Chapter 2

Ethan came home at ten the next morning.

By then, Lily's fever had broken. She was asleep against me, worn out and sticky, her little rabbit blanket tucked under her chin.

The sink was full of bottles. A damp baby blanket sat forgotten in the washer. Fever patch wrappers and half a pack of wipes covered the living room floor.

The front door opened.

Ethan walked in carrying two paper bags like he'd just returned from battle with proof of victory.

"I brought breakfast," he said, setting one bag on the counter. He lifted the other. "More fever patches, children's vitamins, and that bunny toy Lily likes."

He looked almost proud of himself.

Then he touched Lily's forehead and turned to me.

"You look exhausted. I'm sorry, okay? Last night was crazy."

Right.

Classic Ethan.

He always apologized after the worst part was over.

He bought medicine. He said sorry. He threw in a soft little you must be so tired, babe, like that erased the fact that he hadn't been there when I actually needed him.

I opened the breakfast bag.

An iced Americano.

An almond croissant.

I stared at the coffee for a few seconds.

"I can't drink iced coffee. My stomach's been messed up since Lily was born."

Ethan blinked. Then he gave me an awkward little smile.

"Right. Sorry. I probably mixed it up."

He paused.

"Vanessa drinks this before meetings."

The room went very quiet.

I shifted Lily higher on my shoulder and said, "The hospital had Vanessa listed as Lily's secondary contact."

Ethan's expression changed.

Not guilt.

Annoyance.

"What's wrong with that? She lives close to the school. If you can't reach me, having one more person who can help is a good thing."

"You didn't ask me."

"Because I knew you'd overthink it." He frowned. "Mia, she's my business partner. Stop acting like every woman around me is a threat."

I looked at him.

"I want a divorce."

For one second, Ethan said nothing.

Then he laughed.

Not because it was funny.

Because he thought I was being ridiculous.

"Mia, stop. You haven't slept all night. You're emotional."

"I'm serious."

"Of course you think you're serious right now." He rubbed his forehead. "But where are you going to go with a toddler? Back into consulting? Come on. You've been out of work for three years."

There it was.

I had left consulting because my pregnancy turned high-risk. Because Lily had reflux, then eczema, then ear infections, then nights where she screamed until sunrise. I had stepped back from client calls, contracts, strategy models, all of it, one tiny sacrifice at a time.

And in Ethan's mind, all of that had become one clean little sentence.

You've been out of work for three years.

My phone rang.

Ethan's mother, Linda.

He answered and put her on speaker, because apparently I needed a second judge.

"Ethan told me Lily had a fever," Linda said. "Mia, you need to calm down. Children get sick. Ethan is building a company. He can't drop everything every time you panic."

I closed my eyes.

She kept going.

"When I was your age, I raised two kids and worked part-time. Women today call everything trauma."

Ethan didn't stop her.

If anything, he looked relieved.

Finally. Someone had said the quiet part for him.

The call ended.

Two minutes later, Vanessa texted me.

Mia, I heard Lily is better. I'm relieved.

Then another message.

Please don't make Ethan feel guilty. He was under unbelievable pressure last night. He kept saying you're strong and he trusts you more than anyone with Lily.

And then:

I hope you don't take this the wrong way. I'm only his business partner. It's just... sometimes he talks to me because I understand that side of him.

I read the messages twice.

Vanessa didn't need my ring.

She had something better.

I got the fever, the bottles, the bills, and the screaming baby at three in the morning.

She got his jacket, his investors, and the part of him that needed to be understood.

Lucky me.

Ethan saw her name on my screen and his face hardened.

"She's being kind. Don't twist it."

I almost explained.

Then I stopped.

Explaining things to Ethan was like apologizing to a wall. Exhausting. Pointless. And it made me look stupid.

That night, after Ethan went to sleep in the guest room, I sat at the kitchen table and opened my laptop.

There it was.

A folder I hadn't opened in three years.

Northline Original Model.

The first business model for Ethan's company. Written before the investors. Before the press. Before Vanessa learned how to smile beside him like she had built the whole thing herself.

It was also the last real piece of work I had created before I walked away from my own career.

I called Noah.

This time, my voice was steady.

"Noah, do you still have the original Northline equity agreement and model ownership documents?"

Silence for two seconds.

Then he said, "Of course."

I gripped the phone tighter.

Noah's voice dropped.

"Mia, I've been waiting three years for this call."