Chapter 7

Olivia's POV

I had to slip out the casino's back exit, a stark contrast to the grand entrance, all to dodge Ethan.

I'd barely been home for half an hour when the front door swung open. Sophia, draped over a completely wasted Ethan, stumbled in.

The second she saw me, she made a show of pressing her cheek against Ethan's chest, a smug, provocative glint in her eyes. "Olivia, you're still up."

With a grunt, Sophia dumped Ethan onto the sofa, her smile like a hunter showing off a prize. "We were having so much fun, we lost track of time. Sorry, we forgot to text you."

"You could drop dead outside, and it would have nothing to do with me," I replied, my voice dripping with ice.

The stench of alcohol rolled off Ethan in waves. He shivered, blindly grabbing a throw blanket from the sofa and pulling it over himself. His eyes were squeezed shut as he lunged in my general direction, mumbling, "More, keep pouring."

In his current state, you could toss him into a pile of street bums, and no one would bat an eye.

I kicked away his outstretched hand, ignoring the fury flaring in Sophia's eyes. "Watch him," I said, my tone flat. "I have no desire to wake up to a puddle of vomit on my living room rug."

Sophia's face cycled through shades of red and white. She pointed a trembling finger at me, momentarily speechless.

I had zero patience for her shrill complaints. I turned on my heel and headed upstairs, leaving the perfectly matched, miserable pair to their own devices.

Just a little longer. I just had to wait a little longer, and then I would grant them their happily ever after and leave this godforsaken place for good.

One of the main side effects of pregnancy was a deep, unshakeable exhaustion. I used to be up before the sun, but now, I was a slave to my alarm clock.

This morning, even the alarm failed me. If it hadn't been for Ethan pounding on my bedroom door, I probably would have slept until noon.

I grabbed a silk robe, wrapping it around myself as I blearily opened the door. A draft of cold air hit me, and I sneezed.

Rubbing my arms, I pulled the robe tighter. "What is it?" I asked, annoyance lacing my voice.

Since Sophia moved in, Ethan and I had an unspoken agreement to sleep in separate rooms. His showing up this early could only mean one thing: he was here to defend Sophia's honor. How pathetically small of him.

He didn't answer. He just stormed into my room and slammed an envelope onto my vanity. "So that's why you agreed to let Sophia move in," he snarled. "You'd already found yourself a replacement!"

His face was flushed, and a vein throbbed in his neck. It looked like he'd rushed straight here from somewhere, not even bothering to take off his coat.

"What the hell are you talking about?" I frowned, completely baffled.

"See for yourself!" he yelled, pointing a shaking finger at the envelope. He was so angry that he looked like he might actually stomp his foot.

"What could make you—"

My words caught in my throat as the contents of the envelope slid out, scattering across the tabletop.

Photos.

The angles were sneaky, designed for maximum impact, but the images were crystal clear. Every face was perfectly captured.

Ethan took a step closer, his hot breath fanning my face. "Why were you at a casino?" He demanded, his voice a low, vicious growl. "And on Damien Costello's turf, no less? What the hell is going on between you two?"

"Didn't the person who gave you these pictures tell you?"

I hadn't looked at my phone since I got back last night. Now, I unlocked the screen. A breaking news notification was the first thing I saw.

#MARRIED HEIRESS OLIVIA REID CAUGHT IN AFFAIR WITH COSTELLO FAMILY HEAD#

Beneath the headline, thousands of comments had flooded in within the span of five minutes.

My hand tightened around my phone, my knuckles turning white. The truth was, these photos only proved that Damien and I had met. There wasn't a single touch, not even the slightest hint of intimacy. But the media had no problem slapping the affair label on it. Rumors, after all, require nothing but a wagging tongue.

Ethan was relentless. He grabbed my wrist, the muscles in his jaw twitching with rage. "I asked you a question. Did you hear me? What is going on between you?"

