Chapter 2

Claire' POV

After hitting send, I stared fixedly at the screen, my breath catching in my throat.

Even a half-hearted word of comfort or a harsh text calling me crazy—just a single word from him would be enough.

A few minutes later, my phone finally buzzed.

I opened it. It was a notification from Ethan, transferring me another five thousand dollars.

I stared at the screen, suddenly clapping a hand over my mouth. I rushed into the bathroom, dry-heaving violently over the toilet.

My stomach was completely empty. I couldn't throw up anything, but tears streamed down my face uncontrollably.

As the painkillers began to kick in, my body went limp. I didn't even have the strength to stand up.

In my feverish daze, I thought I saw the Ethan from three years ago.

Back then, he hadn't yet inherited the family business. After being kicked out by his family, he worked odd jobs, saving up every penny just to buy me a diamond ring.

He had dropped to one knee, held up the ring, and asked with a smile, "Claire Bennett, will you marry me?"

I reached out with a laugh and told him loudly, "I will!"

But my tears fell first. And then, the vision completely shattered.

I covered my ears, as if doing so would drown out the memory of him saying that marrying me was the biggest regret of his life.

When I opened my eyes again, it was the morning of the third day.

I had slept for a full day. Aside from a few app notifications, there were no messages from Ethan. Not a single missed call.

Our chat history remained frozen on that last bank transfer.

I opened his Instagram.

Ten minutes ago, he had posted a new set of photos.

In the pictures, he was still at Olivia's apartment.

Under the warm yellow lights, colorful crystal beads and thin threads were scattered across the living room rug. Ethan was sitting on the floor with a pair of tweezers in hand, completely focused on helping Olivia make the handmade beaded bracelet she wanted.

The caption read: [Staying up late tonight to finish this bracelet, so I can put it on her wrist myself.]

The comment section was painfully lively.

"Ethan, I had no idea you could be this patient!"

"You two are so perfect together. We can't wait for the wedding."

"So jealous!"

I swiped through the photos one by one, a suffocating weight pressing against my chest.

Olivia casually mentioned wanting a beaded bracelet, and he kept it in mind, bought all the tools, and stayed up all night with her.

If Olivia wanted dessert from a closed Michelin-starred restaurant in the middle of the night, he would personally call and wake up the head chef.

When she was sick, he would even push aside a multi-million dollar merger just to stay by her bedside all night.

It wasn't that he didn't know how to take care of someone.

He just didn't want to take care of me.

I kept scrolling and suddenly noticed a detail.

I hadn't noticed when it happened, but Ethan's wedding ring was gone.

I stared at his bare empty finger before finally locking my phone.

The painkillers were wearing off, and my throat was parched and aching. Just as I was about to get out of bed to pour a glass of water, Ethan called.

"Come back to the estate for dinner tonight," he ordered.

I stayed silent for a moment before replying softly, "I'm not feeling well. I won't be coming today."

A cold sneer came from the other end of the line.

"Last time it was your leg, what hurts this time? Claire, exactly how much money do you want before you stop playing these games?"

I gripped the phone, my knuckles turning white.

"I don't want money."

"Then stop using your health as an excuse." His voice turned icy. "Be there on time. Don't forget your last name is Cole."

He hung up.

I stared blankly at the screen, suddenly finding the whole thing ridiculous.

If I had just amputated my leg, at least I wouldn't have to drag this agonizing limb to his family's house just to be humiliated.

I leaned against the edge of the bed to stand up, but my left leg suddenly gave out.

I lost my balance instantly, crashing heavily onto the freezing floor. A piercing, bone-deep agony shot through me.

I lay there, drenched in cold sweat, waiting a long time before I could finally drag myself up.

Taking a double dose of painkillers, I forced myself to put on a respectable outfit.

If he insisted I go, I would go.

At the very least, this would be the last time I ever compromised myself for his orders.

The Cole estate was as brightly lit as ever.

When I walked into the living room, Olivia was wearing a Miu Miu matching set, sitting beside Mrs. Cole and pouring her black tea.

The two were chatting in low voices. Mrs. Cole patted Olivia's hand gently, wearing a fond, satisfied smile. Their intimate posture made it look as though Olivia was the true mistress of the estate.

Ethan was sitting on a single sofa across from them, looking down at his phone. He didn't even look up when I walked in.

A servant pulled out the chair at the very end of the long dining table, gesturing for me to sit.

The women at the table continued their conversation about Paris Fashion Week and limited-edition handbags. No one asked why I looked so pale, and no one noticed how hard I was pressing my hand against my left leg.

Waves of pain drilled deep into my bones, and cold sweat rolled down my temples.

Until Mrs. Cole finally cast a glance toward the end of the table.

She set down her teacup and frowned.

"Claire, you've been married into the Cole family for three years now. Why aren't you pregnant yet?"

The laughter and chatter at the table slowly faded.

Mrs. Cole looked me up and down.

"What the Cole family needs is an heir to carry on the bloodline," she said coldly. "A prestigious family like ours has no use for a useless decoration who can't even bear a child."

I lowered my head, my fingers gripping my napkin tightly.

And sitting a short distance away, Ethan finally raised his eyes.