Chapter 3

The moment the words left my mouth, my phone died.

Feeling utterly humiliated, I began the long walk back to the city.

The long dress I was wearing had been shredded into a miniskirt by the "kidnappers," and the neckline was ripped low.

I suddenly remembered the dress. It was the one Ethan gave me the year he won his first major design award.

Back then, he skyrocketed to fame with a bold, avant-garde little black dress.

That exclusive dress, which countless girls dreamed of, was custom-made for me.

But the moment I put it on, I couldn't stop thinking about the torn clothes Marcus had forced me to wear during those three days.

So, I had only worn it three times.

I felt guilty for wasting his hard work, but he had smiled and told me:

"If you don't like it, then it's not a good dress. I'll work harder to design something Chloe actually wants to wear!"

But now, every new seasonal piece he designed was worn by Amber before it even hit the runway.

After walking for three hours, I finally made it back to my apartment complex.

Suddenly, a heavy, greasy hand clapped down on my shoulder.

I whipped around, cold with fear, and pushed his hand away.

A heavy-set man smiled, revealing a row of yellow teeth. "How much for a night?"

"What?"

"I asked how much. You're wearing that trashy, ripped dress. Who are you trying to play innocent for?"

I didn't answer. I clutched my torn collar tightly and ran.

The man yelled after me, "Bitch! Dressing like a whore and pretending to be pure!"

I ran up the stairs and pushed open my door.

Ethan was there, wearing an apron, roasting the herb chicken I loved.

He acted as if today's "kidnapping" had never happened. His tone was perfectly casual.

"Go wash your hands. Dinner's ready."

Looking at the beautiful spread of food, I felt a wave of nausea.

People always said Ethan's hands were worth millions because they designed the most elegant dresses in the world.

But nobody knew those same hands happily cooked for me at home.

He set a bowl of soup in front of me. This was his way of apologizing.

"I brought the wedding dress back from the studio. I adjusted a few details. Why don't you try it on later?"

I turned my head to look at the gorgeous wedding dress hanging in the living room.

He had designed it before he was even famous.

Once, a luxury brand offered him three million dollars for the design.

Ethan was broke back then, but he rejected the offer without a second thought.

He had knelt before me with the sketch and said:

"What are fame and fortune compared to you? Marrying you is my ultimate jackpot."

When did we start to drift apart?

It seemed to start when Amber joined his studio as a fit model.

Ethan started forgetting my preferences. He began criticizing my conservative style.

And he grew to despise my job as an investigator.

The steam from the soup stung my eyes. Treating this as our final meal, I forced myself to finish the bowl.

After dinner, Ethan drew a warm bath for me.

I hesitated for a few minutes before finally putting on the wedding dress.

The way he looked at me was still intense and passionate.

But I knew he wasn't the same Ethan who had knelt on one knee and told me marrying me was his ultimate jackpot.

He brought out a strawberry cake from behind his back.

"Happy birthday, Chloe."

"And happy tenth anniversary."

Under the candlelight, his eyes were mesmerizing. For a split second, I found myself wishing we could just start over.

The next second, Amber's custom ringtone broke the silence.

Ethan answered it right in front of me, his expression instantly changing to one of concern.

I don't know what she said, but he hurriedly grabbed his car keys.

The candles weren't even blown out yet, and wax began dripping onto the cake.

It was a perfect metaphor for my life.

Ethan said as he put on his shoes, "Amber's power went out, and she's terrified of the dark. I'll go over, change the lightbulb, and come right back. Eat the cake without me."