Chapter 2

The next day, Vivian came back alone.

Acting as if nothing had happened, she wore a gentle smile and carried a legal document in her hand.

"Ethan, let's talk."

She slid the document across the table.

It was an agreement.

I flipped it open.

"I'll set up a trust for you. Buy you a condo, a car. A monthly allowance. I'll spend three days a week with you."

"Caleb won't interfere with us, and he won't bother you. In return, you sign an NDA and cut all contact with him."

I finished reading, my expression deadpan.

Then, right in front of her, I ripped the agreement in half.

The smile vanished from her face.

"Why are you acting like a child?"

I looked at her, offering no explanation.

There was no point anymore.

Vivian sighed, her tone like she was coaxing a petulant toddler.

"Ethan, can't you be a little more understanding? He is my husband on paper. I can't let things escalate, and I can't afford the fallout."

"If I make a public statement, Caleb will blow this completely out of proportion. My company, my family—they'll be dragged through the mud. Ethan, don't escalate this. Can't we just handle it privately?"

Can't let things escalate.

Then who was protecting me?

After Vivian stormed off in a huff, my phone started vibrating like crazy.

A friend texted:

“Ethan, have you seen Twitter?”

I clicked the link.

The headline was blinding:

Renowned Designer Ethan Carter Wrecks a Marriage! Betrayed Husband Tearfully Speaks Out.

It featured photos of me, and photos of Vivian and me together.

It detailed Caleb's so-called "tragic ordeal."

At the very end was a copy of a marriage record issued by the City Clerk's Office in New York City.

I zoomed in on the date.

Three years ago.

They had legally married in New York three years ago.

But Vivian and I had been together for eight.

I wasn't a willing secret lover.

I was the one who had been played.

But the internet didn't care about the truth.

The comment section was a bloodbath.

“Shameless homewrecker.”

“Justice for Caleb.”

Overnight, Ethan Carter Design Studio's ratings on Google Reviews, Yelp, and industry platforms tanked to one star.

Partners sent notices terminating our contracts.

Friends kept texting:

“Ethan, is the stuff online true?”

I didn't know how to answer.

I grabbed my jacket and headed straight to Vivian's company.

When she saw me walk into her office, a flash of relief crossed her eyes. She clearly thought I had come to accept her terms.

"Ethan, have you thought it through?"

I shoved my phone in her face.

Her face dropped.

"Ethan, about this..."

"Clear my name. Now."

I stared at her, my voice dangerously low.

Vivian avoided my gaze. She stayed silent for a long time.

"If I clarify this publicly, Caleb will escalate the harassment. My company and my family will go down with me."

"Can't we just handle this privately?"

My voice shook.

"Those posts are trending across every platform. My studio is bleeding out. And you're telling me to handle it privately?"

She slammed her hand on the desk.

"Can't you be a little more mature? He is legally my husband! I can't paint him as the bad guy here!"

Suddenly, all my anger evaporated.

"Vivian, we were together for eight years."

"I proposed to you eight times. You brushed me off with 'just wait a little longer' eight times."

"Now, I'm the one getting crucified online. He's the victim—what about me?"

Her face flushed red. She looked away.

"Why do you have to fixate on this one thing? Haven't I given you enough?"

"Do we really need a piece of paper to prove we love each other?"

So, in her eyes, I was just supposed to shut up and take it.

For eight years, I had loved a woman who treated me like a kept man.

I turned and walked to the door, pausing with my hand on the knob.

"Vivian, we're done."

Her head snapped up.

"And you will clear my name publicly."

"Otherwise, I'll drop the evidence myself and let everyone know exactly what you did. When that happens, you'll lose your company, your reputation, and your entire career."

With that, I walked out. I didn't look back.

Chapter 2

The next day, Vivian came back alone.

Acting as if nothing had happened, she wore a gentle smile and carried a legal document in her hand.

"Ethan, let's talk."

She slid the document across the table.

It was an agreement.

I flipped it open.

"I'll set up a trust for you. Buy you a condo, a car. A monthly allowance. I'll spend three days a week with you."

"Caleb won't interfere with us, and he won't bother you. In return, you sign an NDA and cut all contact with him."

I finished reading, my expression deadpan.

Then, right in front of her, I ripped the agreement in half.

The smile vanished from her face.

"Why are you acting like a child?"

I looked at her, offering no explanation.

There was no point anymore.

Vivian sighed, her tone like she was coaxing a petulant toddler.

"Ethan, can't you be a little more understanding? He is my husband on paper. I can't let things escalate, and I can't afford the fallout."

Can't let things escalate.

Then who was protecting me?

After Vivian stormed off in a huff, my phone started vibrating like crazy.

A friend texted:

“Ethan, have you seen Twitter?”

I clicked the link.

The headline was blinding:

Renowned Designer Ethan Carter Wrecks a Marriage! Betrayed Husband Tearfully Speaks Out.

It featured photos of me, and photos of Vivian and me together.

It detailed Caleb's so-called "tragic ordeal."

At the very end was a copy of a marriage record issued by the City Clerk's Office in New York City.

I zoomed in on the date.

Three years ago.

They had legally married in New York three years ago.

But Vivian and I had been together for eight.

I wasn't a willing secret lover.

I was the one who had been played.

But the internet didn't care about the truth.

The comment section was a bloodbath.

“Shameless homewrecker.”

“Justice for Caleb.”

Overnight, Ethan Carter Design Studio's ratings on Google Reviews, Yelp, and industry platforms tanked to one star.

Partners sent notices terminating our contracts.

Friends kept texting:

“Ethan, is the stuff online true?”

I didn't know how to answer.

I grabbed my jacket and headed straight to Vivian's company.

When she saw me walk into her office, a flash of relief crossed her eyes. She clearly thought I had come to accept her terms.

"Ethan, have you thought it through?"

I shoved my phone in her face.

Her face dropped.

"Ethan, about this..."

"Clear my name. Now."

I stared at her, my voice dangerously low.

Vivian avoided my gaze. She stayed silent for a long time.

"If I clarify this publicly, Caleb will escalate the harassment. My company and my family will go down with me."

"Can't we just handle this privately?"

My voice shook.

"Those posts are trending across every platform. My studio is bleeding out. And you're telling me to handle it privately?"

She slammed her hand on the desk.

"Can't you be a little more mature? He is legally my husband! I can't paint him as the bad guy here!"

Suddenly, all my anger evaporated.

"Vivian, we were together for eight years."

"I proposed to you eight times. You brushed me off with 'just wait a little longer' eight times."

"Now, I'm the one getting crucified online. He's the victim—what about me?"

Her face flushed red. She looked away.

"Why do you have to fixate on this one thing? Haven't I given you enough?"

"Do we really need a piece of paper to prove we love each other?"

So, in her eyes, I was just supposed to shut up and take it.

For eight years, I had loved a woman who treated me like a kept man.

I turned and walked to the door, pausing with my hand on the knob.

"Vivian, we're done."

Her head snapped up.

"And you will clear my name publicly."

"Otherwise, I'll drop the evidence myself and let everyone know exactly what you did. When that happens, you'll lose your company, your reputation, and your entire career."

With that, I walked out. I didn't look back.