Chapter 3@@@

Late at night, a fire crackled in the villa's fireplace, the living room so quiet only the popping of wood could be heard.

I reclined on the sofa browsing an art magazine while Ethan Carter showered upstairs, humming a cheerful tune, the sound of water seeping through the door crack.

His phone lay quietly on the coffee table when the screen suddenly lit up with an urgent vibration.

I instinctively looked up. The caller ID showed a name—Mila Scott.

My fingertips paused.

My breathing became barely audible.

I reached out and answered.

"Darling, are you coming tonight?"

On the other end, Mila's voice was low and suggestive, with a lazy laugh, as if she were lying on some soft bed.

My breath caught, my chest feeling like it had been stabbed by a needle.

"I'm waiting for you at our usual place. You promised me."

She spoke so naturally, so confidently, as if that were the relationship that mattered.

And I was the one who was superfluous.

I didn't speak, but my palms turned cold.

Until she murmured in confusion: "Why aren't you saying anything?"

Only then did I decisively hang up and place the phone back on the coffee table exactly as it was.

My fingers were ice-cold, but my heart was colder still.

She even used French, assuming I wouldn't understand—clearly they'd made arrangements long ago.

They were certain that even if I accidentally answered the phone, I wouldn't understand what they were saying.

The water upstairs continued running. Ethan was still humming, cheerful and content.

While my heart grew colder, inch by inch.

A few minutes later, he came downstairs, hair still dripping, wearing loungewear, looking as gentle as a considerate partner.

"Why aren't you asleep yet?"

He approached, smiling broadly. "Waiting for me?"

I looked up, lips curved in a faint smile: "Sort of."

He bent down and kissed my forehead, then walked to the kitchen: "I'll make you some warm milk. You haven't been sleeping well lately—you need more calcium."

Moments later, he returned with the milk, handing it to me, his tone impeccably gentle.

"Thank you."

I accepted it, cradling the cup in both hands, lowering my eyes to blow on it gently.

The warm vapor brushed my face but couldn't dispel the chill in my chest.

He sat beside me as if nothing had happened, his eyes full of adoration:

"Vivian, you know I've always wanted your happiness."

I glanced at him, my gaze calm, without excess emotion.

Yes, he always played the perfect fiancé, deceiving everyone willingly.

But unfortunately.

I had heard the truth with my own ears.

"Someone called you."

I pointed at the phone on the table.

"I answered it."

His expression flickered with panic for an instant, then he quickly straightened up.

"Work matter. I need to return the call, darling."

He was in such a hurry that he didn't hear my footsteps following behind him.

He closed the door. Through the crack he'd failed to shut completely, I faintly heard the conversation.

"I'm coming to you. You've set me on fire."

"You insatiable temptress. Wait for me to properly punish you."

The door was suddenly pulled open.

Seeing me standing outside, Ethan panicked for a second before smiling calmly at me again.

"Something came up at the company. I need to head over quickly."

"Okay, drive safely."

I smiled gently as always, while my heart bled.

As night deepened, I lay with eyes open, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep.

Ethan's words replayed in my mind over and over:

"Wait for me to properly punish you."

Mila's voice, the suggestive tone, her confident trust in him—it all corroded my blood like poison.

I rose from bed, walked to the desk, opened my journal, and wrote a new entry under the cold lamplight:

"Phone call. Caller: Mila Scott. Language: French. Content: Date suggestion. Witness: Me."

The handwriting was cold and hard, like testimony.

After finishing, I slowly set down the pen and looked out at the night sky.

The darkness was deep, only the distant moon hanging coldly.

"Ding."

A message notification interrupted my thoughts. I looked down and saw messages from Mila Scott, my blood running backward.

She'd sent several photos: Ethan's hand on her chest, Ethan's bare back, and even...

I didn't look further.

There was also a voice message: "Damn, you're going to kill me. How are you so good at seduction?"

"You drive me crazier than Vivian ever has."

In that moment, my heart died completely—he'd never shown me these sides.

He was gentlemanly and tender. We'd never even been intimate. I thought it was respect.

In truth, he saved this excitement for someone else.

Tears silently streamed down my face.

This engagement didn't need to continue.

I dialed a number. The moment it connected, I spoke immediately.

"I agree to come home. Help me process the visa."

They agreed quickly.

After hanging up, my eyes were ice-cold.

In one week, I would completely leave this place. Leave Ethan.