Another week passed, and Ethan barely came home.
When he did, I was already asleep.
On the rare occasions we crossed paths, I behaved gently and obediently, showing concern for him and never once mentioning Sophie.
Recently, Sophie had been posting on Instagram for seven days straight—every post a photo of Ethan by her side.
I liked every single one and left blessings in the comments.
Friends in our circle were stunned. They privately messaged Ethan, saying that the once strong-willed Celia Jennings—who could never tolerate even a small mistake—was gone.
They congratulated him on finally "training" his wife and enjoying the blessing of having two women.
Reading those flattering messages, Ethan felt inexplicably uneasy.
'Too obedient,' he thought. 'So obedient that she no longer seems like the Celia who loves and hates so fiercely.'
But then he thought again—perhaps this was the power of love.
'Celia loves me to the extreme, so she is willing to endure for my sake… willing to understand my difficulties. Yes, that must be it.'
With that thought, he felt justified once more.
Early the next morning, Ethan woke me up for the first time in ages.
"Celia, hurry and get ready. Sophie needs your help with something."
I raised an eyebrow but said nothing, got dressed, and went out with him.
When we arrived, I saw Sophie at once—wearing a wedding gown.
That gown was painfully familiar.
It was the one Ethan had specially commissioned from a master designer from abroad for our wedding three years ago—one of a kind in the world.
Now, that "unique love" was draped over another woman's body.
When Sophie saw me, she cast a shy glance at Ethan and then walked up to me.
"Celia, Ethan told me everything. He said you're very understanding and supportive of us putting on this act. Don't worry, I promise you—we're only acting. There's absolutely nothing else between us…"
As she spoke, she looked at Ethan, sorrow glimmering in her eyes.
"His heart still belongs to you."
Hearing this, Ethan clenched his fists, his expression tense with suppressed emotion.
I was speechless. Once again, I had been turned into a prop in their little play.
Just as I was about to lose my composure, Sophie spoke again, "Since this is your wedding dress, I thought I should ask for your opinion first. Celia, would you agree to let me use it?"
The meaning behind her words was obvious.
She wasn't just asking for the dress—she was trying to seize the position of the rightful wife.
Before I could respond, Ethan answered for me as if it were only natural, "Of course she won't mind. That dress has just been collecting dust at home anyway—Celia doesn't need it anymore."
"Letting Sophie use it to fulfill her grandfather's last wish counts as a good deed. You should be happy about that too, right, Celia?"
He turned to look at me, his eyes full of certainty.
I let out a silent scoff.
Stepping forward, I helped Sophie adjust the hem of the skirt.
My hand brushed against her waist. It was noticeably tense.
"Of course I don't mind," I said lightly.
"I heard the wedding is set for next week? I'll be there on time. I'll even give you a big gift. After all, it's not often you get the chance to watch your own husband marry another woman. I'd like to broaden my horizons too."
Sophie froze, clearly not expecting me to be this calm.
I went on, "But Sophie, doesn't the waist of this dress seem a little tight? Looks like you've been eating well lately."
I glanced pointedly at her lower abdomen.
Her face stiffened. She instinctively covered her stomach, panic flickering in her eyes.
My hand slid downward.
My fingers hooked the edge of the gown's hem, where my initials—"CJ"—were embroidered.
Since the heart of the man who gave this dress was already gone, the dress itself was indeed useless.
With a sharp tug, I ripped off the expensive lace embroidered with my name.
Sophie screamed and staggered back two steps, clutching her chest, tears brimming in her eyes.
"Ah! My wedding dress! Celia, what are you doing? Even if you don't agree, you didn't have to tear it in public and humiliate me!"
Ethan flew into a rage.
He rushed over, shoved me aside, and shielded Sophie behind him.
"Celia! Have you lost your mind? You'd even bully a young girl!
"You've already worn this dress. Leaving it there is just a waste. What's wrong with letting Sophie use it? How can you be so vicious!"
Frowning impatiently, he said, "As punishment, the project your family is negotiating will be suspended. And I won't be coming home for a while either. Reflect on your actions!"
With that, he wrapped his arm around the sobbing Sophie and walked away without looking back.
I held the torn scrap of lace in my hand, utterly unmoved by his threat.
No cooperation? Fine. After all, you no longer have the money for that project anyway.
I took out my phone and made a series of swift moves—transferring all the assets under his name.
