Chapter 2

Ethan drove us home in dead silence.

In the confined space of the SUV, the air was suffocatingly thick with the sweet, cloying scent of Hailey's expensive perfume.

I leaned my head against the cold passenger window, unable to utter a single word.

When we finally got home, the automatic lights in the hallway flickered on.

On the dining table sat the healing herbal broth I had carefully prepared for him before leaving for the hospital yesterday morning. It was now cold and stagnant. Right next to it was a handwritten list of notes from my doctor detailing my post-surgery care instructions.

"Go get some rest," Ethan said, sliding his coat off. His voice was flat, completely devoid of emotion.

"How is Hailey?" I asked, gripping the wall for support. My throat felt like sandpaper.

He immediately jumped to her defense. "She just finalized her divorce. Her emotions are all over the place. I couldn't just leave a sick, vulnerable woman alone."

He said it so casually, as if it were the most logical thing in the world.

Then, he walked into the kitchen and noticed a thick manila folder on the table. It was an urgent set of financial and legal documents regarding my father's logistics company.

My father's business was on the brink of collapse due to a fraudulent lawsuit. Since Ethan was the senior partner at Vance & Associates, I had placed the documents in the most prominent spot, hoping he would review them tonight.

He picked up the file, flipped through a few pages, and scowled.

"This is a mess. Tell your dad's assistant to organize this properly and send it to my office tomorrow."

"If you had spared just thirty minutes last night, you would have finished reading it," I said, staring at him. "Instead, you spent hours editing Hailey's divorce agreement, writing notes on every single clause."

Ethan paused, his face darkening instantly.

"That was just a quick favor." He groaned defensively. "Hailey is a single woman who doesn't understand legal jargon. Maya, can you stop overcomplicating things?"

"Overcomplicating?" I almost laughed, though it felt like a sob. "I was on an operating table losing our child. I sent you over twenty messages. You didn't reply to a single one. Why couldn't you do me a 'quick favor' and text me back?"

He stood there, speechless, before falling back on the same excuse he had used for seven years.

"Hailey's parents died when we were young. On their deathbeds, they trusted me to watch over her. I promised them I would take care of her."

"So your 'promise' means my father's multi-million dollar bankruptcy case gets pushed to the back burner?" My hand gripped the edge of the dining table so hard my knuckles turned white.

A flicker of exhaustion crossed Ethan's eyes.

"I've told you a hundred times, Maya. This lawsuit isn't that easy to lose."

"Then tell me, what is easy to lose?"

He slammed the file onto the wooden table with a loud, echoing thud.

"Hailey's case is about helping a clinically depressed woman escape a toxic, abusive ex-husband and start a new life! Your father's case is just a standard corporate dispute!"

A sharp, violent cramp suddenly ripped through my lower abdomen. Cold sweat broke out across my back instantly.

I doubled over, clutching the table edge to keep from collapsing.

Ethan's eyes flashed with a momentary panic. His lips parted as if he wanted to reach out.

Right then, his phone blared with a unique, high-pitched ringtone.

The ringtone reserved solely for Hailey.

He answered it on the very first ring.

"Hey, Hailey? Don't worry, I'm here..."

The harsh, defensive voice he had just used to yell at me instantly dissolved into a gentle, soothing whisper I had never heard before.

Without throwing another glance my way, he walked straight into his home office, whispering sweet reassurances to the woman on the other end of the line.

"Shh, baby, I'm here. I'll stay on the phone with you until you fall asleep..."

Click.

The office door closed, shutting me out of his life completely.

Listening to the faint, tender murmurs filtering through the wooden door, the physical pain in my body suddenly felt numb.

Slowly, I forced myself to stand straight.

I grabbed the bowl of cold broth and swept it, along with the expensive porcelain bowl, straight into the trash can.