- 9.
I sat beside my sister, dressed and composed,
a strange guilt gnawing at me. Ethan sat on a
separate sofa, his fingers drumming restlessly
on the armrest, taking deep breaths every few seconds to compose himself.
L
“What are you doing back?” I asked.
My sister coughed, as if the words were difficult
to say. “Actually, I never went on our
anniversary trip. I went on a solo trip to clear
my head.”
“What?”
She hesitated.
“Ms. Evans, please just say what you need to
say,” Ethan said, his voice tight.
My sister took a deep breath. “Avery, I… I’m
divorced.”
I looked at her, understanding dawning. She placed the crumpled divorce agreement on the table. “I wasn’t sure if I should say anything, but seeing this… I felt like I had to.” She looked at Ethan. “Mr. Blackwood, I owe you. I ran away. I’ll marry you to make amends. Just please, let my sister go.”
My heart skipped a beat. This was it. Ethan,
who refused to divorce me, would surely choose
the real thing over the substitute. But… why did
I feel…
I watched them, their gazes locked in a silent
battle. I should be happy, shouldn’t I?
I looked down, hiding my expression.
After a long silence, Ethan spoke. “What?” “Please divorce my sister,” my sister repeated.
“No,” Ethan said flatly.
I looked up, stunned.
“Having two sisters marry me, one after the
other? I’d be a laughingstock,” he said, his
expression unreadable.
“I’m a citizen of another country now. I still use
my married name. No one would connect us,”
she pleaded.
Ethan remained silent.
My sister pushed the divorce agreement
towards him. “Mr. Blackwood, please sign it. I’ll
repay what I owe. Just stop tormenting my
sister.”
“Tormenting?”
He laughed, a harsh, brittle sound. He leaned
forward, a reckless edge to his voice, as if he’d
reached his breaking point. He gave my sister
an icy stare. “Tormenting? Why don’t you ask
your precious sister who’s tormenting whom?”
His jaw clenched, his voice tight with barely-
controlled rage. “Why? Why does everyone
keep telling me to divorce her? Yes, I forced her
into this marriage. It’s my fault. I deserve
whatever she throws at me. But you… you have
no right–❞ He bit back whatever he’d been
about to say, as if remembering she was my
sister, the last vestiges of his composure
holding him back.
My sister stared at him, speechless. So did I.
Ethan seemed to realize he’d said too much. A
flicker of something regret?
face, quickly masked.
crossed his
Forced her? Three years ago, it had been a
<
business arrangement between the Evans and
Blackwood families. My father, impressed with.
Ethan’s rising star in the business world, had
overlooked his humble beginnings and offered
my sister’s hand in marriage. Then she’d met
lan, a golden–haired, blue–eyed violinist, and
eloped. I was still in college, forced to marry
Ethan as soon as I turned twenty, the legal age.
Forced?
“So you were behind lan,” my sister whispered.
“No wonder he was always around. I thought it
was fate.”
Ethan shot to his feet, his face tight. “Enough.
Don’t.”
My sister stood up too, her eyes blazing. “So
you never loved me. You sent someone who fit my ideal to manipulate me. I don’t owe you anything! My family doesn’t owe you anything
“Shut up!” Ethan’s voice cracked, a rare
display of vulnerability that couldn’t drown out
<
display of vulnerability that couldn’t drown out
my sister’s calm, cutting words.
“And my sister owes you even less!”
Ethan’s chest heaved, as if he’d been punched
in the gut. He looked like a snail, its shell ripped
away, exposed and vulnerable under the
scorching sun.
“She owes you nothing! The business deal was
finalized. She wants out. You have no right to
hold her here!” My sister’s accusations, sharp
and relentless, left him speechless.
He trembled, his fists clenched. “I won’t let her
go.”
His eyes were red–rimmed, fixed on my sister,
refusing to meet mine. “I won’t!” He’d called
me childish, but now he was the one acting like
a petulant child.
My sister stood protectively in front of me, like
a mama bear ready to charge. “You think your
money gives you control over everyone? My
<
sister is a human being, not a toy for you to
lock away!”
