Chapter 3

The day Ethan was discharged, I went to the hospital to pick him up.

But the room was already empty.

The nurse checked the bed records and told me, "Mr. Grey completed his discharge paperwork two hours ago. Miss Susan left with him."

I suppressed the bitterness in my heart and dialed Ethan's number.

It rang for a long time before connecting.

"Ethan, why didn't you tell me you were being discharged?"

He didn't say a word and hung up directly.

When I called again, I'd been blocked.

I stood in the hospital's empty corridor like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over my head.

Even if he'd forgotten my status as his wife of five years, he shouldn't be avoiding me like this, right?

That evening, my phone suddenly vibrated.

It was a message from Susan.

When I opened the image, all the blood in my body instantly flowed backward, and my breathing stopped.

In the photo was a large double bed.

On the nightstand sat two half-finished glasses of red wine.

Most jarring of all was a men's white dress shirt casually draped over the foot of the bed, alongside a silk nightgown.

That white shirt was the custom-made one I'd personally selected for Ethan during my business trip to Paris last month.

The room's décor was unmistakably from Ethan's luxury apartment in the city center.

Susan's message came through, every word reeking of nauseating pretense.

"Miranda, I'm truly sorry for disturbing you so late at night."

"Ethan... he's very dependent on me right now. He insisted I move in to take care of him. The doctor said he can't handle stress, so I couldn't refuse."

"You must be heartbroken seeing this, but love can't be forced. He only remembers me now and treats me so well he'd give his life for me."

"Miranda, for Ethan's health, please do a good deed and let us be together. He told me that as long as you agree to divorce, he'll give you satisfactory compensation."

Every word was like a knife stabbing into my heart.

My hands shook with rage as I immediately clicked into Susan's social media.

Ten minutes ago, she'd posted something visible only to me.

In the photo, she wore that oversized men's shirt, clearly Ethan's.

She stood in the kitchen, turning to smile shyly at the camera.

The caption read: "I'm still getting over being sick, and someone insists on making me a midnight snack. Being spoiled like this feels so good."

On his first day out of the hospital, he'd brought another woman into our home and even allowed his assistant to send me this disgusting provocation.

I gripped my phone so tightly my nails dug into my flesh, blood seeping out without me even noticing.

A massive sense of humiliation mixed with fury instantly consumed all my rationality.

I grabbed my car keys from the coffee table and rushed out the door like a madwoman.

Fifteen minutes later, I kicked open the password-protected door of the luxury apartment.

The password for this place had originally been my birthday. He hadn't even bothered to change it.

The living room was brightly lit, the air thick with the pungent smell of alcohol.

"Susan, you really understand me..."

On the sofa, Ethan was pressing Susan beneath him, their posture intimate.

"Ethan, Miranda just messaged me saying she..."

Before Susan could finish, she caught sight of me out of the corner of her eye and screamed like she'd been electrocuted, shoving Ethan away and frantically grabbing a throw pillow to hold against her chest.

Ethan, interrupted, turned around angrily.

Seeing it was me, the tenderness in his eyes was instantly replaced by extreme disgust.

"Miranda!" He shot to his feet. "Who gave you the nerve to break into my house?"

"Your house?" I said with reddened eyes, glaring at him. "This is marital property! You brought some questionable woman here. Do you have any shame left?"

I roughly pulled free from his grasp and raised my hand to slap the cowering Susan.

But before my hand could land, Ethan intercepted it mid-air.

"You dare touch her? Try it!"

His eyes were cold to the extreme. He jerked his hand violently, and I lost my footing, my ankle twisting painfully as I fell to the floor.

"Miranda, I'll say this one last time."

Ethan straightened his disheveled collar, enunciating each word as a warning. "I don't remember anything. Leave this place immediately. If you dare set foot here again, don't blame me for being ruthless!"