Chapter 2

Back then, Ethan was full of swagger, strutting around like he'd just turned from rags to riches—anyone could see that proud sparkle in his eyes.

He looked down at me and gave a low chuckle.

He said, "If I marry Sophia, I'll rake in tens of millions. But you? What do you have to offer me?"

I wasn't done having my fun yet, so my tone naturally came out sharp and probing.

"So, when did it start between you two?" I demanded.

Ethan dropped the act—no more pretending.

"Three months ago," he replied, voice cold.

Betrayal was something I could never forgive. Before I knew it, my hand flew up and slapped him hard across the face.

"Get out!" I yelled, my voice trembling with rage.

Far from getting mad, Ethan looked almost thrilled by the slap.

He seized my hand, eyes blazing with naked hunger.

He said, "Give me three years. Just three. Once I've bled her dad dry, I'll come back and make you my wife."

Hearing him say that didn't make me feel flattered at all.

I didn't believe he'd put himself on the line just to pave the way for me—what I felt, mostly, was a chill of dread.

I realized that if I'd let my true identity slip from the beginning, I'd be the one he bled dry and tossed aside without a second thought.

After that, Ethan went back to playing the perfect live-in son-in-law, while I slipped right back into my spoiled heiress routine.

But every so often, he'd still hit me up with a message.

He never tired of saying the same thing, swearing to every god in sight that—even when he ended up with someone else—I was the only one he'd ever love.

Ethan was the textbook example of a sensitive soul back in those days.

His father, Grant, was gambling-crazed. His mom, Lydia, had completely lost it, and Ethan himself was just a broken soul.

Back then, I was totally head over heels for Ethan. But even when Grant practically dragged Lydia in by the arm to shake Ethan down for cash right in front of me, I didn't bat an eye.

Grant spat out every filthy word he could think of, just to squeeze some cash out of Ethan. Ethan looked like he might just fall to pieces.

I couldn't stand seeing Ethan so broken, so I slipped Grant some money on the sly—just begged them to leave Ethan alone and let him live his life in peace.

They kept quiet for a while after pocketing the cash, but as soon as they blew through it, they came crawling back for more.

The insults came flying at Ethan again, but this time, Grant turned his venom on me.

Grant sneered, "You could cough up the cash before—what, ran out? If you're broke, why not just go sell yourself?"

Ethan's eyes were wild with rage, his voice cracking as he screamed at Grant to get the hell out.

I kept Ethan from losing it, tossed Grant a credit card, and called my bodyguard just to let him know I wasn't messing around.

"This is the last dime you're getting. Try harassing him again, and I swear I'll make sure you never walk right again," I threatened, cold as ice.

Grant actually looked rattled, and after that, he didn't dare show up ever again.

I was seriously on edge, worried Ethan might start catching on to my real background.

After all the chaos wrapped up, my bodyguard kept up the act—slipping into his usual thick accent and throwing some words of comfort my way.

He said, "Little girl, next time that loser comes sniffing around, I'll set him straight. Don't stress about the money—it's not urgent. Just pay me back whenever you're flush."

Ethan's hot tears fell onto my shoulder, burning with everything he couldn't say.

He said, "No one's ever been this good to me before, Charlotte. I promise—I won't ever let you down."

I really did believe Ethan loved me—no doubt about it.

He once confessed right to my face, saying I was the one who saved him from himself.

But what truly drew me to him was that clear, honest innocence. The moment he started climbing that ladder—chasing money and hungry for power—every feeling I'd had for him simply died.

I'd never tried to dig up any news about Ethan—not once. Never expected I'd cross paths with him in this bar of all places.

My wandering thoughts snapped back as Ethan passed me a glass of soda water.

He gazed at the stage, eyes shadowed and deep, lost in his own world.

He murmured, "Three years ago, you loved to sit here with your soda water, just watching me. "

Maybe he thought I missed him or was still hung up on the past.

The idea sent the morning sickness I'd been fighting to keep down surging up again. I scowled at Ethan, not bothering to hide how miserable I felt.

Ethan looked me up and down, and for a split second, there was almost something like pity in his eyes. He then handed me a card.

He said, "Go buy whatever you want. Don't let me see you in these cheap clothes again.

"I told you I'd make sure you lived well."

Here I was, dressed head-to-toe in custom-made, high-end designer wear—and he had the nerve to call it cheap?

I had to stifle a laugh; still, it was impossible not to notice how every inch of his outfit screamed flashy logos.

It was a textbook example of his whole nouveau-riche persona.

I didn't know whether to be furious or just laugh.

I said, "Get over yourself. It's just the kid in my belly wanting soda."

Ethan looked at me, as if he found my words especially amusing.

With a teasing grin, he reached over and gave my waist a little squeeze, messing with me.

He said, "Better start dieting for real before the wedding."

I shoved his hand away, finally losing all control as my rage broke loose.

I snatched up my soda water and hurled it straight into his face.

I snapped, "Don't you dare say that to me again. Three years ago, you were nothing but a game to me. When it was over, we should've cut each other off—clean and simple. As for now, all I feel for you is disgust."

Maybe it was all that wild living, but Ethan's face—pretty damn attractive back then—now had a sickly hue, and he looked completely run-down no matter how cool he tried to play it.

Ethan's face darkened, obvious annoyance simmering in his eyes.

He snarled, "Charlotte, look what I've become. I could have anyone now, but I still bother to come to find you—out of respect for what we once had. Don't pretend you can't recognize a good thing when it's staring you in the face."