I Gave My Heart, He Gave Me Humiliation

My life revolved around Ethan, the secret husband I loved fiercely, despite the feud between our families.

Then, Chloe Vance, his ex-girlfriend and now stepmother, cornered me in a powder room with a cruel bet: ten chances to make Ethan publicly claim me, or I'd sign divorce papers and disappear.

Each attempt to win his affection ended in public humiliation.

He remained cold, his attention always on Chloe, who openly delighted in my torment.

He looked at me with disgust when I tried to bridge the distance, abandoned me in a fire, and watched me suffer an acid attack – his only concern for her.

Despite my agony, he later tried to make me take the fall for her sordid scandals.

How could the man I loved treat me with such brutal indifference, repeatedly choosing his ex-girlfriend while I withered?

Was I merely a convenient shield, a secret to be hidden, while his true devotion remained with another woman?

The casual cruelty, the dismissive betrayal, chipped away at everything I believed.

Watching him side with her after that horrific attack, something inside me irrevocably shattered.

My foolish, stubborn love for Ethan Gold finally, completely died.

I decided then that I wouldn't just leave; I would reclaim my life and dignity, severing every last tie to the man who never truly saw me.

And he would finally understand what he had lost.

Chapter 1

Chloe Vance cornered Ava Chen in the powder room of the St. Regis.

Her voice, smooth as poisoned honey, cut through the air.

"Ava, darling. We need to talk about Ethan."

Ava's heart hammered.

Ethan Gold, her husband. A secret husband, thanks to the war between their families, the Chens and the Golds.

And Chloe, Ethan's first love, now his widowed stepmother.

"What about Ethan?" Ava tried to keep her voice steady.

Chloe smiled, a flash of perfect white teeth.

"He's mine, Ava. He always has been. But you're a persistent little thing."

She leaned closer, her expensive perfume cloying.

"So, a wager. Ten chances. Ten public events, or significant private moments. Make Ethan publicly claim you, show real love. Not just a polite arm on your elbow."

Ava felt a chill. "And if I don't?"

"All ten failures?" Chloe's eyes gleamed. "You sign the divorce papers I'll have ready. No fuss, no fight. You just disappear from his life. And mine."

Ava thought of Ethan. His rare smiles, the stolen moments that felt like sunshine.

She loved him. She truly believed she could win his heart, break through his cold exterior.

"I accept," Ava said, her voice barely a whisper, but firm.

Chloe's smile widened. "Excellent. The annual Gold Foundation Gala is next week. Let that be your first test."

Ava's initial confidence was a fragile thing.

At the Gala, she reached for Ethan's hand on the red carpet.

He was a statue, his fingers stiff, pulling away subtly as photographers flashed.

Later, she saw him in a quiet corner, deep in conversation with Chloe, who looked artfully distressed.

Chloe caught Ava's eye and gave a tiny, triumphant smirk.

One down. Nine to go.

The failures piled up. A charity dinner, a weekend at his parents' estate (now Chloe's too, in a way), a business conference. Each time, Ethan was distant, his attention fixed on Chloe's feigned needs, her "fragility."

Desperation gnawed at Ava. This was attempt number four.

They were at the Gold family's desolate Hamptons beach house. Ethan was working, as usual.

Ava had read about aphrodisiacs online. A tasteless powder.

She slipped it into his whiskey, her hands trembling.

She just wanted him to look at her, to touch her with something other than indifference.

He took a sip, then another.

A flush crept up his neck. He looked at her, a strange light in his eyes.

For a moment, Ava's hope surged.

Then, his expression hardened. He stood up, his chair scraping loudly.

"What did you do?" His voice was ice.

Ava stammered, "Nothing, I just..."

"Don't lie to me, Ava." He gripped her arm, his fingers like steel. "You think you can trick me into... this?"

He looked at her with pure disgust.

"Pathetic."

The word struck her harder than a slap.

He released her, turning his back. "I'm going out."

