Chapter 3

She went dead silent.

A few seconds passed before she spoke again.

The sweet, patronizing tone was entirely gone.

"Ethan Vance, stop playing games."

She took a sharp breath. "Marriage is a life event, not a tool for you to throw tantrums."

"Labor Day weekend."

I gave her the exact date.

"The venue and the caterers are already confirmed."

She let out a cold scoff. "Did your dad pressure you again today? Is he really that desperate? He doesn't even care that our house isn't finished?"

"Ethan, grow up. Stop letting your family run your life. We are the ones living in that house—"

"Chloe, let me make this clear," I interrupted. "The invitations are going out tomorrow. This is happening. I’m not asking for your permission. I’m letting you know."

I could hear her breathing getting heavier on the other end.

"Who do you think you're talking to, Ethan? Did I give you too much leeway? You think you can force me into this? This just proves you’re an insecure, controlling jerk!"

"I am trying to build our perfect home. Any flaw is a desecration of that dream, and it ruins Julian’s entire design!"

"Are you really that desperate for a stupid ceremony?"

Her words cut like ice.

In the past, accusations like this would make me anxious. I would have rushed to explain myself and apologize.

But right now, I felt absolutely nothing.

Sure, the designer’s "inspiration" was sacred.

More importantly, Chloe was the only one who understood Julian's art, and Julian only had Chloe as his client.

Their late-night brainstorming sessions, their weekend trips to museums, and their "material sourcing" trips abroad...

All that was left for me, the fiancé, was an endless pile of bills.

I met the silence on the other end of the line and admitted it.

"Yes. My parents are getting old. I want to start my family now."