Chapter 3

The next morning, I woke up to the delicious aroma of breakfast drifting through the air.

Sunlight poured in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, filling the room with warmth.

I stretched lazily, feeling refreshed from head to toe.

Honestly, it was the best sleep I'd had in years.

No more trying so hard to please a guy who never cared about me, no more having to watch out for a fake friend who smiled sweetly but stabbed me in the back.

Damn, this felt freaking awesome.

After changing, I headed downstairs. Ethan was already seated at the dining table, dressed in a soft gray loungewear set.

The sharp edges he wore in the boardroom were softened, lending him a more approachable air.

He was reading the newspaper, the morning light sculpting his profile into a picture of serene perfection.

If I could just ignore the awkward vibe between us, honestly, it was a sight for sore eyes.

"Morning," Ethan said, not even looking up from his paper.

"Yeah," I replied, pulling out a chair and sitting down across from him.

The table was laden with a lavish spread.

I picked up a warm croissant and took a bite, closing my eyes in bliss. "Delicious."

Ethan set the paper down and looked at me. "You never used to eat these."

I froze mid-bite. Damn it. I'd forgotten about the amnesia.

Quickly putting the croissant down, I arranged my features into an expression of confused innocence. "Really? But I think it's wonderful."

He studied me for a long moment, a silent, knowing intensity in his gaze that made my heart skip.

Without another word, he pushed a glass of milk toward me. "Take your time. Don't choke."

There was something in his eyes—a flicker of understanding—that left me unnerved.

After breakfast, as I was contemplating the day's plans for my "revenge scheme," the doorbell rang.

A maid answered, and soon, the last face I wanted to see appeared in the doorway—Alex.

He looked haggard, with dark circles under his bloodshot eyes, stubble shadowing his jaw, and his suit rumpled.

The moment he saw me, his eyes lit up, and he tried to push forward. "Grace!"

Two bodyguards promptly blocked his path. "Mr. Stone, you cannot enter without Mr. Lewis' permission."

Alex was fuming, practically ready to blow a gasket.

"Move aside! I'm here for Grace—she's my fiancée!" Alex barked, his voice cracking with frustration.

I hid behind Ethan, poking my head out just enough to spy on the drama.

The show was about to begin.

Ethan casually wiped his mouth, took his time standing up, and sauntered over to the door.

He stood half a head taller than Alex, looking down with such cold authority that Alex practically wilted under his gaze.

"Mr. Stone, disturbing people's peace so early in the morning is rather inconsiderate," Ethan said lazily, his tone cold and mocking.

"Ethan! Cut the bullshit! What did you do to Grace? Why does she have amnesia? Was this your doing?" Alex shouted, his eyes bloodshot, looking like a bull about to charge.

Ethan let out a low chuckle, but there was no warmth in his eyes.

"You should know better than anyone why she lost her memory. I heard she took a tumble down the stairs at your place, didn't she?" Ethan said, his voice icy.

Alex's face went ghostly pale in an instant.

"You... you're talking nonsense!" he stammered, his voice trembling.

"Whether I'm lying or not, the police will get to the bottom of it. I've already reported you. We'll see what the investigation turns up," Ethan said, his voice icy and full of authority.

He filed a report? I glanced up at Ethan, startled. Was he serious?

Alex was clearly freaking out, his bravado instantly crumbling.

Alex clearly panicked, his bluster deflating. "You... you have no right! This is a private matter!"

"It's my matter now. Grace is my wife. She got hurt at your place, and I have every right to get to the bottom of this," Ethan retorted, his tone icy and unyielding.

As he spoke, he pulled me in front of him, his arm slipping around my shoulders in a move that looked both intimate and natural.

"Sweetheart, do you still recognize him?" Ethan asked, his voice soft and gentle.

I shook my head, leaning into him, my voice trembling on cue. "No... I'm scared, Ethan. Can we ask him to leave?"

My performance of fragile vulnerability seemed to please Ethan immensely.

He leaned down and pressed a light kiss to my forehead. "Of course. Whatever you wish."

Then he lifted his gaze, his eyes turning to ice. "Mr. Stone, my wife doesn't wish to see you. Please leave. Immediately, or I will have security escort you out."

Alex stared at our display of "marital affection," shaking with fury.

He pointed a trembling finger at me. "Grace! You shameless woman! I was blind to have ever loved you! All those years we shared, and you just forget? Just like that? You'll regret this! This isn't over!"

He stormed off, his curses fading down the driveway.

Watching his retreating figure, I felt nothing but cold emptiness.

All those years? How dare he?

If he had truly cared, he wouldn't have stood by while Olivia pushed me down those stairs.

If there had been any real feeling, he wouldn't have been wrapped around another woman while I lay unconscious.

"Stop looking. It's not worth getting upset over someone like that." Ethan's voice pulled me back to reality.

I looked up at him, meeting his piercing gaze.

"Why are you helping me? Aren't we just in a business marriage?" I couldn't help but ask, my confusion spilling out despite myself.

Ethan fell silent. His arm around me tightened almost imperceptibly.

A long moment passed before he spoke, his voice low and measured.

"Because I'm a businessman, too. I paid for you. My possessions—even if I choose to discard them, even if I break them—are not for others to touch."

His words were cold and cutting, slicing through me like a blade aimed straight for the heart.

To him, I was nothing more than a thing—a tool, a convenience.

Of course. What had I been expecting?

That my rival, of all people, could ever care for me?

I told myself to stop having foolish ideas.

This was never about affection, only mutual use.

I lowered my head, trying to hide the disappointment in my eyes, and forced a smile that was more painful than a grimace.

"Oh. So that's how it is. Alright. I understand," I said, my voice dull.