The remote nearly shattered in Ethan's grip as the TV screen replayed the moment over and over — Emily, radiant under the flashing cameras, her hand at Dylan Ward's hip, her voice clear as glass.
"Yes… Dylan's my love."
His jaw tightened. The words echoed in his head, each replay stoking the fire in his chest.
From the corner of the room, Sarah crossed her legs, smirking like she'd been waiting for this moment. "Wow… slow down there, junior. It's your fault she's with some guy you hate."
Ethan's head snapped toward her. "What?"
"You heard me," Sarah said, her tone dripping with mock innocence. "You were too hard on her. You pushed her away. Now she's in the arms of Dylan Ward."
His pride flared hot, the words spilling out before he could stop them. "It's not my fault. She's not even my wife — why should I care?"
Sarah's smirk deepened. "Mm-hm. Keep telling yourself that."
But Ethan turned back to the TV, unwilling to let her see that her jab had landed. He wasn't going to admit anything — not to Sarah, not to anyone. His pride was his armor, and he wore it like steel.
The next morning, Ethan buried himself in work, though his mind refused to let go of Emily. He could still picture the way she used to act — stubborn, childish, unpredictable — the way she'd barge into his office just to argue over the smallest things.
A knock sounded at his door. He looked up, expecting an assistant. Instead, the last person he imagined stood there.
"Vanessa," he said slowly, the name tasting strange on his tongue.
She smiled, and it was the same smile he remembered from years ago — bright, full of warmth, and far too confident. She wasn't alone. Behind her stood her parents, faces glowing with approval.
Ethan rose from his chair, his heartbeat unexpectedly quickening. Vanessa had been his childhood love, the one he'd never dared to pursue seriously. For a fleeting second, a thought flashed in his mind — Is this my way to get Emily back?
But before he could even process it, Vanessa's father spoke with a firm, almost celebratory tone.
"We're here to finalize the arrangement," he said. "It's time for you to marry Vanessa."
Ethan's breath stilled. The room seemed to shrink around him. He had been thinking about using her… but now it was clear.
He was the one being trapped.
Ethan's chair screeched against the marble floor as he stood abruptly, the air in the room tightening like a drawn bow.
"Get out of my room. Now."
The words cracked through the air like a whip.
Vanessa's smile froze. Her parents exchanged startled glances, clearly not prepared for the sudden storm in his voice.
"I already married a woman," Ethan continued, his tone like cold steel. "She's busy in her career. I'll introduce her to the world when the time is right. So please, Vanessa… marry someone worthy of you. Because I never liked you as anything beyond your imagination."
The blow landed harder than he expected.
Tears welled in Vanessa's eyes, slipping silently down her cheeks. She didn't move. Didn't speak. She just stood there — frozen, fragile — until her father's firm hand gripped her arm.
"Come," he muttered, dragging her toward the door. Her mother followed in stiff silence, her heels clicking sharply against the floor. The scene looked less like a polite exit and more like someone being pulled from a locked cellar, unwilling to step away.
When the door shut, Sarah appeared in the doorway, arms crossed. She glanced at Ethan, then turned to the retreating family.
"I apologize for his behavior," she said smoothly, her voice carrying an undertone that was hard to read. "But… he does have a wife. So please, for all our sakes, don't disturb us again."
The words echoed in the hall as Vanessa's sobs faded down the corridor.
Inside the room, Ethan sat back at his desk, his face unreadable — but the grip on his pen was tight enough to snap it in two.
"Emily is mine. She could love a million men, but she will have only one husband — and without a doubt, that is me."