"Isn't it obvious from the news?" The situation was a mess, but maybe I could use it.

The pregnancy was draining my energy; just standing here felt like a chore. I pulled out a chair and sat down, facing him. "Let's get a divorce," I said calmly.

"Are you insane? You want to divorce me for him?" Ethan exploded like a lit fuse. He ripped off his coat and threw it onto the bed, then lunged forward, his hands clamping down on my shoulders. His face was a grotesque mask of fury, his features twisted together. A chill ran down my spine.

His grip tightened, threatening to crush my bones. "I will never agree to a divorce," he hissed. "Get that idea out of your head right now."

I truly couldn't understand why he was clinging to this sham of a marriage. "We get a divorce, and you can finally marry Sophia. What's so bad about that?"

Hadn't he been waiting for the chance to kick me out? Why wouldn't he seize this perfect opportunity?

I stood up, forcing myself to meet his gaze. "I cheated on you, and you still won't divorce me?"

When did he develop such a high tolerance for humiliation?

Ethan's hands clenched into fists. The next second, he slammed one of them into the wall behind me. The skin over his knuckles split open, and blood began to well up. He bit down hard on his lower lip, leaving a deep, pale indent. His ashen face made him look utterly lifeless.

I was the one in the headlines, the one who was pregnant, yet looking at him now, you'd think he was the one bearing all the suffering.

He lifted his injured hand, his bloody fingers gently touching my cheek. His tone shifted, becoming unnervingly soft. "You want to divorce me so you can be with Damien, don't you?"

I hesitated for a fraction of a second before meeting his gaze and nodding. "Who else would I go to?"

The hatred in Ethan's eyes practically spilled over. The hand on my shoulder began to tremble uncontrollably.

"Shameless."

The word had barely left his lips when his hand swung towards my face. I instinctively lurched backward, causing his slap to miss its mark and allowing me to break free from his grip.

"Ethan, if you don't love me, why insist on keeping me shackled to you?" I truly couldn't grasp his logic. He despised me, so why wouldn't he let me go?

To provoke him further, I deliberately fabricated details. "Damien and I started seeing each other a while ago. Whether you grant me a divorce or not, I'm going to be with him. Can you live with that?"

"You bitch!" He roared, lunging at me again. His hands were spread wide, aiming for my neck.

Just then, the door was thrown open, and Rhea burst in like a hurricane. She got to me before Ethan could, shoving me hard in the chest. "You shameless piece of trash!" She shrieked, pointing at me. "How dare you say something like that? I ought to rip your mouth off!"

"You can tear me to shreds, but it won't change the facts," I said, lifting my chin, my resolve hardening. "Whether you agree or not, I am getting this divorce."

"You?" Ethan sneered. He raised his hand and patted my cheek with his bloody fingers. With every tap, more blood seeped from his wounds.

The thick, metallic smell of it filled the air. He was so close, and some of the blood smeared onto my face. The coppery scent churned my stomach.

I shoved his hand away and bolted for the bathroom, gripping the sink as I dry-heaved.

I splashed water on my face, trying to wash away the nauseating smell of blood with the clean scent of cold water.

At some point, Ethan had appeared behind me. His eyes were gleaming, fixed on my reflection in the mirror, his stare making my skin crawl.

I ignored him and started to walk past, desperate to escape the small, suffocating space.

But his gaze never left me.

As I brushed past him, Ethan's hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. His eyes were filled with a probing suspicion. "What's wrong with you?"

My heart sank. I knew, with absolute certainty, what he was thinking.

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to remain calm. "I must have eaten something bad last night."

Ethan continued to stare, his eyes boring into me as if trying to see through my skin and uncover the secret hidden within.

After a long, tense silence, I heard him speak, his voice a chilling, strangely excited whisper. "When is your next check-up?"

I looked up, meeting his eyes. I watched as a slow, cruel smile spread across his face.

"I'm going with you," he said, enunciating each word.