Chapter 2

At 6:00 PM, I received a Snapchat from Ethan.

It was a brief line:

[Having dinner with clients tonight. Won't be home.]

I stared at the words. Suddenly, I remembered that he didn't used to be like this.

During our first two years of marriage, he came home every single day.

No matter how busy he was, he would always let me know in advance.

But as his company grew bigger, he came home less and less.

It went from two or three times a week, to once a week.

Now, he only showed up four or five times a month.

He treated our home like a hotel—just coming back to shower, change, sleep, and leave.

I didn't reply.

I worked at a luxury hotel.

Tonight, there was a very important business gala, and I was the lead coordinator.

The entire hotel staff was on high alert.

At 7:30 PM, the lights in the grand ballroom turned on, and guests started entering.

I stood at the entrance, checking the guest list.

Until a familiar voice drifted over.

"See? Didn't I tell you I'd bring you?"

I looked up, and my breath hitched instantly.

It was Ethan.

And standing right next to him was a young, beautiful woman.

She had long, wavy hair, wore a stunning white gown, and had flawless makeup.

She was the woman from the security footage—the one who had helped Ethan pick out the shirt.

Right now, she was clinging to Ethan's arm, her body practically pressed against his.

When Ethan saw me, his expression visibly shifted.

The woman followed his gaze and looked me up and down. Her eyes were filled with blatant contempt.

"Who is this?"

Ethan frowned. "The hotel coordinator."

He said it so casually, as if introducing a complete stranger.

Amber Brooks smiled. "Oh, I see."

"Well, make sure you take good care of us tonight."

She intentionally emphasized the word "us."

I nodded calmly. "Of course."

Halfway through the gala, Amber suddenly waved her hand to call me over.

"Waitress!"

The surrounding managers gasped.

Everyone in the hotel knew I was the lead coordinator.

Yet, she chose to call me that on purpose.

Still, I walked over and asked politely, "How can I help you, ma'am?"

She frowned, looking at the drink in her hand.

"There's way too much ice in this."

"My husband has a weak stomach. He can't drink anything this cold."

She called him "husband" so naturally, so intimately.

I looked at Ethan.

He just sat there, making no effort to correct her.

My heart felt like it had been stabbed with a thousand needles.

I nodded.

"I'll get a replacement for you."

A few minutes later, I returned with a fresh glass.

"Ma'am, here is your new drink."

Just as Amber went to take the glass, her wrist suddenly tilted.

The entire glass of red wine splashed all over me.

The dark red liquid dripped down my white shirt, leaving me in a humiliating mess.

Yet, Amber was the first to scowl. "What is wrong with you? Can't you even hold a glass properly?"