"Ethan, please..."

He didn't look back. He just walked out, leaving her alone in the vast, silent house.

Later that night, Olivia, Ava's sister, sent her a link to a gossip site.

Paparazzi photos. Ethan, looking concerned, "comforting" a tearful Chloe outside an exclusive Hamptons club.

The caption read: "Ethan Gold rushes to stepmother Chloe Vance's side after a trying day."

Ava stared at the screen, the image blurring through her tears.

He left her, alone and humiliated, to rush to Chloe.

The realization was a cold, heavy stone in her stomach. Chloe was his priority. Always.

The next morning, Chloe called. Ava saw her name on the caller ID and almost didn't answer.

"Darling Ava," Chloe purred. "Did you have a lonely night? Ethan was such a comfort. He said the sea air was doing wonders for my nerves."

Ava felt sick. Chloe was gloating.

"Four down, sweetie. Only six more public embarrassments before you sign those papers. I have them drafted already, you know. Very neat, very tidy."

Ava hung up, her hand shaking.

She sank onto the cold tile floor of the beach house bathroom.

Defeated. This attempt, this desperate, foolish act, had been a disaster.

Her marriage felt like a hollow shell. What was she even fighting for?

A man who looked at her with contempt?

She remembered the first time she saw Ethan Gold.

It was at a university lecture. He was a guest speaker, already a young titan in the real estate world.

He wasn't handsome in a conventional way. He was sharp, intense, with eyes that seemed to see everything.

There was an energy about him, a controlled power that fascinated her.

She'd been a naive design student, full of romantic notions. He was different. He was a challenge.

Then, a few months into their cautious, secret dating, Olivia had told her.

"Ava, you need to know about Ethan Gold and Chloe Vance."

Olivia, ever the pragmatic lawyer, laid out the facts.

Chloe had been Ethan's first serious girlfriend. A passionate, tumultuous affair.

Then, Chloe had shocked everyone by marrying Ethan's much older, incredibly wealthy father, Arthur Gold.

"He still wears that silver watch Chloe gave him years ago," Olivia had said. "The one she had engraved."

Ava had noticed the watch. Ethan never took it off.

One evening, desperate to understand, Ava had gone to a charity event she knew Arthur and Chloe Gold would attend. Ethan was there too, ostensibly for business.

From a shadowed alcove, she saw them.

Chloe, beautiful and radiant, laughing up at Ethan.

He wasn't looking at his father. He was looking at Chloe.

Then, Chloe had leaned in, whispered something. Ethan's hand had gone to her waist, a brief, possessive touch.

Chloe's eyes met Ava's across the crowded room, a flicker of triumph in them before she turned back to Ethan.

Devastation washed over Ava. It was real. Their bond was real.

Still, Ava had persisted.

She told herself she could be better for Ethan than Chloe.

She could offer him stability, genuine love, not the drama Chloe thrived on.

She chased him, with little self-respect, she now admitted.

She ignored the warning signs, the way he always kept a part of himself back.

Then came the secret marriage.

Their families, the Chens and the Golds, were locked in a bitter business rivalry that spanned generations.

A public union was unthinkable.

"We'll tell them when the time is right, Ava," Ethan had promised. "When things calm down."

He'd slipped a simple gold band on her finger in a sterile courthouse office.

No family, no friends. Just a shared secret.

But the time was never right. His promises remained empty. He was always busy, always distant.

He consistently rejected her attempts at intimacy, at building a real marriage.

"Not now, Ava, I have an early meeting."

"I'm tired, Ava."

Sometimes, he'd look at her with a flicker of something unreadable, then turn away.

He'd make her feel cheap for wanting her own husband.

The hypocrisy was staggering, given what she knew about him and Chloe.

Now, Arthur Gold was dead. Chloe was free, a wealthy widow.

And she was openly, cruelly, playing her game with Ava.

This bet, these ten chances, felt like Chloe tightening the noose.

