The Price of His Affair: Groveling For My ForgivenessChapter 3

I quickly grabbed the calendar back and closed it. "Nothing, just spacing out."

He seemed surprised by my calmness, then suddenly remembered something:

"You should really try to break that spacing-out habit. Last time, you almost got hit by a car."

He was talking about that time in college. I was agonizing over a clothing design, lost in thought, and wandered off the sidewalk into traffic.

In that terrifying moment, he was the one who pulled me back.

I treated him to dinner to thank him, and one thing led to another, sparking our relationship.

Knowing he'd misinterpreted my current state, I didn't explain, just gave a noncommittal nod.

Lost in the memory of our college romance, a rare smile appeared on Ethan's usually stern face:

"Alright, don't sulk alone. Come see this, I know you'll love it."

He led me downstairs and snapped his fingers.

Several housekeepers wheeled out an exquisite, luxurious wedding dress.

"Chloe, you will be my most beautiful bride."

"About what happened with Sophia earlier... I'm sorry I lost my temper with you. This dress is my apology. I promise I'll give you the grandest wedding ever."

Ethan declared this publicly, professing his feelings in front of everyone.

The housekeepers beside us practically swooned with envy.

My expression remained flat.

"Put it in the closet."

Seeing my lack of enthusiasm, his face darkened slightly:

"You don't have to keep picking fights with Sophia. You were partly wrong in this too."

"Mom obviously isn't dead. You lied to us, saying that urn was hers. If Mom heard you, she'd definitely scold you too."

I almost laughed out loud in bitterness.

He still didn't believe my mom was dead?

If he had even an ounce of trust in my words, a simple call to the hospital would confirm it.

But he treated Sophia's words like gospel.

I was truly talking to a brick wall.

I scoffed coldly, "I did nothing wrong."

Ethan's face contorted, finding me utterly unreasonable:

"So you think Sophia and I are deliberately trying to make trouble for you?"

"What else?" I replied flatly.

"You're unbelievable!"

Ethan slammed the door with a deafening crack and stormed out, furious.

I knew where he was going. Back to Sophia.

Sure enough, Sophia immediately started bombarding me with photos and videos, flaunting their time together.

I simply blocked her number and went to sleep.

The next day, having few relatives or friends left, I arranged a simple funeral service for Mom.

I notified Ethan, wanting some closure, a final conversation before cutting ties completely.

His reply was simple: "Okay."

But the service was almost over, and he never showed up. Instead, Sophia arrived, followed by a group of rough-looking thugs.

Sophia saw the surprise in my eyes and smirked.

"What, surprised to see me?"

Seeing their aggressive stance, I sensed trouble. "Why did you bring these people here?"

"To trash the place, of course! Go on, smash it all!"

At her command, the thugs stormed into Mom's memorial setup, smashing everything in sight.

Countless flowers were scattered, wreaths trampled, even Mom's portrait was shattered. Chaos reigned.

"Stop! Don't touch anything! One more move and I'm calling the cops!"

I shielded the urn with my body, shoving them away furiously, screaming until my voice was raw.

Their fists and makeshift clubs rained down on me. My head bleeding, pain overwhelming me, I collapsed.

Sophia grabbed my hair, yanking my head back, forcing me to look at her.

"That old bitch mother of yours. If she didn't die, was she just going to keep leeching off Ethan?"

"Ethan says you're just a boring housewife. He's tired of you, can't get rid of you, so I had to help him out."

A housewife? Is that how Ethan described me to her?

Before we were engaged, I was a well-known fashion designer.

It was only after his business took off that he begged me to quit my demanding job, saying he didn't want me running back and forth, exhausted, that he would take care of me.

But now, my mother and I were just burdens in his eyes.

Fine.

I really was leaving.

But I wasn't going to let her get away with this.

Seeing me dazed, Sophia sneered dismissively, then turned to the thugs:

"Throw her in the coffin, nail it shut with her mom—"

Before she could finish, I grabbed a sharp piece of broken wood from the floor and stabbed it hard into her shoulder. Then, I lunged, wrapping my hands fiercely around her neck.

