When I walked out of the station, Noah came running toward me so fast he nearly crashed into the security desk.
His hair was messy. His hoodie was inside out. He looked like he’d gone mad.
He grabbed my face in both hands. “Where were you? I went to your company, your apartment, everywhere. No one would tell me anything.”
Then he pulled me against him so tightly I almost lost my breath.
“I thought you left me,” he whispered. “I thought you were gone.”
I should have melted.
Instead, I shoved him back.
“Don’t touch me.”
He blinked, stunned. “What?”
“I said don’t touch me.”
His face fell so fast I had to look away.
“What did I do?”
“Nothing,” I said. “That’s the problem. This is my problem.”
He stepped toward me again, voice shaking now. “You can’t just throw me away.”
I forced myself to meet his eyes.
“Every time I see you,” I said, “I think of her.”
He went completely still.
My voice stayed cold even while my chest was being ripped open from the inside. “Your stepsister slept with my husband. She got pregnant. She stole my work. She wants to destroy my reputation. When I look at you, I remember her. And it disgusts me.”
His hands dropped to his sides.
Something in his eyes broke.
I turned and walked away before I could see more.
Behind me, people started shouting.
I heard someone yell for an ambulance.
I heard that sick, terrible wave of noise that only happens when a body hits the ground.
My steps slowed.
Then stopped.
My heart hurt so badly I could barely breathe.
I didn’t even realize I was crying until someone grabbed my wrist.
I spun around.
Ethan.
His face was thunder-black.
He followed my line of sight to where paramedics were wheeling Noah out on a stretcher.
Then he dragged me into the nearest restroom and slammed the door shut.
“Who is he?” he hissed.
I leaned weakly against the sink. “None of your business.”
“I’m your husband.”
“You stopped acting like one a long time ago.”
His whole face twisted. “How long have you been seeing him?”
I laughed. Actually laughed. “Why? You can cheat, but I can’t move on?”
His breathing went rough.
“Did you sleep with him?”
I looked him dead in the eye. “Whatever you did with Lila, I’ve done with him.”
That was enough.
He lost control.
He shoved me back against the sink hard enough to rattle the mirror. His hands gripped my shoulders, not careful, not loving, not sane.
I shoved him with everything I had.
“Get off me.”
“You want affection from another man that badly?” he said through his teeth. “Fine. I can give you everything.”
The way he said it made my skin crawl.
I fought harder. “Ethan, let go.”
He bent his head against my neck, breathing hard, unraveling in real time, and I realized with a burst of sick clarity that he wasn’t hearing me at all.
So I said the only thing I knew would stop him.
“If you touch me, I’ll never forgive you. Ever.”
He froze.
Then slowly lifted his head.
Water blasted over us a second later.
He’d grabbed the sink hose and turned it on, soaking us both.
I gasped at the freezing cold.
He clutched me against him, shaking. “Then I’ll wash it off,” he muttered. “I’ll clean myself up. I won’t be dirty anymore.”
The stall door banged open.
Lila stood there, pale and trembling, staring at us.
“Ethan… what are you doing?”
His arms loosened instantly.
“Sophia, listen—”
He went after her.
Of course he did.
I stood there drenched, half my blouse torn, trying to cover myself with ruined fabric and what little dignity I had left.
That was the day our marriage stopped being tragic.
It became disgusting.
After that, Ethan came to me again and again.
Said we were even now.
Said he wouldn’t fight the perfume issue too hard.
Said we didn’t need to divorce.
Said he could compromise.
All he wanted was my consent to keep Lila “outside.”
Outside.
Like she was a pet he planned to maintain in another house.
I hired a lawyer.
He told me what I already suspected: if Ethan refused to cooperate, a contested divorce would drag on forever, and I still might not recover what he owed me.
Meanwhile, rumors were everywhere.
That I stole my subordinate’s work.
That I bullied a pregnant woman.
That I drove my husband’s side piece to miscarriage.
They wanted me humiliated.
Fine.
Then I would wait until they were standing on the tallest stage possible.
And push.