Chapter 2 The Mistress

(Scarlette's)

Ethan stood frozen, staring at me as if he hadn't heard a word I just said.

"Ethan?" I waved my fingers in front of his face, my stomach twisting. "Did you hear me?" My voice trembled a bit.

Of course, he had heard me. Loud and clear. But my dear husband, always so careful, always so composed-would find a way out of this. He always did.

"Kitten... um..." He cleared his throat, forcing a smile. "You should rest. It's late, and we just finished celebrating our fifth anniversary. That was huge, right? Let's just..." His hand landed lightly on my shoulder, steering me toward the bedroom door, trying to end the conversation before it even began.

But I wasn't letting this go.

"No!" I snapped, shoving his hand off.

His eyes darkened, caught off guard by my sudden outburst.

"Why can't we have sex, Ethan?" My breath hitched, anger bubbling up. "It's been so long since you touched me. And right now, I'm starting to think otherwise."

His jaw tightened. "Scarlette, that's enough." His voice turned sharp. "You're trying to start an argument, and it's pointless."

"Pointless?" I let out a bitter laugh. "You think having a baby is pointless? Five years, Ethan. Five fucking years!"

"What the hell is wrong with us having sex?"

My chest rose and fell quickly. "You've been avoiding me... not touching me, not even making love to me as your wife."

I took a deep breath, swallowing the lump in my throat.

"Tell me.. Ethan, Why can't we have sex?" The words slipped out sharper than I intended, but softer than a scream. A cry more than an accusation.

"If you think I didn't notice, or I didn't crave to be touched, then you must be joking." I spun on my heel and stormed into the bedroom.

Ethan followed.

It had been eight long months since Ethan last touched me, and yet he acted as if it wasn't a big deal. As if our marriage could survive without intimacy. As if I should be okay with it.

I walked to the vanity table, my fingers moving quickly as I removed my jewelry, earrings, necklace, rings-dropping them onto the glass surface with soft clinks. My chest felt tight, frustration crawling under my skin.

I stood, walked to the closet, and grabbed a silk nightdress, slipping it on before sitting back down at the vanity.

Ethan was already heading toward the bathroom when I suddenly spoke.

"Fine. If you won't have sex with me, and you don't think having a child is important, let's adopt one."

My voice was calm, but desperation lingered in the words.

Ethan stopped mid-step, his hand gripping the doorframe. Slowly, he turned to look at me.

"Adoption?" he echoed, his face was hard to read.

I met his gaze in the mirror. "Yes. Let's adopt a child."

A long silence stretched between us before he scoffed. "And this... is it for you? Or is it for my mother?" His voice was sharp, cutting through the thick air.

I exhaled, turning my back to him. "Whatever, Ethan. But it's happening."

I heard his sharp intake of breath, the tension thickening. Without another word, he stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

That night, the silence between us was unbearable. Suffocating.

Ethan came out of from the bathroom, barely sparing me a glance. Without a word, he climbed into bed, pulled the sheets over himself, and turned away as if he had nothing to worry about.

I turned off the lights and slipped into bed beside him, forcing myself to push away the day's frustrations.

I wrapped my arms around Ethan, hoping-just hoping... that maybe he'd feel something. That maybe he'd remember I was still his wife. That a woman was holding him. But he didn't even flinch.

And in that moment, I couldn't help but wonder... maybe Mother was right.

Maybe I really am just a stick-unwanted, unfelt, invisible.

Just as my eyelids grew heavy, a message beeped from Ethan's phone.

I tensed.

Usually, he turned off his phone before bed. Why hadn't he tonight? Was he expecting something?

Another beep.

I glanced at him-his breathing was deep, steady. He was already snoring.

I hesitated for only a second before reaching for his phone on the nightstand. The screen was locked.

Strange. Ethan had never locked his phone before, Or maybe I just haven't noticed that he has started locking his phone. My stomach tightened.

I tried my birthday.

Incorrect.

His birthday.

Incorrect.

Our anniversary.

Wrong again.

A cold chill ran down my spine.

With shaking fingers, I tried his middle name.

{Thane.}

The phone unlocked.

And then I saw messages from an unknown number.

My breath caught in my throat as I clicked on them.

{Baby, when are we going to see again? I've missed you!}

{Let's meet tomorrow. Damn, I need to see you. Address below.}

My hands trembled. My lips parted, but no sound came out.

Ethan... was cheating on me?

No. No, this couldn't be real. Not my Ethan. Not the man I had loved for years.

But the proof was right there, glowing on the screen in the darkness.

I clenched the phone tighter, my chest tightening, my stomach twisting with nausea.

Who was she? How long had this been going on?

A thousand questions burned in my mind, but none hurt as much as the one I couldn't ignore.

Was I ever enough for him?

The night stretched on, long and torturous, but I never closed my eyes.

I had been stabbed by the one person I trusted most.

********

Morning came too quickly-too damn quickly.

As I opened my eyes, the sting of betrayal returned, raw and cruel. My vision blurred with fresh tears. Last night played over in my mind like a nightmare I couldn't wake up from.

I hadn't yet confirmed who she was. But I would.

Today.

Today, I'd find out if Ethan truly was the man behind those messages.

If he really had another woman.

Ethan was already awake-fully dressed, standing in front of the mirror, humming softly to himself.

Unbothered. Unmoved. As if nothing had happened.

As if we hadn't had a fight. As if he hadn't shut me down. Like he wasn't fucking another woman behind my back. Goddammit!

I sat up slowly, stretching my arms and legs.

"Ethan..." I murmured, rubbing my eyes. "You're up early... and dressed already."

He glanced at me through the mirror with a casual smile. "Yes, yes... I've got an important meeting in a few minutes."

He turned, straightening his jacket. "Kitten... about what we talked about yesterday..."

I stood up, walked to him, and began adjusting his tie. My fingers tightened a little too much around the knot. I imagined what it would feel like to just... pull.

Strangle the lies out of him.

But no. Not yet. First, I needed proof.

"Yes?" I asked calmly. "We talked about a lot. So... which part exactly?"

He gave a small laugh. "The adoption. I think we should think it through. Not rush into any harsh decisions, you know?"

His hands landed gently on my shoulders. I felt his touch like poison.

I cut him off. "Yes. I thought about it too... last night." I looked him straight in the eyes, forcing a smile. "You're right. Maybe adoption can wait. Until I... confirm a few things."

He nodded quickly, clearly relieved. "Good. That's... good."

Then he leaned in and pressed a kiss to my forehead. I stayed still, like a statue, letting it happen.

Liar.

He picked up his briefcase and left.

Left to see her, Left to meet his whore.

But I was done sitting still.

Today, I will find her. Figuring out whom my Husband's other woman is will absolutely be my goddamn mission today.