Chapter 3

Late at night, Ethan rushed in carrying the cool night air with him.

When he saw me sitting on the living room couch, he visibly relaxed.

He changed his shoes and walked over, holding out a paper bag with an upbeat tone, looking like he wanted praise.

"Here, weren't you begging for this shop's chestnut cake a few days ago? I drove all the way out to get it. Still warm."

That shop was in the old district, at least forty kilometers round trip from our current apartment.

As he spoke, like he'd done countless times before, he tried to pull me into his embrace.

I stood up, using the motion of placing the chestnut cake on the coffee table to bend down and dodge his descending arm and intimacy.

My throat tightened. I forced out a smile.

"Let's save it for later. I don't have much appetite right now."

Ethan's arm paused in mid-air, then withdrew as if nothing had happened.

He looked me over, his expression unchanged, treating it like I was just throwing a tantrum. Without much concern, he turned toward the bathroom.

"Fine, eat it when you're hungry. I'm going to take a shower."

The water started running.

Just then, his phone screen lit up on the couch where he'd casually tossed it.

Like I was possessed, I picked up his phone.

No password. I'd always known that, but I'd never thought to check before.

The screen lit up, jumping straight to a message thread with Selene.

A photo filled the view.

An extremely exquisite and elaborate cream cake.

The logo on the cake box was from the same shop as the chestnut cake he'd just brought me.

Below it was a line of text.

"The cake is so delicious! Thank you for the recommendation, Ethan~ Being able to eat such amazing dessert before my checkup makes my leg hurt less [cute emoji]"

So that was it.

My supposedly special treat that required a forty-kilometer round trip was just table scraps he'd tossed my way while carefully selecting a cake for someone else.

My heart felt like it had been dunked in a glass of iced lemon water, sour and bitter, clenching painfully.

Ethan emerged from the shower, his hair still dripping, wearing only a towel around his waist.

He approached with humid warmth, trying to embrace me again.

I pushed him away like I'd been electrocuted, scrambling for the clumsiest excuse.

"Don't... I'm on my period. Not feeling well."

The warmth on Ethan's face quickly drained away, replaced by extreme impatience and coldness.

He roughly grabbed his wet hair, his eyes rolling with suppressed rage and irritation.

"Aria Greenwood."

He called me by my full name, his voice cold and hard.

"Do you have to be this relentless and aggressive?"

He raised his voice, as if accusing me of being unreasonable.

"I don't understand. Why do you insist on scheduling our ceremony right when Selene has her checkup? What difference does a day earlier or later make? Did I say I wouldn't complete the marking ceremony with you? Are you really so desperate that you have to throw tantrums over this?"

Each word was like a dull blade, stabbing viciously into my heart.

He remembered everything.

He remembered the promise he'd made at my mother's bedside, remembered that agreement about my twenty-fifth birthday.

But he didn't care.

Just like he didn't care that Selene was my half-sister, didn't care that that woman and her mother's appearance had indirectly driven my mother to her death. He only thought I was being unreasonable, that I was misdirecting my anger.

My heart ached to numbness. I lost all strength to argue, just stood there silently with lowered eyes.

My silence seemed to enrage him further.

He stared at me, his chest heaving violently several times, before finally letting out a cold laugh.

"Fine, you're really something now!"

He spun around, grabbed his jacket and car keys from the couch, and slammed the door as he left.

"BANG—"

The massive sound echoed through the apartment, making my eardrums ring.

I silently watched that door still trembling slightly, watching his resolute departing figure, and suddenly thought of that passionate, spirited young man from before.

When we were at our poorest, we shared a tiny basement apartment together.

He spent his days seeking investors to help build his pack territory, and his nights working odd jobs as a guard for other packs.

On my birthday, he worked three all-nighters to earn four hundred dollars, just to buy me a cake.

Back then, Ethan really, truly loved me.

Every glance, every word was filled with love for me.

I'd seen what it looked like when he loved me.

So his hesitation and wavering now, I could spot it immediately.

Not long after he left, my phone buzzed.

A text from an unknown number appeared on the screen, but I recognized that tone instantly.

The photo showed a dimly lit corner of a bar.

Ethan was drinking with his head tilted back, his profile sharp and cold. In one corner of the photo, you could vaguely see a slender hand with nude-colored nail polish resting on his jacket.

"Aria, Ethan seems really unhappy. Looks like you made him angry again. Don't worry, I'll comfort him properly. Want to guess if he'll come back to you this time?"

"Everything you have—Dad, the family home, and Ethan—will all eventually be mine. You'll never beat me."

My fingers trembled, barely able to hold the phone. It took enormous effort to type out a reply, word by word.

"Is that so? Too bad the trash I don't want is only treasured by someone like you, so thrilled to pick up my garbage."