Chapter 2

It was already dark when I got back to mansion.

I took a deep breath, forcing a calm I didn't feel, and pushed the door open.

The scene in the living room made my brow furrow.

Ethan was sitting on the sofa, a spoon in his hand, feeding spoonfuls of what looked like some kind of broth to Sophia, who was nestled beside him.

She was wearing a cream-colored dress, her gaze fixed on Ethan, brimming with a soft, dependent affection.

And Rhea, his mother, sat across from them, a smile of approval gracing her face—a smile I'd never seen before, as if she were admiring a perfect family portrait.

What a happy, harmonious family.

It wasn't until a maid saw me and called my name that the three of them turned their heads in unison.

A flash of awkwardness crossed Ethan's face, but he quickly composed himself. He set the bowl down and stood up, walking toward me. "You're back. Sophia's stomach has been acting up, so I was just helping her eat something. Don't overthink it."

Sophia stood up too, her head slightly bowed. "Olivia, I'm so sorry to be a bother," she said, her voice a soft murmur. "Ever since the miscarriage, my health hasn't been good. Ethan was just being a good friend and taking care of me."

A good friend? The kind you had to spoon-feed?

I looked at her pale, delicate face, and my stomach churned.

For three years, I'd somehow never noticed how shamelessly obvious their connection had become. Looking back, I must have been completely blind, fooled by Ethan's so-called tenderness.

"Bringing your care right into our home, I see," I said, my lips twisting into a humorless smile. My voice was flat. "Ethan, I seem to recall being sick with a fever once. I don't remember you being quite this attentive."

The air in the room went still.

Rhea's brows knitted together, her glare sharp. "Olivia, what is that tone? I've known Sophia since she was a little girl; she's like a daughter to me. What's wrong with Ethan looking after her when she's not feeling well? At the end of the day, you're just some girl from the middle of nowhere. No wonder you have no class!"

"A girl from the middle of nowhere?" I let out a short, bitter laugh, my eyes sweeping over Rhea's pinched, cruel face. "Even if my background isn't good enough for you, your family was the one begging Ethan to marry me, weren't you?"

Rhea's face flushed a blotchy red. She shot to her feet, pointing a finger at me. "If your father hadn't saved Ethan's dad's life, and if the family hadn't insisted Ethan repay that debt by marrying you, do you think you would have ever set foot in this house?"

The mention of my father was a sharp, sudden pain, like a knife twisting in my heart.

Three years ago, my dad had died in an accident while saving Ethan's father.

To repay this life-debt, Ethan's father had forcibly broken up Ethan and Sophia, who were deeply in love at the time, and made Ethan marry me, the daughter of his savior.

And Ethan had channeled all his resentment—for losing the love of his life and being forced into a marriage he never wanted—directly onto me.

It was so ridiculous and absurd.

Sophia was the innocent victim, but was I the guilty party?

"So what?" I lifted my chin, my gaze turning cold. "Did I hold a gun to your family's head and force you to accept me? If you can't stand the sight of me, we can always get a divorce."

"What are you talking about!" Ethan cut me off, his voice sharp, his eyes filled with impatience. "Olivia, why are you being so unreasonable? My mom is just blunt; she doesn't mean any harm."

There it was again.

Every single time Rhea and I clashed, he always took his mother's side and demanded that I be the one to back down.

In the past, I would have swallowed my pride to keep the peace, because I loved him, because I cared about this family.

But now I finally saw it for what it was. His so-called filial piety was just another form of oppression, one reserved exclusively for me.

I scoffed, mimicking his own logic back at him. "Well, I'm blunt too. I hope you don't mind."

"Olivia, please don't be like this."

Sophia's eyes instantly reddened, her expression turning tearful. "It's all my fault. I shouldn't have come. I'll leave right now. Please don't fight because of me."

She reached for her purse.

"Sophia, sweetie, this has nothing to do with you." Rhea immediately grabbed her arm, then shot me a venomous look. "Can't even have a child, but you've certainly got a temper! Look how you've scared Sophia!"

Ethan stepped forward, his voice softening as he soothed her. "Don't say silly things. This is your home too. You can stay as long as you want."

Watching them, so close and united, my heart turned to ice.

I was the only outsider in this house.

I didn't say another word. I just turned and walked silently up the stairs. Back in the bedroom, I leaned against the door, taking a deep breath, my hand instinctively drifting to my lower abdomen.

For the baby, I had to stay calm.

About half an hour later, the bedroom door opened. Ethan walked in carrying a glass of warm milk and a small plate of pastries. "Honey, are you still mad?"

He placed the tray on the nightstand and moved to hug me. "My mom's getting older, that's just how she talks. Don't take it to heart. And Sophia's not well, and she's a simple person. She doesn't mean any harm."

The moment he got close, I caught a whiff of her perfume clinging to him—the one Sophia always wore.

A violent wave of nausea roiled in my stomach.

I shoved him away, clamping a hand over my mouth as I bolted for the bathroom and started to dry heave.

Ethan's arms froze in mid-air. He blinked, and then a flicker of surprise—no, excitement—flashed in his eyes.

"Olivia? Are you pregnant?"

Panic seized me. He absolutely could not find out now.

I fought back the nausea, rinsed my mouth with water, and avoided his gaze. "No," I said coolly. "Just feeling a little queasy. Did you need something?"

He studied me suspiciously for a few seconds but didn't press the issue. Instead, he sat down on the edge of the bed. "Actually, Sophia is very weak and needs to rest. I was thinking she could move in here for a while. What do you think?"

He said, what did you think, but his tone left no room for negotiation.

I laughed silently, coldly. His father, Owen Smith, had been gone on a business trip to Europe for less than a week, and he was already this desperate to move Sophia in? He couldn't even be bothered with the pretense anymore.

My face remained a blank mask. "She can move in. But on one condition."

"What condition?"

"The Costello family is hosting a gala next week. I'm going."

Ethan froze, a look of confusion on his face. "But you've always hated those kinds of social events."

I had my answer ready. I lowered my eyes, my voice laced with a hint of manufactured hurt. "Ethan, I've been married to you for three years. Every time you attend an important event, you take Sophia. People who don't know any better must think she's your wife, don't they?"

It worked.

The doubt on his face vanished, replaced by an expression of almost condescending understanding. He reached out and patted my shoulder, his voice returning to its usual gentle tone. "Alright, stop being dramatic. I promise. I'll take you to the gala next week."

Mission accomplished.

I let out a quiet breath of relief, but my expression remained cold. "Okay. I'm tired. I want to rest."

"Alright. Get some rest. And remember to drink the milk."

Ethan stood up, gave me one last look, and then turned and left.

The moment the door clicked shut, I exhaled a long, slow breath, my gaze hardening with resolve.

Ethan, Sophia. I would repay every bit of the deceit and humiliation you'd put me through. With interest.

And the first step of my revenge was to find Damien—the biological father of the child growing inside me.