This morning, Ethan had told me to stay home and rest, assuring me he’d attend the gala alone. Now, it was obvious why. His concern wasn’t for me—it was for that dancer, Madeline Brooks.
I changed into formal attire and headed to the hotel hosting the gala.
When I arrived, I spotted them almost immediately. Right in the center of the dance floor, Ethan was holding Madeline in his arms as they danced.
The murmurs started before I even stepped onto the floor.
“Claire always acts so high and mighty, bragging about her ‘devoted husband.’”
“Guess she’s no better than anyone else. He even brought his mistress to the gala.”
“Ethan doesn’t hold back. Not bringing his wife to such a formal event? Bold.”
“Men—they all say they love you, but their bodies? They’ll love anyone. Only someone like Claire would believe a man’s promises.”
I stepped into the restroom, letting their mocking words wash over me. Then, taking a deep breath, I pushed open the stall door and made my way toward Ethan.
The moment I walked in, the room seemed to freeze, every pair of eyes snapping in my direction.