Chapter 2

"Order takeout. I'm tired today."

Beside him, Chloe glared at Ethan in annoyance before putting on her sweet, fake act:

"Ethan, she's pregnant. Pregnant women are fragile. How could you let her cook? I'm fine being a little hungry. We can't make Vivian work."

Hearing that Chloe was hungry, Ethan’s temper flared instantly.

"What is your problem, Vivian? If you’re mad that I didn't announce our marriage tonight, just say it! Why are you giving me attitude now?"

"Can you stop acting like a spoiled child? Chloe worked from dawn till dusk for this gala. Do you think everyone is like you, just staying at home all day, doing nothing and living off my money?"

He dumped all his frustration on me, just like he always did.

He never cared about my feelings.

Seeing that I remained silent, he added bitterly:

"Don't forget who paid for this house and who has been supporting us for the last ten years. Without me, could you even survive?"

"Whatever. I don't want to fight tonight. It’s a celebration, and you’re ruining the mood!"

I looked at Ethan's face, twisted with anger because he wanted to defend Chloe. It was so incredibly ironic.

From beginning to end, what did I do wrong?

I just said I didn't want to cook. Was that a crime?

"Ethan, you swore to me that you would announce our ten-year marriage at the gala tonight. Did you do it?"

"I’m not even fighting with you. My silence is the greatest mercy I’m giving you. What right do you have to yell at me?"

I didn't bottle it up this time. Because this time,

I genuinely felt disgusted by my own past tolerance.

Seeing the tension rise, Chloe gave me a smug, subtle smirk. Then, she clung to Ethan's arm and sighed softly:

"Ethan, everyone knows how much you've sacrificed for this marriage. But Vivian is still throwing a tantrum over a public announcement."

"Doesn't she know that going public with our corporate partnership is the only way to take your career to the next level?"

By the end of her sentence, Chloe’s voice was barely a whisper, making her look like the victim.

I almost laughed out loud.

Ethan looked like a dog with its tail stepped on. He roared:

"Vivian Vance, do you have a conscience? Everything I do is for you, and instead of appreciating it, you mock me?"

"If it weren't for the baby in your belly, I would have divorced you a long time ago!"

Chloe clung tighter to his arm, looking like a delicate, helpless flower. Ethan’s tone softened instantly as he looked at her, then turned back to me:

"Fine, Vivian."

"You're pregnant. Stop throwing tantrums. It's bad for the baby. Go to sleep. I'll drive you to your checkup tomorrow."

In his eyes, any emotion I showed was just "throwing a tantrum."

Any half-hearted apology he gave was a favor I had to accept, otherwise I was just "petty."

He treated me like this only because I had spent a decade acting like his loyal, desperate puppy.

I had lowered my standards to the floor, given up my music, and turned myself into his shadow.

This was my own fault.

The next morning, Ethan slammed my bedroom door open. He stood over me while I was still half-asleep, furious.

"What is up with the suitcases on the floor? Where do you think you’re going?"

Where?

To leave you, and this city, forever.

I rubbed my eyes and said naturally: