Chapter 4

The world stopped. The music, the chatter, the clinking of glasses-it all faded into a dull roar in my ears. All I could see was Ethan's face, pale and stricken.

He turned on Willow, his eyes blazing with a rage I had only seen once before-when he'd vowed to destroy her.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he snarled, his voice a low, dangerous growl. He grabbed her arm, his fingers digging into her skin.

Willow didn't flinch. Instead, her eyes filled with tears. "You're hurting me, Ethan."

Then, in a movement so fast I almost missed it, she reached into her evening bag and pulled out a small, ornate fruit knife from the dessert table. She pressed the tip of it against her own wrist.

"Let go of me," she hissed, "or I swear I'll do it. I'll do it right here."

The crowd gasped. Ethan froze, his face a mask of horror.

"Willow, don't be crazy. Put the knife down," he pleaded, his voice cracking.

But she just pressed the blade harder, a thin line of red welling up on her skin.

Without a second thought, Ethan lunged forward. Not to disarm her, but to protect her. He wrapped his hand around the blade, squeezing it tightly. Blood, dark and thick, streamed from his palm, dripping onto the pristine white marble floor.

"See?" he said through gritted teeth, his eyes locked on hers. "I'd do anything for you. Just put it down."

My heart, which I thought had already been shattered into a million pieces, broke all over again. In that moment, I saw the truth. It wasn't about the baby. It wasn't about his family's legacy. He loved her. He truly, deeply loved the woman who had ruined my life. All the lies, all the deception-it was all to keep her.

Willow's eyes widened. She dropped the knife with a clatter. Then, her face crumpled, and she swayed, pressing a hand to her forehead.

"I... I don't feel well," she whimpered. "The baby..."

It was a performance, a masterful one. And Ethan fell for it completely.

He didn't even glance at his bleeding hand. In one swift motion, he scooped her up into his arms, holding her as if she were the most precious thing in the world.

As he turned to rush her out, his shoulder bumped into me, sending me stumbling backward. My legs, still weak from my collapse earlier, gave out from under me. I fell to the floor, my head hitting the marble with a sickening thud.

But Ethan didn't notice. He didn't even look back. His entire world was focused on the woman in his arms. He pushed through the stunned crowd and disappeared out the door, leaving me in a heap on the floor, surrounded by strangers and the wreckage of my life.

The last thing I saw before the darkness consumed me again was his mother, Eleanor, looking down at me. Not with concern, but with cold, calculating triumph.

I woke up to the smell of antiseptic. I was in a hospital room. The light was dim, and for a moment, I was disoriented.

Ethan was sitting in a chair by the bed, his head in his hands. His right hand was heavily bandaged.

He looked up when he heard me stir. His face was full of remorse.

"Liv. You're awake. Thank God."

He rushed to my side, trying to take my hand. I pulled it away.

"Don't touch me," I said, my voice raspy.

He flinched. "I'm so sorry. I... I panicked. I don't know what I was thinking."

"You were thinking about her," I stated, my voice devoid of emotion.

"Willow showing up like that... it was a complete surprise," he said, his words tumbling out in a rush. "She's unstable, Olivia. I was afraid of what she might do, in front of everyone. It would have ruined the family's reputation."

He was still lying. He was trying to frame his actions as a noble sacrifice to protect his family's honor.

"I've handled it," he continued, trying to sound reassuring. "She's getting the help she needs. I promise you, she will never bother you again."

Another empty promise. Another lie.

A nurse bustled in to check my vitals. She was cheerful and chatty.

"Feeling better, dear?" she asked, wrapping a blood pressure cuff around my arm. "You gave us quite a scare. It's a good thing you're here. We need to be extra careful, especially after the procedure you had yesterday."

The air in the room went still.

I saw Ethan's head snap up. His eyes narrowed. "Procedure? What procedure?"

The nurse, oblivious, continued. "Oh, you know. The D&C. You'll need to take it easy for a few weeks. No heavy lifting."

My blood ran cold.

But Ethan didn't seem to process her words. His focus was entirely on me, on my pale face and the cold fury in my eyes. He was so consumed by his own drama, his own guilt, that the nurse's words just washed over him. He missed it.

His phone buzzed on the nightstand. He glanced at the screen, and I saw his jaw tighten. Another message from Willow.

He stood up, his face a jumble of conflicting emotions.

"I need to... I have to make a call," he mumbled, already backing out of the room.

I didn't say a word. I just watched him go.

When he was gone, I closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep. I needed to think. I needed a plan. The old Olivia was gone, shattered on the floor of that ballroom. A new one was beginning to form in her place, someone harder, colder, and ready to fight.

I would let him think I was weak. I would let him think I was broken. And when he least expected it, I would take back my life.