Chapter 4

Ethan must have sensed that he was losing me.

Before dawn the next day, he went to a high-end jeweler on Fifth Avenue and bought a stunning array of diamond necklaces and bracelets.

The butler cautiously approached him while he was sorting through the jewelry.

"Mr. Vance... yesterday was Mrs. Vance's birthday. The cake you ordered last week was delivered to her room last night. She... she asked us to throw it away."

Ethan went completely rigid.

He had forgotten my birthday.

Panic flared in his chest. When he saw me walking down the stairs, he rushed over, his eyes filled with desperate apology.

"Aria, I am so incredibly sorry. Things at the office were chaotic yesterday, and it slipped my mind. I've booked the rooftop terrace at the penthouse restaurant tonight. Let me make it up to you."

Looking at the genuine guilt in his eyes, my mind flashed back to the boy who used to follow me around Boston, looking at me as if I were his entire world.

Against my better judgment, my heart softened just a fraction.

I gave a quiet nod. "Okay."

That evening, he took me to the exclusive rooftop restaurant overlooking the harbor.

Throughout the dinner, he was incredibly attentive. He cut my steak, draped his suit jacket over my shoulders, and kept his eyes locked on me.

Just like the old days.

But when I took a sip of a cocktail and winced at the sourness, he instinctively reached into his pocket and pulled out a hard candy.

It was a sour plum candy. Clara’s favorite.

I detested sour flavors.

Seeing that I didn't reach for it, Ethan looked down at his hand, clearing his throat awkwardly.

"Clara gets nauseous from her medication sometimes. I... I just keep them on me."

I nodded quietly, but my heart felt like it was encased in ice.

There was a time when his pockets were only ever filled with the lemon drops I loved.

His friends used to tease him about carrying candy in his bespoke suits, and he would always smile and say, "My wife likes them."

Now, the lemon drops were gone.

Before the main course was finished, Clara’s private nurse burst through the restaurant doors, crying hysterically.

"Mr. Vance! It's Miss Clara! She’s coughing up blood. She says she won't make it through the night... she's begging to see you one last time!"

Ethan’s face went white. He stood up so fast his chair scraped loudly against the floor.

I stood up too, gesturing for the waiter to bring my coat.

"Ethan, wait."

Ethan’s expression hardened, his voice sharp and defensive. "Aria, this is a matter of life and death! Don't you dare try to stop me!"

"I'm not stopping you."

I slipped my arms into my coat. "She's sick. As your wife, I should be concerned too. I'm coming with you."

Ethan turned, surprised to see me already dressed to leave.

Realizing how harsh he had just sounded, he looked slightly uncomfortable.

But I didn't look at him again.

***

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