003 - The Kiss That Changed Everything

SCARLETT

"Sign it, Scarlett."

Ethan stood in the doorway of our bedroom holding a single sheet of paper and a pen.

His voice was calm, almost bored, like he was asking me to sign a credit card receipt.

I stared at my reflection in the full-length mirror.

The black dress hugged my body perfectly—expensive silk, low back, the kind that turned heads.

The diamond necklace and earrings we'd bought that afternoon caught the light and sparkled coldly.

I looked elegant. Polished. Like the perfect wife he wanted to show off.

But the woman in the mirror felt like a stranger.

Hollow eyes.

Tight smile that didn't reach anywhere real. I didn't recognize myself anymore.

Ethan stepped closer. "You look good. They'll all be jealous."

I didn't answer.

He held the paper out. "Open marriage agreement. Simple. We both get what we need. You keep the life. I get children. Everyone wins."

My stomach twisted. "I never agreed to this."

"You will." He tapped the pen against the paper.

"Because you love your mother more than you hate me. Sign it, and nothing changes for her. Refuse, and I make one call. That's all it takes."

I felt the room shrink. The air got thick. My hand shook as I took the pen.

I hated him in that moment—hated the man I'd married, hated the way he'd turned my mother's life into a bargaining chip.

But more than that, I hated how powerless I felt.

I signed.

My name looked small and broken on the line.

I handed the paper back without looking at him.

Tears wanted to come, but I swallowed them down.

I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry again.

"Good girl," he said quietly. "Now let's go. The car's waiting."

The drive to the hotel was silent. I stared out the window at the city lights, feeling numb.

When we pulled up to the grand entrance, Ethan handed me a black velvet mask.

"Theme of the night," he said. "Put it on."

I tied it behind my head without a word.

The mask covered half my face—mysterious, elegant, hiding the storm underneath.

He offered his arm. "Hook yours through mine. And no drama tonight. Smile. Be charming. That's all I ask."

I slipped my arm through his. My skin crawled at the contact.

The ballroom was breathtaking.

Crystal chandeliers, gold accents, waiters gliding with champagne flutes.

Everyone wore masks—some feathered, some jeweled.

Laughter and soft music filled the air.

Elites everywhere, just like Ethan wanted.

Power. Money. Connections.

He led me straight to a group of his colleagues.

"Gentlemen, this is my wife, Scarlett."

I forced a smile. Shook hands. Said all the right things.

"Lovely to meet you."

"The party is wonderful."

Inside, my chest felt tight, like someone was squeezing.

Then she appeared.

A tall brunette in a deep red gown, mask glittering with crystals.

She moved with confidence, sliding right up beside Ethan.

His hand went to her waist immediately—casual, possessive, like it belonged there.

"Scarlett," he said smoothly, "this is Lila. She's Mark's secretary. Lila, my wife."

Lila smiled sweetly and extended her hand.

"Pleasure to meet you, Scarlett. Ethan speaks so highly of you."

Her handshake was firm. Her perfume was sweet and expensive. I felt sick.

They talked easily—work jokes, inside stories. Ethan's hand never left her waist.

Every time he laughed at something she said, my stomach turned.

I couldn't breathe properly.

"Excuse me," I said quietly. "I need the restroom."

Ethan glanced at me. "Don't be long."

I walked away fast, heels clicking on marble. The mask felt suffocating now.

I pushed through the crowd to the ladies' room, locked myself in a stall, and ripped the mask off.

I splashed cold water on my face, hands shaking.

The paper I'd signed burned in my mind.

I'd just agreed to this—to him touching other women, to him building a family with someone else while I stayed trapped.

All to keep my mother alive.

I stared at my reflection. Mascara smudged. Eyes red. I looked broken.

I couldn't go back out there. Not yet.

But I had to.

I fixed my makeup as best I could, tied the mask back on, and stepped out.

The ballroom felt louder now, more crowded.

I scanned for Ethan—tall, dark suit, familiar posture. He wasn't with the group anymore.

I walked through the room, heart pounding.

Past laughing couples, past clinking glasses, past masks that hid who-knows-what secrets.

My eyes landed on a dim corner near the back.

A heavy velvet curtain half-covered a doorway.

Hidden room?

I shouldn't have gone closer.

But my feet moved anyway.

As I got nearer, I heard voices. Low. Intimate.

A man's laugh—Ethan's laugh.

Then a woman's soft moan.

Lila.

My blood turned to ice.

The door was cracked open just enough.

I froze.

Through the gap I saw them—Ethan pressing Lila against the wall, her dress hiked up, his mouth on her neck.

Her fingers in his hair. The same hands that used to hold mine now gripping her hips.

I turned to run.

And crashed straight into a man.

Wine splashed across his white shirt.

"Oh God—I'm so sorry," I gasped.

He steadied me with strong hands on my arms.

Tall. Broad shoulders. Black mask covering most of his face, only his sharp jaw and intense eyes visible. Dark hair. Expensive suit.

"No harm done," he said. His voice was deep, calm, almost amused.

Behind me, the door opened wider.

Ethan and Lila stepped out—clothes straightened, but her lipstick smudged, his tie loose.

They hadn't seen me yet.

Panic surged.

I didn't think.

I grabbed the stranger's face with both hands and kissed him.

Hard.

Desperate.

My lips crashed against his like I was drowning and he was air.

For a split second he froze.

Then his hands came up—one at my waist, one at the back of my neck—and he kissed me back.

Not gentle.

Not hesitant.

Deep. Hungry. Like he'd been waiting for this.

His mouth moved against mine with a confidence that made my knees weak.

One hand slid lower, pressing me closer. Heat exploded through me—sharp, unexpected, terrifying.

I tasted whiskey on his tongue. Felt the hard line of his body against mine.

Ethan's voice cut through the haze.

"Scarlett?"

I pulled back fast, breathing hard.

The stranger's eyes locked on mine—dark, curious, unreadable.

Ethan stood a few feet away, Lila beside him, both staring.

"What the hell?" Ethan said.

I wiped my mouth. My lipstick was on the stranger's lips now.

"I—" I started, but nothing came out.

The stranger smiled—slow, dangerous. "She was just saying hello."

His voice carried. Smooth. Confident.

Ethan stepped forward, face darkening. "Who are you?"

The man didn't answer right away.

He looked at me again—really looked—like he was seeing past the mask, past the panic, straight into the mess inside me.

Then he turned to Ethan.

"Someone who knows how to treat a woman," he said simply.

Ethan's jaw clenched.

Lila touched his arm. "Ethan, let's not—"

But Ethan shook her off. "Scarlett, we're leaving. Now."

I didn't move.

The stranger stepped slightly in front of me—not blocking, just… there.

"She doesn't look like she wants to go anywhere with you," he said.

Ethan laughed—short, angry. "She's my wife."

The stranger glanced at me again. "Is she?"

I felt the weight of his question.

Was I?

After the agreement. After what I'd just seen. After everything.

My voice came out small but steady. "I need a minute."

Ethan's eyes narrowed. "You don't get minutes. You get in the car."

The stranger chuckled low. "She just did."

Ethan took a step toward us.

Security appeared—two men in black suits, discreet but firm.

"Everything okay here?" one asked.

The stranger raised a hand. "All good. Just a misunderstanding."

He looked at me one last time. "If you need anything…" He slipped a card into my palm without Ethan seeing. "Call."

Then he walked away—calm, unhurried, disappearing into the crowd.

Ethan grabbed my wrist. "We're done here."