Ethan Carter pulled Isabella Moore along as they came over to congratulate me.
“Claire, congratulations on winning the championship just as you wished! You were stunning on stage today!”
Isabella’s gaze swept down to my feet before she also offered her congratulations.
I smiled faintly, meeting Ethan’s eyes.
“Thank you.”
And silently, I hope you get what you wish for in this lifetime too.
To celebrate my victory, Ethan insisted on taking me to a club for a lively night out.
Before I could decline, he was already on the phone calling people to join.
I couldn’t escape his persistence and reluctantly agreed.
As I headed toward the underground parking lot, Isabella tugged at my arm.
“Claire, you must be exhausted after the competition. Just ride with us. I’ll go get the car, and you can help watch over Ethan. You don’t know how much he drank—his clients wouldn’t let him go, but he still insisted on coming to see your performance.”
Her tone was full of reproach, and her reproachful eyes lingered on Ethan.
Still tipsy, Ethan laughed foolishly and slung an arm around my shoulder.
“Claire’s competition? Even if knives fell from the sky, I’d still come. She’s my only little sister, after all!”
He had always treated me like a sister. Even in my past life when we were married, he cursed me constantly yet still cared for me in that same “sibling” way—never once crossing the line.
If blame must fall, it’s on me—for foolishly falling in love with him.
If I hadn’t, Richard wouldn’t have stormed his engagement party after I was left broken-hearted and paralyzed.
I gently pried Ethan’s arm off and pushed him toward Isabella.
“Let your wife-to-be take care of you, Ethan. I don’t want to deal with his drunken antics.”
I turned, pulling Sophie Green with me toward the elevator.
As the doors began to close, Ethan suddenly pressed a hand against them, stopping them.
“Claire, what did you just call Isabella?”
His eyes were hazy, but his tone was unusually serious.
I gave him a small, steady smile.
“Wife.”
He froze, frowning slightly, as if he wanted to say something. But Isabella tugged on his arm, and the doors closed, shutting them out.
At my side, Sophie whispered, puzzled:
“Claire, didn’t you use to like Mr. Carter? Why the sudden change…?”
“That was the past. People have to move on.”
Inside the private room at the club, Ethan and I were surrounded by mutual friends raising their glasses to congratulate me.
After the commotion, I slipped into a corner, quietly sipping juice.
Ethan was in the center of the crowd, drinking as everyone egged him on. Isabella clung to his side, occasionally stepping in to block drinks for him. Their closeness spurred the crowd to chant for them to kiss.
Ethan didn’t hesitate—he kissed Isabella passionately, a French kiss under the dim lights.
The raw intensity in his eyes was blindingly painful to watch.
I stood and made my way toward the restroom, desperate to leave the suffocating atmosphere.
But someone grabbed my arm.
“Claire, where are you going? Ethan’s in the middle of a hot kiss—you’re not planning to ruin the moment, are you?”
For a second, the lively air in the room froze with awkward tension.
Everyone knew about my past feelings for Ethan—it wasn’t exactly a secret. They thought I was about to throw a jealous tantrum.
I calmly pulled my arm free.
“I’m going to the restroom.”
Sophie, thinking I was holding back my feelings, couldn’t resist speaking up for me.
“If it weren’t for Mr. Carter suddenly getting a girlfriend and announcing an engagement, everyone in Los Angeles thought he’d end up marrying Claire. After all—”
I tugged on her sleeve to silence her.
But Ethan had already pulled away from the kiss, his face dark.
Coldly, he snapped at Sophie:
“You’re just an assistant. What do you know? Stop spouting nonsense!”
