Chapter 3

I didn't bother arguing. I swallowed two fever reducers, took a hot shower, and climbed into bed.

My phone screen suddenly lit up.

It was a WhatsApp message from Hailey.

Along with several high-resolution photos.

*Chloe, I started seeing someone recently and I want to make it Instagram-official! Can you help me pick which photo looks best?*

I didn't open the files. I just typed back: *Why are you asking me?*

*Ethan told me you have amazing aesthetic taste! Plus, I just wanted to clear the air. I have a boyfriend now, so please don't misunderstand my dynamic with Ethan. He only treats me well because we grew up together. We're strictly like brother and sister.*

I clicked on the thumbnails.

It was a series of photos showing two hands intertwined against a luxury hotel sheet.

The man's hand had long, slender fingers. And right on the side of his middle finger was a distinct dark mole.

Identical to my husband's.

Hailey wasn't even trying to hide it anymore.

Every single photo was a deliberate slap in my face, a taunting announcement: *I am sleeping with your husband.*

I didn't reply. I took screenshots, backed them up to my secure cloud drive, and blocked her number.

If Ethan Vance had the guts to cheat, he needed to be ready to pay the price.

The next morning, I woke up early and headed straight to a premier boutique law firm downtown to draft a rock-solid divorce settlement.

Everything Ethan currently owned had been built on my blood, sweat, and health.

Since he was the at-fault party, I didn't intend to leave him a single penny.

After finalizing the initial paperwork with the attorney, I pulled out my old contact list and began reaching out to former business partners.

Although I had stayed home for the past three years, whenever Ethan's company hit a critical bottleneck or lost a lead investor, I was the one who quietly pulled the strings behind the scenes.

I still held the loyalty of over half the company's core network. It was time to reclaim what was mine.

Just as I stepped out of the law office, Ethan called.

His tone was cold and commanding. "Clear your schedule tonight. You're accompanying me to a charity gala."

I almost laughed. Hell must have frozen over.

Ever since Hailey joined the company, she had been his plus-one to every high-profile event, while I was tucked away at home like an embarrassing relic.

This was the first time in years he had invited me.

"I'm busy," I refused flatly.

"Chloe, this isn't a request! It's the annual gala hosted by Harrison Capital. Mr. Harrison personally requested your presence! Don't flatter yourself by playing hard to get."

"Let me make this clear: Harrison Capital holds fifty percent of our active funding. If you ruin this, we'll both end up broke on the street!"

Harrison Capital.

The memory came rushing back. When we first pitched to them years ago, Ethan's startup was an insignificant speck. Mr. Harrison had rejected him outright.

Later that year, I happened to perform CPR on Mr. Harrison's father-in-law during a sudden cardiac arrest at a country club, saving the old man's life. Out of deep gratitude, Mr. Harrison took a gamble and wrote us a five-million-dollar seed check.

That project yielded a massive return, securing Ethan's first major win and cementing his standing in the tech industry.

"Fine. Send me the time and address."

That evening, I took some painkillers and arrived at the venue on time.

The gala was held at an exclusive open-air estate, featuring an indoor ballroom that opened onto an expansive poolside terrace.

Seeing Mr. Harrison standing near the lounge, I walked over with a warm smile and handed him a discreet, beautifully wrapped box.

"Mr. Harrison, it's wonderful to see you again. I know this is a business event, but I couldn't come empty-handed."

I had agreed to come tonight for one reason only: to pave the way for my return to the industry and reclaim my network.

"Chloe! Look at you, still as thoughtful as ever," Mr. Harrison said warmly.

"It's just an organic sleep tincture and herbal blend for Mr. Miller," I explained gently. "He mentioned during our last phone call that his insomnia had been acting up again. It's nothing extravagant, but I thought it might bring him some relief."

In elite social circles, high-end luxury gifts were dime a dozen. Billionaires didn't need another Rolex.

Personalized care for an ailing, beloved family member was worth ten times more.

"I'll make sure he gets it tonight. He'll be thrilled," Mr. Harrison said, clearly touched. He turned to Ethan, who was hovering beside us. "Ethan, you truly married an exceptional woman."

Ethan waved his hand dismissively with a patronizing chuckle. "You're too kind, Mr. Harrison. Chloe doesn't have much to do these days, so she dabbles in home remedies. How could something like this possibly compare to top-tier medical care? It's just a silly gesture."