My family–the Harpers–had been in business for generations, which made us a constant target for criminals looking to cash in.
Six years ago, my mother and I were traveling abroad when we were ambushed. A gang cornered us at gunpoint. One of them pressed the cold muzzle of a pistol against my mother’s
temple.
I screamed until my voice cracked, convinced I was about to watch my mother die.
And then—just when all hope seemed lost–a shot rang out.
The gunman dropped dead.
That’s when I saw him for the first time: Ethan Caldwell, in full military uniform. Tall,
broad–shouldered, gun still smoking in his hand. His movements were swift, precise–lethal.
He didn’t hesitate for a second as he saved both our lives.
Later, riding in a military jeep, I finally got a good look at him. Clean–cut, sharply defined
features, that impossibly straight nose–he was almost too perfect to be real.
I fell for him instantly.
And for the next year, I pursued him relentlessly. Eventually, he gave in, and we started dating.
We were together for five years. And during those years, I followed him blindly, shaped my world around his. I thought loving him unconditionally would be enough.
But in the end, all it got me was betrayal and humiliation.
What a fool I’d been.
The bathroom door creaked open.
Ethan stood in the doorway, eyes landing on me–curled up on the floor, pale and exhausted.
His face tightened in annoyance as he grabbed my arm and pulled me upright.
“It’s just some laundry, Emily. Are you seriously sitting here trying to look pathetic?”
A bitter taste rose in my throat. I forced it down, swallowing hard against the nausea, and turned to look for the one thing I came for–my mother’s keepsake.
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The antique pocket watch was broken into pieces, scattered across the tiles like fallen
memories.
I knelt again, carefully collecting each shard.
Ethan’s voice came from behind me, too calm to be kind.
“Once Jessica is done with postpartum, I’ll marry you. And she’ll move in with us after the
wedding.”
Jessica turned to me with a look of exaggerated gratitude.
“Emily, thank you for being so understanding. It means a lot to me… to us.”
I didn’t respond. I didn’t have the energy for her fake sweetness.
Instead, I turned to Ethan. “Don’t bother. We’re not living together. I’m taking what’s mine. Just give me the door code–I’ll send a moving company for the rest.”
He rattled off the numbers like it was no big deal, then scoffed.
“Go ahead. Make a big scene. You’ll be back like always.”
essica tugged at his sleeve, her voice a timid whisper. “Ethan… the bedroom…”
His expression darkened for just a second before he wrapped an arm around her and followed
me out.
“We’ll come with you. Make sure you don’t take anything you shouldn’t.”
It wasn’t until we got home that I understood why he insisted on coming.
The living room was littered with lingerie and sex toys–clear evidence of their little
escapades. A box of scented candles sat on the dining table. The bedroom reeked of perfume
and lust. Handcuffs were attached to both the headboard and footboard.
While I was handling my mother’s memorial service alone, they’d turned our home into their
personal playground.
I walked into the closet and found my jewelry dumped on the floor. Several Hermès bags were missing from the shelf.
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Jessica followed close behind, that smug little smile creeping onto her face.
“Looking for something, Emily?”
She couldn’t wait to see me lose it.
Too bad for her, I didn’t give her the satisfaction.
“Stealing from someone you replaced? Very on–brand for a mistress.”
“You-!”
Fury flashed in her eyes. Then, like flipping a switch, she clutched her belly and let out a dramatic gasp, collapsing to the ground.
Emily, I’m still in postpartum recovery! How could you hit me…”
Ethan rushed in and scooped her up, eyes blazing. Without a second thought, he slapped me
hard across the face.
“You’ve been living like a princess for too long, Emily. It’s time someone knocked you down.”
The hit landed square across my cheek. Pain exploded in my skull, and my face instantly began
to swell.
My vision blurred. I was seething.
“I didn’t touch her!”
But he didn’t care. He grabbed me by the arm and shoved me out of the closet.
“Get out. Go back to the Harper house. Come back when you learn how to behave.”
The fury inside me twisted into something colder–rage laced with shame.
I turned back around and slapped Jessica across the face. Hard.
A sharp crack echoed through the room.
Ethan’s arm shot up again, but I met his eyes, steady and unflinching.
“That,” I said coldly, “was the one I actually meant.
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Then I walked out.
Tears stung my eyes, but I refused to let them fall–not in front of them.
The moment I stepped outside, rain poured down like punishment from the sky, I collapsed onto the curb, soaked and trembling, my sobs barely audible over the storm.
I didn’t know how long I sat there.
But after a while, I realized something–my shoulders were no longer getting wet.
I looked up.
Nathan stood above me, holding an umbrella.
I hadn’t even noticed him arrive.
But there he was.
Silent.
Steady.
And shielding me from the storm.