Ava had tried everything. Seductive lingerie, his favorite meals, trying to engage him in conversations about his work, her work, anything.

He'd look through her, or worse, at her with that polite, chilling indifference.

The memory of his face last night, the disgust, the single word: "Pathetic."

That insult, more than anything, had cracked something deep inside her.

His love, the love she'd pinned all her hopes on, wasn't just absent; it felt like it had never existed for her at all.

He wasn't just emotionally stunted. He was actively cruel, using her.

She was a shield. A placeholder. A secret to be managed, not a wife to be cherished.

His public image was a carefully constructed facade. The driven, ascetic business leader.

Underneath, he was a man tethered to a toxic past, to a woman who played him like a violin.

A small, bitter part of Ava acknowledged the failure of this latest, desperate attempt.

The thought of leaving, truly leaving, began to take root, a tiny, bitter seed.

Chloe's voice echoed in her mind, "Six more public embarrassments."

San Francisco. Her family was there. The Serene Collection had its headquarters there.

It was an island of sanity in her churning world.

But the bet wasn't over. Not yet. She had made a promise.

Ethan Gold returned to the Hamptons beach house late the next morning.

The air was still thick with the previous night's tension.

Ava was usually up, making coffee, a forced cheerfulness about her.

Today, the house was quiet. Too quiet.

He found her in their bedroom, a suitcase open on the bed.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice neutral.

Ava didn't look at him.

She continued folding clothes, her movements precise, almost robotic.

"Packing," she said.

"Packing for what? We're here for another two days."

She finally turned, her eyes holding a new, unreadable expression.

"I have a surprise for you, Ethan. It's related to my departure."

He frowned. He hated surprises, especially from Ava. They usually involved some emotional demand.

"Don't be dramatic, Ava. If this is about last night..."

"It's about everything, Ethan," she said, her voice flat. "But don't worry. You'll like this surprise."

She went back to her packing.

He watched her for a moment, a flicker of unease stirring within him.

He dismissed it. Ava was always emotional. She'd get over it.

Ava picked up a framed photo from the nightstand.

It was from their secret wedding day, a rare shot where they both looked almost happy.

She stared at it for a long moment, then walked to the trash can and dropped it in.

The sound of the frame hitting the plastic was louder than it should have been.

Ethan's eyes narrowed. "What was that?"

"Just getting rid of old things," Ava said, not looking at him. "Making space for the new."

He felt a strange pang. That photo... it was one of the few proofs of their union.

"If you're still upset about last night," he began, trying a different tactic, "I was harsh. We can talk about it. I'll... I'll make it up to you. We can go to that restaurant you like in the city when we get back."

It was a superficial offering, and he knew it.

His phone buzzed. Chloe.

He glanced at the screen. Her message was urgent. "Ethan, darling, I need you. The press are hounding me about father's will. It's dreadful."

He sighed. "I have to go. Chloe needs me."

He started for the door.

"Wait," Ava said. Her voice was stronger now.

He turned, impatient. "What is it, Ava?"

"I'm coming with you."

He stared at her. "Don't be ridiculous. You know we can't be seen together like that. Especially not now, with Chloe dealing with Arthur's estate."

He was CEO of Gold Standard Enterprises. He had an image to maintain. Their marriage was a liability.

"But I'm your wife, Ethan," Ava said, a strange calm in her voice. "Shouldn't a wife support her husband when his family is in distress? Or is that role also reserved for Chloe?"

Her logic was a deliberate echo of his own twisted justifications.

He felt a surge of irritation. "Fine. But stay in the car. And don't cause a scene."

She nodded, a small, almost imperceptible smile playing on her lips.

As they walked to his car, Ava noticed a small, velvet jewelry box on the passenger seat.

It wasn't hers.

"What's this?" she asked, picking it up.

Ethan snatched it from her. "It's nothing. A gift for a business associate."

He avoided her eyes.

