Chapter 2

“Ethan, go get Liam something to wear.”

Vivian sat on the bed half-wrapped in a robe, lit a cigarette, and ordered me around.

Clothes were scattered all over the floor, as if telling the story of how intense last night had been.

I stood still and glanced at her.

Liam Hayes, wrapped in the blanket, looked at me with a bright smile.

“Ms. Blake, this doesn’t seem right, does it? He is Mr. Cole, after all.”

He called me “Mr. Cole,” but there was not a trace of guilt in his tone, only smugness and provocation.

The blanket slipped a little with his movement, revealing skin covered in red marks.

“Besides, I’m afraid Mr. Cole won’t have anything that fits me!”

My face was blank as I turned and walked toward the door.

“Ethan! I’m talking to you!”

Her voice came from behind me, carrying a hint of displeasure.

I paused, but I did not look back. “If he needs clothes, he can get them himself. I have things to do.”

In seven years, I had rarely gone against her.

Whether she made it obvious or only hinted at it, I almost never refused anything she asked me to do.

Today was the first time.

“What did you say?” Vivian was clearly not used to my cold attitude, and anger crept into her voice.

“You have things to do? What could you possibly have to do? You stay home every day and don’t even work for money!”

“Ethan, you’d better remember this. If I hadn’t married you, how could you have ever lived like this on your own?”

She was right.

If I had not married her, I really would not have had this comfortable life with no worries about food or clothes.

But she had forgotten that this was not the life I wanted.

Back then, my family’s company had just run into trouble.

Walter, the old butler who had taken care of me since I was young, told me that because the cash flow had broken, the family business was on the verge of bankruptcy.

If we could not find someone to invest, the old employees who had followed us for years would have nowhere to go.

It was at that moment that Vivian appeared.

She gave me one condition: marry her, and she would inject capital into my family’s company.

I hesitated.

She saw my hesitation, tapped her brush against the easel, and added in a tone that gave me no room to refuse.

“How about this? I have a bad temper, so if I make you angry in the future, I’ll paint you a portrait.”

“When I’ve painted one hundred of them, our debt will be cleared.”

After we got married, I never hoped for love.

Sure enough, it did not take long before I discovered that she had chosen me only because I resembled someone she could not forget.

The first portrait was delivered in the third month of our marriage.

The technique was exquisite.

Starting with the twentieth portrait, there was no frame.

Starting with the fiftieth portrait, it became a sketch.

Starting with the eightieth portrait, it was only a few careless strokes.

The one she drew with an eyebrow pencil on a sticky note last night was the ninety-ninth.

In the drawer of my study, ninety-eight portraits were stacked neatly.

From serious to careless, they recorded her journey from slight guilt to complete indifference.

Just then, Liam walked out of the walk-in closet wearing an off-white casual outfit.

I froze for a moment.

At that instant, he looked too much like that person.

It seemed he had come prepared.

Vivian’s gaze fixed on him.

Perhaps because of that familiar shadow, she was not as casual as usual and actually stared for a second before saying, “Not bad. Keep that style.”

Liam’s smile grew wider. “Really? Then Ms. Blake has to take me out later and buy me a few more outfits.”

Vivian nodded.

He glanced at me and deliberately asked, “Mr. Cole should come too, right?”

I knew he wanted to embarrass me.

“No, I have things to do.”

But Vivian frowned. “You’re coming too. Don’t make me say it twice.”

I knew this was not the time to clash with her head-on.

I did not argue again and answered in a low voice.

I would endure it one more time.

Once I collected the hundredth perfunctory “portrait,” I would be free.