A desperate counterattack!

Sophia let out a bloodcurdling scream, cut short as my grip tightened.

The thugs froze, startled, about to move.

I snarled viciously, "Get lost! All of you! Or I snap her neck right now, and you won't get paid a dime!"

Sophia shook her head frantically, pleading with them for help, but the thugs scattered and ran. Relief washed over me.

I released my grip, shoving Sophia to the ground.

Before I could react, a stinging slap landed hard across my face.

My head snapped sideways, ears ringing, as I heard Ethan's furious roar:

"Chloe, how dare you provoke Sophia again? Did you think my warnings were just hot air?"

My eyes, blazing red, fixed on Ethan. "She was going to bury me alive!"

Ethan seemed momentarily flustered by my shout, turning to look at Sophia.

Sophia clung to him like a lifeline, sobbing pitifully:

"Ethan, I was just joking! But sister took it seriously, she tried to kill me!"

He pulled Sophia protectively into his arms, then turned on me, his voice harsh, as if I'd committed some heinous crime.

"She's sick, Chloe! She was just joking with you! How could you take it seriously and attack her?"

This same transparent act had played out countless times. And yet, Ethan still blindly believed Sophia every single time.

Tired of his lectures, I stated numbly, "Ethan. This is the last time."

Seeing the utter coldness in my expression, Ethan felt a jolt of fear, a sense that he was losing something vital.

Noticing the injuries covering my head, he loosened his hold on Sophia. "Forget it. Let me take you to the hospital first."

He reached for me, but Sophia suddenly clutched her back, crying out:

"It hurts, it hurts so bad! Ethan, my shoulder! Sister stabbed me right through! I'm going to die from the pain!"

Seeing the blood soaking through Sophia's clothes, Ethan panicked. Any concern for me instantly evaporated.

He scooped Sophia up and ran towards the door, tossing back one sentence:

"I'm taking her to the hospital first. Call yourself an ambulance. Text me when you get there, I'll come meet you."

I watched his figure disappear through the main entrance. Then I called 911 myself and was eventually loaded onto the ambulance.

Just as the ambulance pulled up to the hospital entrance.

My phone buzzed with an anonymous text:

"I won't let him come get you."

Immediately after, Ethan's call came through:

"Sophia's injury is too serious, she needs someone with her. I can't pick you up right now. Later, I'll definitely find time to check on you later, I promise!"

I could hear Sophia's coquettish voice in the background before Ethan abruptly hung up. He never asked about me again.

So I was alone. Surgery, paying bills, recovering, staring blankly.

During that time, Ethan never visited me once. But I'd occasionally catch glimpses of the two of them, acting lovey-dovey, in various corners of the hospital.

What a perfect couple.

I contacted a real estate agent and put the house up for sale.

This was the house Ethan bought with the first big profit he made after starting his business with Mom's money.

That was when Ethan loved me the most. The deed was solely in my name.

I thought we would build a happy home there.

I never imagined I'd be the one selling it off in the end.

I signed the contracts quickly, finalizing the transfer. The agent assured me they would handle the moving arrangements completely.

Only then did I leave.

Back home, the housekeeper presented me with the 99th wedding dress Ethan had sent.

I hung it on the last empty hanger in the closet.

After paying the staff their final wages and letting them go, I circled the date on the calendar, marking the final number: 99.

In the blank space on the calendar page, I wrote my farewell letter to Ethan.

"Family gone, debt repaid. Ethan, we're done."

I placed Mom's death certificate and the calendar page together on the coffee table.

Then, I picked up my suitcase, went to the airport, chose a random flight, checked in, and boarded.

As the plane soared into the sky, an exhausted Ethan finally returned home.

The villa was eerily silent. Confused, he tried calling me.

His eyes fell on the note on the coffee table. Just as he reached for it, the cold, robotic voice came through his phone:

"Sorry, the number you have dialed is not reachable..."

And the next second, he saw my mother's death certificate.

As if realizing something, his hand trembled as he snatched up the calendar page. When he saw the large, stark words written there...

Ethan's pupils constricted instantly.