The moment the bathroom door clicked shut, his phone lit up. The screen displayed Anna Lane’s profile picture, which was a plate of cookies.
Ironically, I had made those cookies for Ethan last Christmas as a handmade gift after he begged me to. He must have given them to Anna as a gesture, and she used them as her profile photo.
Nausea rolled through me as I read Anna’s next text message.
[Mr. West, I’m so touched that you’re taking me to Bali for a little getaway. Do you want me to wear the Officer Bunny outfit? Maybe it’ll look even better on a mom-to-be.]
I nearly vomited in disgust.
I expressionlessly locked the phone and set it down. Ethan seemed to realize he had left his phone outside and emerged hastily to grab it.
Holding it tightly, he shot me a sharp glare.
“Why haven’t you packed my things yet? Don’t forget snacks and entertainment; I don’t want to be bored. Oh, and pack a box of condoms. You never know what might happen outdoors. It’s for my safety. You understand that, right?”
I stared coldly at Ethan’s shameless face. Snacks and entertainment? Those were clearly for Anna.
As for the condoms… Was he planning some wild fling in the outdoors with her and expecting me to prepare for it?
My entire body tingled with anger, which was made worse by my lingering fever.
I stood up shakily, stumbled to the bedroom, and slammed the door shut. Ignoring Ethan’s shouting, I pulled the covers over myself and tried to sleep.
Outside, Ethan smashed a glass against the floor in a fit of rage. He kicked the door and cursed, “What’s wrong with you? You’re twenty-seven and still throwing childish tantrums? All this just because I was too busy to answer a few phone calls?”
I squeezed my eyes shut as tears streamed down my face.
How laughable. He still thought I was angry about him ignoring my calls.
Ethan continued swearing outside for a while but eventually quieted down, probably distracted by flirtatious messages from Anna.
The next morning, he dressed sharply in a suit and had a huge smile on his face, likely still basking in the sweetness of his late-night conversation with her. He seemed to have completely forgotten about me.
I, on the other hand, had an important meeting involving a 40-million-dollar project. I could have driven myself, but my Mercedes was still missing.
Ethan had borrowed it recently, saying Anna’s family had an emergency and could not find a car in time. He reassured me that Anna, as his secretary, was trustworthy.
I had agreed.
A week later, I overheard from others that Ethan had taken my Mercedes to Anna’s class reunion to make an impression. Anna, trying to show off, got drunk and crashed it.
When I confronted Ethan about it, he just called me petty.
“You could afford ten Rolls-Royces if you wanted. What’s a little accident with a Mercedes? Anna didn’t do it on purpose,” he had said casually. “Besides, didn’t I send it in for repairs? I’ll get it back to you soon.”
I had not seen my car, even up until this moment.
As Ethan rushed to leave, I swallowed my frustration and grabbed his arm, forcing myself to speak. “Wait. I have a meeting about a forty-million-dollar project today. I overslept because I’m still sick, and I don’t have my car. Can you give me a ride?”
