That night, after the storm between us calmed, the mansion finally fell quiet.
But I didn't sleep.
Ethan's half–answer still echoed in my skull.
"It was just business."
Business didn't call someone that late.
Business didn't make a man look like he'd swallowed a secret whole.
I lay on my side of the bed, staring at his back. His breaths were steady, calm, as if nothing bothered him at all. He always slept like that, quiet, composed, untouchable. Meanwhile, my chest felt like it was carrying a stone.
Why can't he just tell me the truth?
Why does it hurt so much that he won't?
By morning, the silence between us felt thick, unfamiliar. Ethan left early for a meeting, leaving only a brief, "Rest more. You look tired," before disappearing through the door.
I stood at the top of the grand staircase, watching him walk out.
He didn't look back.
The Charity Event
Later that afternoon, Mrs. Lane, the event coordinator for a charity foundation—called to confirm my attendance for the evening's art auction. Ethan had donated a substantial amount. Of course we were expected.
I dressed quietly, choosing a soft ivory gown with a delicate backless cut. My hair fell in loose curls, makeup light, lips tinted a rose shade. Looking elegant, composed.
Even if my heart wasn't.
Ethan arrived just as I finished fastening my earrings. He paused in the doorway of their room, eyes scanning her slowly. For a moment, just a second, there was something warm in his gaze.
"You look beautiful," he said simply.
My fingers froze. Compliments were rare. Too rare.
"Thank you," I whispered.
He offered his arm. I hesitated…
Then placed my hand on his.
The ride to the Marriott Hotel was quiet but not hostile. Just… heavy. I kept glancing at his phone on the dashboard, waiting, hoping it wouldn't ring again.
It didn't.
But that didn't soothe me either.
Flashlights greeted us as we entered the grand ballroom. Couples, donors, investors, all dressed in shimmering gowns and tailored suits. A soft melody drifted from the string quartet, the clinking of wine glasses filling the air.
Ethan held my waist lightly, guiding me through the crowd. His touch was warm, grounding. Moments like this made everything feel confusing.
"He's so attentive tonight," I murmured inwardly.
"Why only tonight?"
They spoke with several business partners and sponsors. I smiled, laughed when appropriate, made polite conversation. I've grown into this role, his wife, better than I ever expected.
But then it happened.
As we headed toward the display of sculptures, a woman stepped directly into their path, blocking my view.
Tall.
Red dress.
Dark hair in soft waves.
A confidence that filled the room like perfume.
"Ethan."
Her voice was smooth, familiar. Too familiar.
Ethan stiffened.
"Camille," he said. Flat. Controlled.
My heart dropped straight to her stomach.
Camille.
The name he refused to say.
The person on the other end of the late-night call.
So, this was her.
Camille's eyes slid to me, slow, assessing, amused.
"So, this is your… wife."
She said it like the word tasted bitter.
I extended her hand politely. "Liana."
Camille shook it lightly, insincerely. "I've heard… nothing about you."
A sharp little smile.
The kind that cuts instead of charms.
Ethan cleared his throat. "This event is not the place—"
"Oh, relax. I'm just greeting you." Camille leaned in slightly, voice lowering. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"
I watched Ethan's jaw tighten.
Jealousy isn't loud like anger.
It's quiet, creeping, a cold hand tightening around your heart.
"Excuse us," Ethan said abruptly, placing his hand on my back.
But Camille stepped closer again, close enough to touch his sleeve.
"I'll see you around, Ethan."
A promise. A threat. Both.
I didn't breathe until they were several tables away.
Ethan handed me a glass of water. "You okay?"
"I'm fine," I said, but my voice betrayed me.
His brows drew together. "She's nothing. That was—"
"Don't lie to me," I whispered.
It came out harsher than I meant, but I didn't regret it. Not anymore.
His eyes flickered. "It's complicated."
"Everything with you is complicated," I murmured. "Except when you're with her, apparently."
Ethan ran a hand through his hair, agitated. "This isn't the place."
"Then when?" I demanded softly. "When will you stop shutting me out?"
He didn't answer.
He looked away.
And that silence was louder than any confession.
We returned to the mansion after the event, both exhausted from pretending to be the perfect couple under chandelier lights and forced smiles.
Ethan went to shower first. I sat at the edge of the bed, fingers trembling slightly.
I remembered Camille's smirk. The glint in her eyes. The knowing tilt of her head.
He's mine.
That's what her expression said.
Loud and clear.
When Ethan's phone vibrated on the nightstand, I flinched. She forced herself not to pick it up.
"I won't go through his phone," I whispered. "I won't."
But something pushed me to move, a quiet, fragile instinct that told me Ialready knew.
Instead, I walked to Ethan's office. The door was slightly open, the room dark and neat. His desk lamp cast a warm circle of light across the polished wood.
I opened the top drawer gently.
Inside were documents, silver pens…
and a small black velvet box.
My stomach dropped.
I lifted the lid with shaky fingers.
Inside was a photograph.
Camille.
Laughing in the sunlight.
Wearing the same necklace she wore tonight.
Carefree. Beautiful. Dazzling.
Ethan had kept this.
Here.
Hidden.
Close.
Tears blurred her vision.
I pressed a hand against my mouth as a quiet sob escaped.
"Why… why do you still have this…?"
My voice cracked into the empty room.
I placed the photo gently back in the drawer, as if it might burn me if I held it longer.
Then I closed it.
Slowly. Carefully.
As though closing it would somehow help me close the wound in my chest.
It didn't.
When I entered, Ethan was drying his hair with a towel. Drops of water rolled down his neck, glistening under the soft lights.
He looked up. "Liana? Where did you go?"
My eyes were red. He noticed immediately.
"What happened?"
His voice softened, a rare warmth.
I shook her head. "Nothing. Just tired."
He stepped forward, reaching for my cheek.
I stepped back.
Just one step.
But it felt like a canyon.
Ethan's hand fell to his side.
His brows lowered in confusion. "Liana…"
I crawled into bed without another word.
Facing away from him.
My back trembling silently.
Ethan stood there for a long moment, unsure, lost even, before finally, carefully… he lay down too.
A gulf of unsaid words lay between them.
Huge. Cold. Growing.
I stared into the darkness, tears soaking my pillow.
Tomorrow, everything would change. I just didn't know it yet.