Chapter 3
The Morgan family had already begun discussing inviting Hannah, the Lopez heiress, over as a
guest.
Elijah quietly excused herself, saying she wanted to return to her room.
Mrs. Morgan waved a hand dismissively but stopped Mrs. Watchmaker instead.
“Mrs. Watchmaker, practice making braised short ribs these next few days. For now, go wash the
fruit in the kitchen.”
It didn’t matter that, just minutes ago, she’d viciously humiliated Elijah. Mrs. Morgan carried on issuing orders as if nothing had happened.
Mrs. Watchmaker didn’t dare complain. She answered softly, “Yes, ma’am,” and hurried to the
kitchen.
Elijah stared after her mother’s retreating back, lost in thought.
In her previous life, even after she became Mrs. Ethan Morgan, her mother had endured endless hardships because of it.
The Morgans had caged her youth and stolen her happiness, dragging her mother and Cindy into misery right alongside her.
This time… she had to get out. And she would take her mother with her.
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Elijah’s thoughts churned as she climbed the stairs, but at the landing, someone grabbed her and
pinned her in place.
She gasped, startled, shivering as familiar, scorching breath brushed against her ear.
Ethan. He mistook her trembling for embarrassment, his tone laced with mockery.
“Yesterday, you acted all calm and detached about ending things… and today, you’re giving me this kind of surprise?”
Though his posture was intimate, his voice was cold as ice.
“No need to play cheap tricks. You’re upset about ending our arrangement, right? Feeling like you
lost out?”
He leaned in, his words sharp, contempt curling at the edges.
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“You know I’m not stingy with bed partners. Name your price. Considering our little ‘siblings‘ act,
I’ll even let you ask for a little more than usual.”
Elijah slowly lifted her gaze, meeting his mocking stare head–on.
“I’ve never thought of it that way, Ethan. Believe me or not, but I didn’t post that picture.”
Ethan’s lips twisted into a derisive smile.
“Oh? No more pretending? Not calling me ‘brother‘ now?”
Elijah forced her voice steady, swallowing the tightness in her chest.
“You said it yourself. From now on, we’re just normal… siblings.‘
))
Ethan studied her for a long, quiet moment, then let out a short, sharp laugh.
“So obedient
now, huh?”
“Then explain this–if you agreed to end things, why did you leak our photo online? If the Morgans hadn’t blocked it in time, were you planning to force your way in?”
Elijah pressed her lips together, refusing to break, her voice calm but firm.
“I said it wasn’t me. I don’t even know how it got out.”
Ethan’s expression darkened, his voice cutting like glass.
“Elijah, you know what I hate most? A whore playing the saint.”
“The photo was taken in the bedroom at my countryside villa. Do you really think I wouldn’t recognize it?”
“I don’t care if it was an accident or your pathetic little attempt to marry up. Either way, enough.”
“Remember your place. Making public declarations of ‘territory‘? That’s not for you.”
“If you’re content playing the obedient little sister, I’ll make sure you live comfortably.
But if not–don’t expect me to leave you any dignity.”
Elijah was silent for a long moment before speaking softly.
“The photo is mine… but the post had nothing to do with me.”
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“I’ll find out who’s behind it. And when I do, I’ll give you an answer.”
She already had a suspicion. She just hadn’t had the chance to confirm it yet.
Ethan gave a cold, disdainful snort, then finally released her.
That night, Elijah barely slept.
Her dreams were a relentless blur of the disgusted faces of the Morgan family, Cindy lying in a pool
of blood, Ethan’s cold, threatening expression from this new life.
When the alarm rang at eight, she opened her eyes groggily..
It hit her then. There were no frantic wedding plans. No abrupt withdrawal from school.
She was still just a junior in college.
For the first time, she truly felt the weight of her second chance.
Elijah went downstairs with a faint, hopeful excitement fluttering in her chest. But the moment she
stepped into the living room, her footsteps faltered.
The house was unnervingly quiet. The servants had all disappeared.
Only Mrs. Morgan sat on the sofa, poised and composed.
A sense of suffocating pressure settled over Elijah instantly.
Mrs. Morgan didn’t look up, only set her teacup down sharply on the table and spoke in a voice cool
as ice. “Sit.”
Elijah sat rigidly, every muscle taut.
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“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue? Yesterday you were talking plenty.”
Mrs. Morgan leaned back, her tone biting and sarcastic.
“I want to hear what excuses you can come up with now.”
Then, with a sharp flick of her wrist, she threw a thick stack of papers onto the table.
On top lay a complete record of Elijah’s past three years with Ethan.
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Chapter 3
