Chapter 4

His fingers dug into my arm. The one that wasn't fractured.

"Let go of me, Ethan." My voice was low, devoid of the tremor I felt inside.

"We are not getting a divorce, Ava. This is just a phase. You're upset about Chloe. It's nothing."

"Nothing?" I pulled my arm free. "You offered to divorce me for her, Ethan. I heard you."

His face tightened. He looked, for a fleeting second, like a man caught off guard.

Then the mask slammed back into place.

"You were eavesdropping." Accusation, not apology.

"It doesn't matter how I heard it. It matters that you said it."

He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture of frustration I knew well.

"Fine. I was trying to be considerate of her feelings. It didn't mean anything."

"It meant everything to me."

He sighed, the sound heavy with impatience. "Ava, we've been married for ten years. You can't just throw that away because you're feeling insecure."

He tried a different tactic, his voice softening, the one he used when he wanted to placate a difficult client.

"Look, I know I've been... preoccupied. Work has been insane. But this thing with Chloe is just... she's a good assistant. I was protecting her."

"And what about me, Ethan? Who protects me?"

He stared at me, a muscle working in his jaw. "This is pointless. You're emotional. We'll talk about this when you've calmed down."

"I am calm," I said. "And I'm serious."

He let out an exasperated breath. "My mother's Thanksgiving dinner is next week. You will be there. We will present a united front. After that, if you still want to indulge this fantasy, we can discuss it."

It wasn't a request. It was an order.

His mother, Eleanor Cole, despised me. She'd made no secret of her belief that I was a gold-digger, far beneath her son. Attending her Thanksgiving was an annual exercise in humiliation.

"I'm not going," I said.

Ethan's eyes narrowed. "You will be there, Ava. Don't make this more unpleasant than it needs to be."

He turned and left the room, leaving me with my half-packed suitcase and a heart full of cold dread.

Thanksgiving at the Cole estate in Connecticut was always an ordeal.

The sprawling, ostentatiously grand house felt cold, despite the roaring fireplaces.

Eleanor greeted me with a kiss that didn't touch my cheek and a critical once-over.

"Ava, dear. That dress is... rather simple, isn't it?"

Chloe Davis was there. Of course, she was. Ethan had insisted she come, claiming she had no family nearby and it was the least he could do.

She looked radiant in a cashmere sweater dress that probably cost more than my entire outfit. She was helping Eleanor in the kitchen, laughing easily, already part of the family.

During dinner, the tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. Ethan played the part of the attentive husband, occasionally placing a hand on my arm, a gesture that felt more like a brand than affection.

After the meal, as coffee was being served in the formal living room, it happened.

Eleanor brought out her prized possession: a delicate, antique Meissen porcelain figurine, a shepherdess her grandmother had brought from Germany.

She placed it on the mantelpiece.

Chloe was standing nearby, admiring it. "It's exquisite, Mrs. Cole."

"Isn't it? A true heirloom."

As Chloe turned, her elbow somehow connected with the shepherdess. It teetered, then crashed to the marble hearth, shattering into a dozen pieces.

A collective gasp went through the room.

Chloe's hand flew to her mouth, her eyes wide with horror. "Oh my goodness! Mrs. Cole, I am so, so sorry!"

Tears welled in her eyes.

Eleanor looked like she was about to faint.

Then Chloe looked directly at me, her expression shifting subtly. "Ava, you were standing right behind me... did you bump into me?"

My blood ran cold. I hadn't been anywhere near her. I was across the room, talking to Ethan's aunt.

Before I could speak, Ethan was at Chloe's side, his arm around her shoulders.

"It was an accident, Mother," he said, his voice firm, protective. He didn't even look at me.

Eleanor, however, turned her furious gaze on me. "Ava! How could you be so clumsy? This was irreplaceable!"

"I didn't touch her," I said, my voice shaking slightly. "I was over there."

Chloe started to cry softly. "I... I just turned, and then... maybe it was my fault. I'm so clumsy."

Ethan squeezed her shoulder. "It's not your fault, Chloe." He looked at me, his eyes like chips of ice. "Ava, apologize to my mother. And to Chloe."

I stared at him, incredulous. "Apologize? For something I didn't do?"

"Don't be difficult, Ava," he said, his voice low and dangerous. He took a step towards me, his hand clenching. For a horrifying second, I thought he might actually strike me. He grabbed my arm, his fingers biting into my flesh, right over the barely healed fracture.

Pain, sharp and blinding, shot up my arm. I cried out.

He didn't let go. "You are embarrassing me. And yourself."

Eleanor was watching, her face a mask of triumph. "She always was a clumsy, ungrateful girl."

That was it. The final straw.

I yanked my arm free, cradling it against my chest.

"You know what, Ethan?" I said, my voice trembling with a mixture of pain and rage. "You're right. I am embarrassing myself. By staying married to a man who believes a liar over his own wife. A man who would humiliate me in front of his family to protect his... assistant."

I looked at Eleanor, then at Chloe, whose tears had miraculously dried.

"Enjoy your Thanksgiving," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'm done."

I turned and walked out of the room, out of the house, into the cold November air. I didn't look back.