Unveiled: The Survivor's Triumph

I calmly beat the eggs in the bowl, ignoring Ethan's comments.

"Don't rely on women." I wanted to tease him but decided against it.

Ethan stayed, and I could feel his eyes on me, making me uneasy.

"That dress looks good on you," he said suddenly.

I glanced at my beige dress and blurted, "Doesn't your girlfriend mind you giving me her clothes?" I sounded jealous. Ethan didn't answer, and I didn't turn around, imagining his smirk.

"Who said I have a girlfriend?" he laughed.

I didn't push further, feeling the awkward tension in the kitchen, my cheeks blushing.

I didn't notice when he left, but when I brought out breakfast, he was on his laptop.

After setting down two breakfasts and lattes, he slid a box of pills toward me. "Hangover pills. Water's on your left."

With a headache, I took the pills and thanked him, holding the warm cup.

Ethan put down his phone, leaned back, and said, "A woman should protect herself. Don't get drunk around strangers. Not every guy is a gentleman."

I snapped back, "Didn't you say you wanted to see my sincerity? You're why I got drunk."

Ethan chuckled, "Why are you so cute? Think I wouldn't desire you? Are you stupid?"

"So last night was a lesson?"

Ethan swirled his latte but didn't drink. "Emily, things aren't always as they seem. Be cautious."

His words were loaded with meaning.

I knew Ethan wasn't ordinary. Living in a luxurious villa, driving a fancy car, and being successful young, he had to be special.

During breakfast, Ethan praised my cooking. My skills were honed from a failed marriage.

"I have two principles: never take advantage and never show mercy," Ethan said.

I knew he was still mad about my soft-heartedness yesterday.

After breakfast, I took a cab back to Broadway Alley. Arthur was waiting at the entrance. I walked past him.

"I'm here to take back what's mine," he said.

I thought he wanted to discuss the divorce. I turned and smirked, "What's yours?"This content is © NôvelDrama.Org.

"Before we married, I bought you a pressure cooker and a fan."

Arthur looked embarrassed, knowing how petty he sounded.

I realized two years weren't enough to know him. "And an oven. Take them all, so I don't have to see them," I said with disdain.

I let him in to take his stuff. True to form, he didn't leave a single umbrella.

I pointed to the bathroom faucet. "You replaced this too. Want it?"

Arthur silently started dismantling it.

He made two trips to move everything out. Before leaving, he asked, "When will you divorce me?"

I sneered, "Don't you get it? I said I won't divorce you."

Arthur frowned and left, saying, "Emily, dragging this out won't help you."