I pushed the heavy lobby door open, clutching the thick manila envelope against my chest.
Inside were the finalized Apex Athletics contracts. I had spent the entire afternoon fighting their legal team, securing full commercial rights and a massive upfront bonus. Ethan would never have to fake a romance for a paycheck again. I had secured a true champion’s stage for him.
I rode the elevator up to our floor, a genuine smile forming on my lips for the first time in days.
The hallway was entirely silent. I pulled my keys from my purse, stepping lightly on the carpeted floor.
I reached our apartment, but my key never made it to the lock.
The front door was cracked open an inch. A thin sliver of warm yellow light spilled into the dim corridor.
I reached out to push it shut, assuming Ethan had just been careless after a long practice.
A wet, heavy slapping sound echoed from the living room.
My fingers froze inches from the wood.
"Fuck, Sophie," Ethan grunted. His voice was raw, echoing loudly through the open gap. "Right there."
"Harder, Ethan," Sophie whined. "Fuck my pussy harder. Don't stop."
"I'm going to tear you apart," he growled.
The envelope in my arms suddenly felt like a block of lead. My stomach plummeted, twisting into sharp, agonizing knots.
"Fuck," Ethan panted. "Wrap your legs around my waist. Let me get deeper."
"Yes, fuck me deep," Sophie cried out. "Pound it. God, Ethan, you feel so fucking good."
I stood perfectly still in the hallway. The world tilted violently on its axis.
Through the narrow crack in the door, I saw the reflection in the hallway mirror. Ethan had Sophie pinned against the leather sofa. The same sofa I had bought with my first commission check. His hands gripped her bare hips, driving into her with relentless force.
"I want to fuck you all night," Ethan groaned, the slapping sound growing faster, sharper.
"Then do it," she gasped. "Fuck me until I scream."
I pressed my palm flat against the cold doorframe to keep myself from collapsing. My throat closed up.
The violent rhythm inside slowed to a steady, heavy thud.
"What if Aurora finds out about our relationship?" Sophie asked, her voice breathless and teasing.
Ethan didn't miss a single beat. He kept thrusting.
"She won't," Ethan replied. His tone lacked a single ounce of guilt. "Even if she does, she won't leave me."
"You sound pretty confident," she giggled.
"She wouldn't survive without me," he stated impatiently. "She is completely dependent."
My nails dug into the painted wood. The sheer arrogance in his voice sliced through my chest like a razor.
"But don't you feel sorry for her?" Sophie murmured, her voice dropping lower. "You know, because of the fire?"
Ethan let out a harsh, cruel sneer. The sound of it made my blood run ice cold.
"Saving her once and being pestered by her for ten years is enough," he spat.
"You're terrible," Sophie laughed.
"I'm just being realistic," he shot back. The skin-on-skin slapping resumed. "A person with a scarred face and an injured leg? Who else would want her but me?"
My breath vanished.
"Every time I see that face, I only feel disgusted," Ethan added.
The words hit me with the force of a freight train.
Disgusted.
Ten years of icing his ankles. Ten years of working double shifts to pay for his ice time. Ten years of hiding my face behind high collars and heavy makeup so I wouldn't embarrass him in public.
"Fuck, Ethan, you're hitting my spot," Sophie moaned loudly. "But you know... that fire wasn't an accident."
The slapping stopped entirely. The sudden silence in the apartment was deafening.
"What are you talking about?" Ethan demanded.
"I caused it," Sophie said. Her voice carried a sickeningly sweet, meaningful edge. "I knocked over the space heater in the storage closet. I panicked and ran. I didn't know she was trapped in the locker room."
My knees buckled. I slumped against the hallway wall, my vision swimming with black spots.
"You started the fire," Ethan stated flatly.
"Are you mad at me?" she asked, feigning innocence.
Silence stretched for three agonizing seconds. I waited for him to scream at her. I waited for him to defend the woman he supposedly loved.
"So what?" Ethan finally replied, his voice turning icy and dismissive.
"You really don't care?"
"She survived, didn't she?" Ethan said coldly. "And she's still my fiancée now. These ten years count as compensation."
"You're so bad, Ethan," she purred.
"Spread your legs wider," he commanded. "I want to fuck you again."
I didn't scream. I didn't burst through the door and tear them apart.
Instead, a low, dry chuckle scraped its way out of my throat. It was a hollow, terrifying sound.
My hands went completely numb. The thick envelope slipped from my grasp.
The contracts hit the floor. Pages scattered across the hallway carpet, the bright white paper mocking my absolute stupidity.
I raised my trembling right hand. My fingertips brushed against the high collar of my coat, pushing the fabric down.
I traced the jagged, ruined skin along my jawline.
The physical proof of my loyalty. The daily reminder of his supposed heroism.
He knew.
He knew the truth, and he chose to hide it. He chose to fuck the woman who destroyed my life, right in the home I built for us.
Ten years of my life, reduced to a disgusting burden. Reduced to a debt he felt he had already paid.
The bitter cold of the hallway seeped into my bones, freezing whatever love I had left for Ethan Carter.
I turned away from the cracked door. I didn't bother picking up the contracts. They were worthless now.
I walked down the quiet corridor, my steps completely silent on the thick carpet.
My phone vibrated in my coat pocket.
I pulled it out, staring at the glowing screen in the dim light of the elevator bank.
It was another text from the unknown number.
*Now you know the truth. Meet me downstairs in the black SUV. We have a lot to discuss.*
