Chapter 3

My eyes must have shown real resistance, not just an act, because Ethan paused for a moment, looking confused.

But irritation quickly took over. "Aria, stop throwing a tantrum."

I didn't like how he always used that tone with me. Even his face that I'd crushed on for years was starting to lose its appeal.

"I'm your wife, right? I attempt suicide and end up in the hospital, but you don't even ask if I'm okay. Now you're just criticizing me. Ethan, what gives you the right to treat me like this?"

My anger seemed to ignite his own. He gripped my wrist tightly, his tone icy. "Because you brought this all on yourself."

His grip was too strong, right on the wound from my suicide attempt.

I winced in pain but held back any sound. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I saw my own pitiful reflection in Ethan's gaze, on the verge of crying.

Ethan suddenly let go, turning me away from him and holding me from behind. His voice was cold:

"I'll let it go this time, but don't ever fake a suicide attempt to threaten me again."

I struggled a bit, but Ethan held me even tighter, clearly not wanting to let me argue. The difference in our strength was too great. After a few futile attempts to break free, I gave up.

When I woke up the next morning, Ethan was already gone.

I threw on some clothes and went downstairs to find him already eating breakfast at the table.

The housekeeper greeted me. "Good morning, Miss Aria."

I stood there motionless. Ethan didn't even look up. "Come eat breakfast."

Though it was just breakfast, the spread was impressive enough to make me gape.

I couldn't help thinking, no wonder they call it high society. Even breakfast is such a production.

I sat down across from Ethan. The housekeeper brought me a bowl of sago pudding. Smelling mango, I frowned. "Why is there mango?"

The housekeeper explained: "This is Miss Olivia's special recipe, sent over by her. It's her favorite, made with mangoes flown in from Europe..."

I immediately lost my appetite. "I'm not eating."

The clinking of silver utensils on porcelain rang out. Ethan looked up at me, his voice cool. "Aria, that's enough."

I held back my anger. "Is not eating mango offensive to you too?"

"You're not eating it just because Olivia sent it, right?"

Ethan's face was cold. "Aria, when will you rein in your jealousy?"

Me?

I'm jealous of Olivia?

I don't know how the 25-year-old Aria acted in front of Ethan, but I imagine it was a pitiful, petty image.

But no matter what, we're husband and wife. Does he not even know I'm allergic to mango?

I was about to speak when the housekeeper suddenly said: "Sir, Miss Olivia is here!"

A gentle voice rang out: "Ethan, am I interrupting?"

A slender figure walked in from the doorway.

The housekeeper and maids all greeted her familiarly. It was clear she was a frequent visitor.

One glance and I knew this woman was Olivia.

I noticed how the housekeeper addressed us. I was the lawful Mrs. Sinclair, yet he called me "Miss Aria," while calling her "Miss Olivia."

The difference in closeness was obvious.

No wonder the 25-year-old me was so hostile towards Olivia. As Ethan's lawfully wedded wife, I still couldn't compare to his blatant favoritism towards another woman. Anyone's mental state would crumble.

Olivia looked at me with concern. "Aria, I heard you cut your wrists... Are you alright now?"

I snorted dismissively, not bothering to be polite.

I don't know how the 25-year-old me acted in front of them. Perhaps very meekly, perhaps willing to swallow my pride because I loved Ethan so much—

But right now, I'm the 18-year-old me.

I don't love Ethan at all.

So I have no reason to hold my tongue.

Olivia turned to Ethan, looking troubled. "Ethan, I'm sorry. Aria doesn't seem to want to see me. Maybe I shouldn't have come..."

"You knew that and still came?" I said bluntly. "Did you come to gloat?"

Olivia's face instantly flushed red. Ethan coldly rebuked me, "Aria, stop being unreasonable."

He was clearly defending Olivia. My impression of him sank even further.

Originally, waking up to find I was married to my crush had made me a bit excited and grateful—

But now I see, Ethan isn't all that great.

So what if he's handsome and rich? Treating his own wife like dirt doesn't make him look good.

If he's so great, why did he marry me in the first place?

I was indignant, but Olivia remained gracious and calm. "Ethan, the reason I came today was to specially invite you to my celebration party..."

As she finished speaking, she seemed to suddenly remember I was standing right there. She couldn't very well not invite me, so she reluctantly said to me: "Aria, why don't you come too?"

I had originally planned to refuse.

But seeing the barely concealed disdain and challenge in Olivia's eyes, I suddenly smirked and agreed. "Sure, I am Mrs. Sinclair after all. I should accompany Ethan to social events."