Ava knew. It was for Chloe. Another token of his devotion.

At Chloe's sprawling Hamptons estate, the scene was chaotic. Reporters, photographers.

Ethan immediately went to Chloe, his arm around her shoulder, guiding her through the throng.

He spoke to the press, his voice firm, protective of Chloe.

Ava watched from the car, invisible, forgotten.

She took out her phone and sent a quick telegram to her sister, Olivia, in San Francisco.

"Phase one initiating. Need legal groundwork. A."

It was a small step, but it was a step towards her own future.

Suddenly, there was a commotion.

A protestor, someone who had lost money in one of Arthur Gold's ruthless deals, lunged at Chloe, shouting.

Ethan reacted instantly, shielding Chloe, pushing her behind him.

He was her protector. Her champion.

Ava watched, a cold clarity settling over her.

This was Ethan. This was her marriage.

The protestor, a middle-aged man with wild eyes, spat at Ethan.

"You're just like your old man! And her! She's a gold-digging whore!"

Ethan's face was a mask of fury.

"Get him out of here," he snarled at his security.

Then, to everyone's surprise, Ethan, who rarely drank in public and never before noon, grabbed a bottle of champagne from a nearby ice bucket.

He uncorked it with a loud pop and poured a glass, handing it to Chloe.

"For your nerves, my dear," he said, his voice loud enough for the reporters to hear.

He then took a long drink directly from the bottle himself, a defiant gesture.

It was a clear statement. He stood by Chloe. He would break his own rules for her.

"Anyone who bothers Mrs. Vance again will answer to me personally," Ethan announced, his eyes sweeping over the crowd.

He then turned, his arm securely around Chloe, and led her into the house.

He didn't even glance towards the car where Ava sat. He had forgotten her completely.

As he moved, his shoulder brushed hard against the car's side mirror.

Ava, who had leaned forward slightly, felt a sharp pain as the mirror, jolted by the impact, swung inwards and struck her temple.

Stars exploded behind her eyes.

Ethan and Chloe disappeared inside.

Ava touched her temple, her fingers coming away sticky with blood.

He hadn't even noticed. He hadn't seen her. He hadn't cared.

She had endured so much for this man. The secret marriage, the constant loneliness, his coldness, Chloe's taunts.

For what? For a love that was a mirage?

Her devotion felt foolish, wasted.

She fumbled in her purse for a tissue, pressing it to the cut.

The bleeding wasn't severe, but the throbbing in her head was intense.

She was alone. Again.

She spent the night in the guest room of the beach house, tending to her wound, the silence of the house amplifying her desolation.

The next morning, her phone rang. It was Chloe.

Ava almost didn't answer, but a morbid curiosity made her press the accept button.

"Ava, darling," Chloe's voice was bright, too bright. "Are you feeling better? Ethan was so worried when he heard you weren't well."

A lie. Ethan hadn't contacted her.

Then, Chloe's voice dropped, became more intimate. "He stayed with me last night, you know. He said he couldn't leave me alone after that dreadful scene. He was so... attentive."

Ava could hear the rustle of sheets in the background, a low murmur that might have been Ethan's voice.

Rage, cold and sharp, flooded through Ava.

Chloe was deliberately tormenting her.

Ava hung up.

She sat there for a moment, trembling. Then, she picked up her phone again.

She knew a reporter at a prominent gossip blog, someone who owed her a favor from an old interior design project.

She typed out a message, attaching an anonymous tip about Chloe Vance's suspicious financial dealings related to Arthur Gold's estate, hinting at potential fraud. She included specific account numbers she'd once glimpsed on Arthur's desk when she'd been forced to attend a family dinner.

It was a reckless, retaliatory act, born of pain and anger.

Nothing happened immediately. The blog didn't publish anything.

Two days later, back in New York, Ethan called. His voice was curt.

"Ava, get to my office. Now."

He hung up before she could reply.

The tone of his voice promised a storm.