Chapter 4

Vivian steadied herself and immediately switched to a wounded expression, throwing herself at Ethan.

"Ethan! This crazy woman came out of nowhere and started screaming at me -- and then she hit me!"

Ethan went rigid. His eyes bounced between me and Vivian. Beads of sweat appeared on his forehead in real time.

"Ethan, get security to throw her out!" Vivian tugged at his sleeve, her voice syrupy.

Ethan sucked in a slow breath, forced down the panic behind his eyes, and pushed Vivian away.

"Vivian, take Noah to the parking garage and wait for me."

Vivian froze. "Ethan?"

"Go. Now." Ethan's voice cracked like a whip, leaving no room for argument.

She flinched. Shot me one last suspicious look. Then clenched her jaw, picked up the boy, and walked out.

The door slammed shut behind her.

Just the two of us now.

The silence was total. Dead.

Ethan looked at me. His throat moved. The panic bled out of his face, replaced by a look of weary resignation -- the expression of a man burdened by circumstances beyond his control.

He came toward me, reaching for my hand.

"Lily. When did you get here? You should've texted me."

I stepped back. Kept my eyes on him, cold and steady.

"If I hadn't come, how would I have known that you've got a wife and a five-year-old son on the side?"

Ethan sighed. Pressed two fingers to his temple. His tone took on that familiar flavor -- patient, indulgent, the way you'd humor someone being unreasonable.

"Lily, calm down. Let me explain."

"Her name is Vivian Cole. She was placed here by one of our major financial backers. You know how it is -- we're in the most capital-intensive phase of our Phase Three trials. There's an overseas investment group willing to fund us, but they require one of their representatives embedded in the core management structure."

He held my gaze. Every word came out perfectly sincere.

"To secure the funding, I had to play along. The boy was adopted -- purely for optics. We needed the image of a stable, family-oriented man so the investors would feel confident putting money in."

I stared at his familiar face and felt a sudden, nauseating wave of revulsion rise in my stomach.

There was a time when all it took was that look -- weary eyes, quiet devotion -- and I would soften. I would hand over every last dollar in my account without hesitation.

"Playing along?" I let out a short, flat laugh. "Playing along means buying her a limited-edition designer gown? Playing along means buying her a pink diamond ring? Playing along means taking the name of my dead child -- and giving it to someone else's son?"

Ethan's expression flickered.

But he recovered quickly.

"Lily, those things were provided by the investors. I didn't buy any of it. As for the name -- that was a coincidence. Vivian insisted on it, and I had no choice but to go along for the sake of the bigger picture."

He stepped closer and gripped both my shoulders, his eyes pouring out a depth of feeling that should have been impossible to fake.

"Lily, trust me. Everything I'm doing is for us. Once this drug hits the market, once I've made it -- I'll announce to the entire world that you, Lily Johnson, are the only woman I have ever married."

"Just give me a little more time. Please."

I looked at him and said nothing.

If I hadn't watched him kiss Vivian on that stage with the look of a man who had everything he'd ever wanted --

If I hadn't seen that boy's face, and recognized Ethan's features in every line of it --

I might have believed him again.

"Sure," I said. The corners of my mouth pulled up into something that looked more like a wound than a smile.

Ethan visibly exhaled with relief.

"I knew it. You've always been the most understanding woman I know." He moved to pull me into a hug.

I put a hand against his chest and stepped back.

"I'm tired. I'm going home."

I turned, opened the door, and walked out without looking back.

Behind me, he didn't follow.

He probably assumed this was like every other time over the past seven years -- that a few carefully chosen words had smoothed everything over.

He didn't know that the moment I turned away, the last of my tears had already dried.

What was left wasn't grief.

It was the cold, bone-deep resolve of someone who has decided to burn it all down.