“Ethan Blackwood, you can play your games,
your manipulations, in your boardroom. You have no right to bully a college student!”
He opened his mouth, but no words came out. I
wanted to tell her he wasn’t bullying me. He
just… ignored me, didn’t touch me, didn’t love
- me. And that hurt.
“Look at how she’s living!” my sister continued,
her voice rising. “The lock on her bedroom door
has been broken for weeks! You’re so rich, but
you can’t even fix that. You stepped all over her
divorce papers. Have you ever treated her like a
wife? Have you ever shown her any kindness?
She’s so pathetic, she had to ask me to buy her
a phone card!”
Ice water trickled down my spine. My blood ran
cold.
One word echoed in my mind:
9.2
Busted.
- 9.
The fragility in Ethan’s expression vanished. His
pupils contracted. He looked up.
“What did you say?”
I grabbed my sister’s arm, pleading with my eyes. Please, please, please don’t say it!
My sister looked at me, confused, then glared,
as if at a cowardly child. “What? Are you
pretending to care now, Ethan? My little sister, everyone thinks she’s living the high life,
married to a rich man. But when I asked her
what she wanted from Barcelona, she asked for
a phone card! A phone card! She was
practically begging, afraid to ask for anything.
more!”
That wasn’t it!
I trembled, unable to meet his gaze. The silence
stretched, thick and suffocating.
Finally, my sister seemed to realize something
was wrong. “What? What about the phone
card?”
Ethan laughed, a short, sharp sound. “Nothing.”
His voice dropped, a burning gaze fixed on me,
making my skin crawl.
“It’s all my fault,” he said softly. “I’m sorry.”
All the anger, the rage, vanished. He was all
sweetness and light, even calling my sister
“sis.” Apologizing!
“Don’t… don’t do that,” my sister stammered,
thrown off balance. “It’s… unsettling.”
“It’s my fault,” Ethan repeated. “But sis, there
are some things we need to discuss privately.
Give us some space.”
He gently, but firmly, ushered my sister out of
the room. The moment the door closed, I knew I
was doomed.
The click of the lock was like the starting pistol.
I ran upstairs, heading for his bedroom. I swear,
I just wanted to lock myself in. I didn’t even
L
think about the fact that his room also had a
bed!
But Ethan was faster. Before I could close the
door, he was there, blocking it with his hand,
looking down at me. He closed the door, locked
it, and pulled off his sweater in one fluid
motion. He backed me against the bed.
“I… I… I’m sorry!” I cried.
“Too late,” he said.
“I won’t divorce you!” I blurted out. After that
scene, it was clear he didn’t see me as a
substitute. He might even… like me. Maybe I
shouldn’t be so hasty about the divorce.
He nodded. “Don’t even think about it.”
He pushed me onto the bed, his gaze burning into mine, his kisses raining down on my neck, possessive and almost… punishing.
“Hickeys, huh? Calling me ‘dude.‘ Offering to share your ‘wife.‘ Pretty bold, dude.” He kissed me, his pent–up jealousy finally unleashed, so
intense it bordered on… vulnerability. He wasn’t
used to showing emotion, so he held it back, tightly controlled, until, after a long, searching kiss, as if drawing strength from me, he whispered, “I do love you. I was just afraid that if I said it, you’d say you didn’t love me back.” He held me close. I hesitated, then tentatively wrapped my arms around him. His whole body
trembled.
After a long moment, he whispered, “Avery, can you say it again? The ‘hold me‘ thing?”
I couldn’t help but smile. “Get lost.”
He didn’t, of course. He just held me tighter, closer. This time, there were no interruptions. I watched him cover the fake hickeys with real ones, realizing he’d memorized that photo, fueled by jealousy, looking at it over and over. The curtains billowed in the breeze. The sun set, then rose again.
In the morning light, I opened my eyes, my gaze
The curtains billowed in the breeze. The sun
set, then rose again.
In the morning light, I opened my eyes, my gaze
drifting to the corner of his desk. Hidden there,
tucked away, was the bag of cookies.
(The End)
