Chapter 2

The information came back in less than an hour.

Ethan Hayes was engaged to Brittany Vance. The engagement party was tonight, at the Grand Astoria Hotel.

A quick search on Brittany Vance brought up pictures that made my stomach turn. She wasn't just unattractive; she looked mean. Her face was a mess of bad plastic surgery, lips overfilled into a permanent sneer, and her eyes held a cruel, smug glint. Her gaudy jewelry and flashy clothes screamed new money trying too hard.

This was the woman Ethan was marrying? The woman he left me for?

It made no sense. The Ethan I loved valued kindness, intelligence, and inner beauty. Brittany Vance looked like she possessed none of those things.

I stared at the party invitation Noah had forwarded me. It was a lavish, over-the-top affair.

I had to see it for myself. I had to understand.

I slipped into a simple black dress, the kind of thing I always wore. I didn't need to dress up. I wasn't going there to compete.

I was going for answers.

The Grand Astoria was buzzing with people. I slipped in through a side entrance, my face hidden in the shadows. From the back of the grand ballroom, I saw them on the stage.

Ethan stood stiffly in a tailored suit, his face pale and his smile forced. Beside him, Brittany clung to his arm, her loud, grating laugh echoing through the hall. She was even more unpleasant in person.

I watched him, my heart aching. He looked trapped. Every time she touched him, his whole body tensed. He would subtly pull away, only for her to tighten her grip. This wasn't a man in love. This was a prisoner.

"Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!" the crowd started chanting.

The chant grew louder, egged on by Brittany' s obnoxious friends.

Brittany turned to Ethan, her face alight with triumph. She puckered her misshapen lips and leaned in.

I saw Ethan' s jaw clench. He flinched, a barely perceptible movement, but I saw it. He turned his head slightly, so her kiss landed on his cheek instead of his mouth.

It was a small act of defiance, but it was enough.

Brittany' s smile faltered. Her eyes narrowed. "Ethan, honey, what' s wrong?" she purred, loud enough for the front rows to hear. "The crowd wants a real kiss."

Her voice was sickly sweet, but there was a clear threat underneath.

Ethan' s face was unreadable. He looked out at the crowd, his eyes scanning the room as if searching for an escape. He looked cornered, defeated. He took a deep, shaky breath and started to lean in again, his eyes squeezed shut.

I couldn't watch it. I couldn't let this happen.

Before I even knew what I was doing, I was moving. I pushed through the crowd of onlookers, my eyes fixed on the stage.

"Ethan!"

My voice cut through the noise. The chanting stopped. Every head in the room turned to look at me.

On the stage, Ethan froze. His eyes snapped open and found mine across the ballroom. For a split second, I saw it all there-shock, relief, and a terrifying amount of fear.

Then the mask slammed back into place.

Brittany followed his gaze, her eyes landing on me. A look of pure venom crossed her face.

"And who the hell are you?" she screeched, her voice like nails on a chalkboard.

I ignored her, my focus entirely on Ethan. "Ethan, what is this? Talk to me."

Before I could say more, before I could introduce myself as the woman he' d spent the last four years with, Ethan spoke. His voice was colder than I had ever heard it.

"Who let this stalker in here? Get her out."

Stalker. The word hit me harder than a physical blow.

He publicly humiliated me, reducing our entire relationship to a one-sided obsession. The man I loved, the man I thought I knew, was looking at me as if I were dirt on his shoe.

But his eyes told a different story. They were pleading with me. Pleading with me to leave, to save myself.