One Percent of Love
"Ethan, I know you feel something for me. You wouldn't have lent me the money or paid my bills otherwise."
"But it's only one percent. Nowhere near what you feel for Vivian."
I reached under my pillow and pulled out a folded stack of paper, the prenuptial agreement he'd drawn up five years ago.
In black and white, it spelled out the deal: Nora completes one hundred of Ethan's demands, and Ethan marries Nora.
I looked at it one last time, then took it by the edges and tore it apart without mercy.
The pieces scattered to the floor like a silent snowfall.