," she said, her voice flat. It wasn't a question.

"I made you some soup," Ethan replied, placing the bowl on the dining table.

She glanced at it, her expression unreadable. She didn't sit down. Instead, she loosened her silk scarf and tossed her designer handbag onto a chair. "I'm not hungry."

She walked past him towards the living room, pulling out her phone. "Is Liam back yet? Have you heard from him?"

Ethan' s heart, which had lifted a little at the sight of her, sank back into its usual heavy place. Liam Peterson. Her childhood sweetheart. The real reason for this sham of a marriage.

"No, I haven't heard from him," Ethan said, his voice quiet.

"He promised he'd call me when he landed," Olivia muttered, more to herself than to Ethan. She scrolled through her contacts, her thumb hovering over Liam's name. "This deal in Europe was supposed to be a sure thing. Why isn't he answering?"

Ethan stood by the table, the steam from the untouched soup warming his hands. "Olivia," he began, "tomorrow is the day."

She finally looked up from her phone, her eyes focusing on him for the first time since she walked in. "I know."

"Are we... are we still going through with it?" The question felt stupid even as he asked it. The contract was ironclad. Three years of marriage to appease her family and secure her position as CEO, then a clean divorce. That was the deal.

Her expression softened for a fraction of a second, but it was replaced by a familiar coldness. "A deal is a deal, Ethan. You knew that from the beginning. This marriage was to satisfy my grandfather, to prove I could be 'settled'. It was never about love. My heart has always been with Liam. You know this."

He did know. But he had been a fool. Three years ago, when Olivia Hayes, the most brilliant and beautiful woman he had ever met, had proposed this contract, he had been a struggling architect with a mountain of his family's debt.

She offered to clear his debts and fund his own studio. In return, he would be her husband for three years. He had been so hopelessly in love with her, he thought three years would be enough time to win her heart. He thought his devotion could melt her icy exterior.

He was wrong. For three years, he had been a ghost in her life, a convenient fixture. All her warmth, all her smiles, all her worries were reserved for one person: Liam.

Olivia started pacing the living room, her phone pressed to her ear. "Liam, pick up. Just pick up the phone." She sounded frantic. She started calling the airline, then the hotel he was supposed to be at. Her corporate cool was gone, replaced by a raw panic that Ethan had never seen her direct toward him.

An hour later, she was drunk. She had opened a bottle of expensive whiskey, drinking it straight from the bottle as she stumbled around the living room, still calling Liam' s number over and over again.

"Where are you?" she slurred into the voicemail. "You said you'd be here... you promised."

Ethan watched her, a familiar ache spreading through his chest. He walked over and gently tried to take the bottle from her. "Olivia, that's enough. You need to rest."

She swatted his hand away, glaring at him with unfocused eyes. "Don't touch me." Then, her body swayed, and she fell against him. Her scent, a mix of expensive perfume and whiskey, filled his senses. Her head rested on his chest, and for a moment, he let himself pretend. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her steady.

"Liam," she whispered against his shirt, her voice thick with longing. "I miss you so much."

The name was a physical blow. It shattered his brief, pathetic fantasy. He felt all the strength leave his body. Still, he held her. He couldn't bring himself to let go. He carefully guided her upstairs, her weight heavy against him. He managed to get her onto the bed and pulled the covers over her.

She grabbed his hand, her grip surprisingly strong. Her eyes were closed, but she was still mumbling. "Liam... don't leave me again..."

He froze. Her body was warm against his, her hand was in his, but her heart and mind were a million miles away with another man. In that moment of drunken vulnerability, she pulled him closer, her lips finding his in the dark.

It was the first time she had initiated any form of intimacy in three years. His heart pounded in his chest, a wild, stupid hope flaring up. He kissed her back, pouring all his pent-up love, all his desperation, into that one kiss.

And then she said the name again, a soft sigh against his lips. "Liam..."

It was like being doused in ice water. The pain was so sharp, so absolute, it stole his breath. He pulled away as if he'd been burned. He stood up, trembling, and looked down at her. She was already asleep, a faint smile on her face, dreaming of someone else.

He walked out of the bedroom and into the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face. He looked at his reflection in the mirror. He looked pale and defeated. The man staring back at him was a stranger.

He spent the rest of the night on the couch, not sleeping, just listening to the silence of the house.

The next morning, he woke to the sound of Olivia's frantic footsteps. He sat up, his body stiff. She was already dressed for work, a frantic energy about her.

"I finally heard from Liam's assistant," she said, not looking at him. "There was an accident. He was in a car crash in Paris. He's in the hospital. He needs emergency surgery."

Ethan just stared at her.

"The hospital needs a family member's consent for the high-risk procedure," she continued, her voice tight with panic. "I can't get there in time. His family is all in another country." She shoved a tablet and a stylus into his hands. "I need you to sign this. It's a power of attorney. It gives me the authority to make medical decisions for him. My lawyers just drafted it."

Ethan looked at the document on the screen. He was being asked to sign a paper that would allow the woman he loved, his wife, to save the man she loved. The irony was crushing.

"Olivia..."

"Just sign it, Ethan!" she snapped, her voice breaking. "Please. I can't lose him."

He looked at her face, saw the genuine terror in her eyes, the tears welling up. It was a look he had yearned to see directed at him for three long years. But it was all for Liam.

His hand shook as he took the stylus. He thought about refusing. He thought about saying no, about making her see him for once. But looking at her desperate face, he knew he couldn't. He still loved her too much to see her suffer.

He signed his name. He watched the digital ink dry on the screen, feeling like he was signing away the last piece of his heart.

She snatched the tablet back, not even a word of thanks. "I have to go. My flight is in two hours." She was already dialing her assistant, barking orders. She ran out of the house without a backward glance.

The front door slammed shut, leaving Ethan alone in the silent, empty house. Tomorrow was their divorce day. It seemed the end had come a day early.