Chapter 4

I shook my stinging hand, the sharp pain grounding me as I walked to an unassuming corner of the floral stage. There, I picked up Ethan’s plain, seemingly ordinary briefcase.

The live broadcast of this entire debacle was still rolling.

Ethan didn’t understand what I was doing.

Instead, he hurried after me, his face swollen red from the slap but still managing to look concerned.

“Willow, does your hand hurt?” he asked, his tone soft and full of worry.

“If I’ve upset you, just tell me,” he continued, his voice trembling with sincerity. “Honestly, if one slap makes you feel better, it’s worth it.”

Even now, he kept up his act.

But in the next moment, I unzipped his briefcase. Guided by the memory of Lydia’s smug boasts, I found the hidden compartment.

Inside, just as she’d described, I pulled out dozens of folded letters.

And then I turned to face Ethan.

The change in his expression was instant. His ever-gentle, composed mask cracked, his features twisting into something stiff and unnatural.

He reached out instinctively, his hand moving toward mine, desperate to snatch the letters away.

I sidestepped, and with a single look, my security team stepped forward, forming a wall between us. They pushed Ethan back, keeping him out of reach.

Calmly, I unfolded the first letter, holding it up for everyone to see.

And then, I read it aloud.

“‘Sunny today. I saw you having breakfast with that tramp again. You even took out the trash for her. Ethan, you’re so much better than that. You’re a king, so why lower yourself to be with someone like her? You belong with me.’”

The crowd gasped.

This was one of Lydia Wright’s so-called love letters.

I moved on to the next one. My voice rang clear, cutting through the silence.

“‘Ethan, it’s been 1,000 days since I fell in love with you. I dreamed about you again last night. Don’t think it’s improper—how could it be, when it’s you? Please, leave that worthless woman and come to me.’”

The words were raw, obsessive, every sentence dripping with malice toward me and longing for Ethan.

By the tenth letter, the tone had shifted.

“‘Ethan, you kissed me today. I couldn’t believe it. Even if you didn’t say you love me, I’ll take it as a sign that you do.’”

The truth was unraveling before everyone’s eyes.

Lydia had once bragged to me about their college affair, about how they’d been inseparable. And now, as I read these letters, the puzzle pieces fell into place.

The signs had always been there.

I had just been too blind in my so-called love to see them.

Lydia, unable to hold back anymore, lunged toward me like a wild animal, her hand outstretched to grab the letters. But the crowd recoiled from her, parting like the sea, leaving her isolated and exposed.

Ethan’s face had gone pale, his lips pressed into a thin line.

I flipped to the back of one of the letters, revealing more incriminating words scrawled in Ethan’s handwriting.

“‘Day one with Lydia. For the first time, I feel like I understand what love is. Lydia, wait for me. I’ll take down the Quinn family and the Linwood family. The countdown to marrying you has begun.’”

The crowd gasped again, louder this time.

I didn’t stop. I read the next one.

“‘Lydia, I drugged Willow today. She’ll never be able to have my child. Don’t worry—her body isn’t worthy of carrying my bloodline.’”

Even now, my nerves, dulled by hatred and determination, trembled with cold fury.

I let the stack of letters fall from my hands, scattering them at Ethan’s feet.

The crowd whispered in disbelief.

I stared at him, my voice icy and sharp. “Well, Ethan? Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

Ethan’s eyes locked on mine, wide with shock and disbelief. For the first time, his mask of calm was completely shattered.

“Willow,” he stammered, his voice cracking. “It’s not what it looks like.”

He stepped forward, his expression carefully shifting into one of pain and remorse.

“Please, believe me,” he said, his voice low and shaky. “It’s really not what you think.”

He paused dramatically, taking a deep breath. “I admit it,” he said, his voice trembling just enough to sound sincere.

“I made a mistake—a mistake that any man could make.”

The crowd murmured again, some buying into his act, others still horrified by the letters.

“I don’t love her,” Ethan continued, casting a quick glance at Lydia, whose face was now beet-red with humiliation. “She pursued me relentlessly, and I… I was weak. I gave in. But it didn’t mean anything—it never did.”

The man who once told me he loved Lydia more than life itself, the man who spent years plotting his rise to power for her, now discarded her in the face of public scrutiny.

She was nothing more than collateral damage to him.

“It was her,” Ethan said, his voice growing firmer. “She seduced me.”