Chapter 3

A week after he returned from Paris, Ethan was methodically sorting through his architectural plans when Olivia walked into their house for the first time since the hospital incident. She looked impeccable, as always, radiating an aura of power and control.

"We have to go to my family's dinner tonight," she announced, not as a request, but as a command. "It's my grandfather's birthday."

Ethan didn't look up from his desk. "Our contract is over, Olivia. I have no obligation to go."

"The divorce papers haven't been finalized by the lawyers yet," she stated coolly. "Technically, you are still my husband. My grandfather expects to see you there. Don't make things difficult."

He wanted to refuse, but he knew the Hayes family. Making things difficult was not an option. He sighed and closed his portfolio. "Fine."

The Hayes family estate was an imposing mansion that screamed old money and influence. The dinner was a lavish affair, with dozens of relatives and business partners milling about. Ethan stood by Olivia's side, a silent, smiling prop, just as he had done for the past three years.

The main topic of conversation at the dinner table was, as it often was, legacy. Olivia's grandfather, a formidable old man with eyes that missed nothing, turned his gaze to them.

"Olivia, you've done wonders with the company," he said, his voice a low rumble. "But a company is not the only legacy. It's time for you and Ethan to think about the next generation. A great-grandchild would make an old man very happy."

The table went quiet. All eyes turned to them. Ethan felt a flush of heat creep up his neck.

Olivia placed her wine glass down with a delicate click. "Grandfather, we've discussed this. My focus is on the company's global expansion. A child is not in my plans right now." Her tone was respectful but firm.

Her grandfather's eyes narrowed. "Nonsense. A woman's duty is to her family first. The company can be managed by others. Bearing an heir is something only you can do."

The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. Ethan just wanted to disappear. He saw Olivia's jaw clench, a tiny sign of her frustration. She hated being told what to do, especially when it came to her life choices.

After dinner, as guests mingled, Olivia's grandfather summoned Ethan to his study. The room was dark and imposing, lined with leather-bound books and portraits of stern-faced ancestors.

"Sit," the old man commanded, gesturing to a hard-backed chair in front of his massive mahogany desk. Ethan sat.

"Olivia is stubborn," her grandfather said, lighting a cigar. "She has her mother's ambition, but she lacks her mother's sense of duty. She thinks this marriage is a game, a contract she can just walk away from."

He puffed on his cigar, filling the room with smoke. "But you, Ethan. You are a sensible boy. You understand the importance of family, of legacy."

Ethan remained silent.

"I want you to convince her," the old man said, his eyes drilling into Ethan. "Convince her to have a child. I've had my lawyers draft a new agreement. If you succeed, and she produces an heir within the next year, I will personally grant you 10% of the company's shares. That's a sum that could set your family up for generations."

Ethan stared at him in disbelief. He was being asked to manipulate his wife, to trap her with a child, all for money. The old man saw marriage and children as business transactions, tools to secure his dynasty.

For three years, Ethan had been docile. He had been obedient. He had swallowed every insult, every moment of neglect, hoping for a crumb of affection from Olivia. But this, this was a line he would not cross. All the pain and humiliation from the past week, from the past three years, coalesced into a single point of cold, hard resolve.

"No," Ethan said, his voice clear and steady. It was the first time he had ever said no to a member of the Hayes family.

The old man's eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed in fury. "What did you say?"

"I said no," Ethan repeated, standing up. "Olivia is my wife, not a broodmare. And she is not a pawn in your games. I will not be a part of this."

"You dare defy me?" The grandfather's face turned a dangerous shade of red. He stood up, grabbing a heavy, ornate cane that leaned against his desk. "You forget who you are, boy. You are nothing. We made you. We can destroy you."

"I may have been nothing," Ethan said, his voice shaking with a mixture of fear and newfound courage. "But I will not sell my soul. Or hers."

The old man raised the cane. "You will kneel," he snarled. "You will kneel and apologize and you will do as I say."

Ethan stood his ground, his chin held high. "No."

The cane swung through the air, striking Ethan hard across his back. The pain was sharp and shocking. He gasped, stumbling forward, but he did not fall. He did not kneel.

"I said, kneel!" the old man roared, striking him again. And again.

The blows rained down on his back and shoulders. The pain was immense, but it was nothing compared to the agony his heart had endured. With each strike, he felt a piece of his old, foolish self break away.

Through the haze of pain, he could see out the study's partially open door into the brightly lit hallway. He saw Olivia. She was leaning against a wall, her back to him, completely absorbed in her phone. A soft smile played on her lips as she typed.

He knew, with a certainty that was as painful as the cane on his back, that she was texting Liam. She was in her own world, a world where he didn't exist, completely oblivious to the fact that her husband was being beaten in the next room for defending her honor.

The last thing he remembered before the darkness claimed him was the sight of her smile, a beautiful, radiant smile meant for another man.