Chapter 4

Two days later, my phone rang. It was Olivia. It was the first time she'd called me in weeks. She usually just texted commands.

"Ethan, I need you," she said, her voice tight with panic. "It's an emergency."

"What's wrong?" I asked, a stupid flicker of concern igniting in my chest.

"It's... it's a flare-up. The old problem. My stomach. I'm at the Monarch Hotel, room 1201. I need my medication. It's in the top drawer of my nightstand. Please, hurry."

Her chronic gastritis. It had been bad when we first got together. I was the one who boiled her congee, who made sure she took her pills, who held her when the pain was too much.

A part of me, the foolish, hopeful part, thought maybe she still needed me.

I raced to the penthouse, found the small bottle of pills, and sped towards the hotel. I ran through the lobby, not waiting for the elevator, and took the stairs two at a time.

I burst into room 1201, breathless. "Olivia, I have your..."

The words died in my throat.

Olivia was fine. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking worried. But the person lying in the bed, groaning and pale, wasn't her.

It was Ryan.

"Oh, thank god, Ethan," Olivia said, rushing over to grab the pills from my hand. "He's in so much pain. His stomach has been acting up all day."

She hurried back to the bed, her voice a gentle whisper. "Here, baby, take this. You'll feel better soon."

She helped him sit up, held the glass of water to his lips, and smoothed the hair back from his forehead with a tenderness that made my own stomach clench.

Then she turned to me, her face a mask of anger. "What took you so long? He could have been seriously ill! I rely on you to be efficient, Ethan!"

I just stared at her, the accusation hanging in the air between us.

Ryan coughed weakly. "Liv, honey, don't be mad at him. It's my fault for being so weak." He gave me a pained look. "Thanks for coming so fast."

Olivia's face softened instantly. "Of course, it's not your fault. You rest." She kissed his forehead. "I'll go talk to the hotel doctor. Ethan can stay here with you."

She left the room.

The moment the door clicked shut, Ryan sat up. The color returned to his face. The pained expression vanished, replaced by a triumphant sneer.

"Fooled you, didn't I?" he said, his voice perfectly healthy. "A little bit of acting, and she comes running."

He stood up and walked over to me, circling me like a shark.

"She feels guilty," he said, enjoying my stunned silence. "She thinks my 'illness' is because she left me all those years ago. It' s the perfect leverage."

He stopped in front of me, his face inches from mine. "She's mine, Ethan. She always has been. You were just a placeholder. A warm body to keep her bed from getting cold. Now, pack your bags and get out of her life."

"I'm already leaving," I said, my voice quiet.

"I don't believe you," he hissed. "People like you... you latch on. You see a meal ticket and you don't let go."

Just then, the door opened and Olivia came back in. Ryan immediately stumbled back to the bed, clutching his stomach and groaning.

"The doctor is on his way," she said, rushing to his side. "Oh, you look worse!"

She shot me a glare. "What are you just standing there for? He needs a new assistant while his is on vacation. You'll do it. Starting now. Go get him some warm soup. No onions. He hates onions."

I looked from her worried face to Ryan's fake agony. It was a perfectly staged play, and I was the fool who didn't even know he had a part.