Ethan Spencer had returned from an international competition early, desperate to surprise his wife, Olivia Hayes.

He sat in the driver’s seat of the stretched Rolls-Royce, leaving the privacy partition cracked just enough to catch a glimpse of her face the moment she stepped inside. When Olivia finally slid into the backseat, her profile was as sharp and elegant as ever, carrying that familiar, crisp scent that had haunted his dreams for the past week.

He hadn't seen her in seven long days. Ethan felt his restraint crumbling; he leaned forward, dying to whisper her name, "Olivia," just to see her eyes light up.

Then, the rear door slid open.

A tall, broad-shouldered man climbed in, bringing a draft of cold air with him. Before Ethan could even process the movement, the man had pushed Olivia back against the leather seat.

Their lips collided, hungry and frantic. "Olivia," the man murmured, his voice heavy with entitlement. "Help me out here..."

Ethan’s heart stopped. His instinct was to slam the partition down, but he froze when he saw Olivia’s white-knuckled grip digging into the man’s jacket. She wasn't fighting back—she was arching into him, responding with soft, gasping moans that felt like needles piercing Ethan’s chest.

His blood turned to ice. Even seeing it with his own eyes, he couldn’t fathom that the woman who had once claimed to love him more than life itself was cheating right behind his back.

"Mmm... Damon, stop. Not here, someone might see—"

Damon Meyer bit her lip, a dark smirk tugging at his mouth. "What are you afraid of? The privacy glass is up. As long as you don't scream, the driver won't hear a damn thing."

Damon’s hand tightened on her waist, his eyes glinting with malice. "Or are you worried he'll find out? That he’s been nothing but a sucker for the last five years? I’d love to see the look on his face when he realizes he’s been playing daddy to my woman and my kid."

The cruelty of the reality hit Ethan like a physical blow. A sucker. A placeholder. He had poured five years of his life into this marriage, only to find out that his wife and their son weren't his at all.

Ethan’s head hammered with a deafening roar. His chest burned with a suffocating, unbearable pain. Rage—blind, volcanic, and humiliated—overtook him. He didn't think; he just slammed his foot onto the accelerator.

The car surged forward like a missile, the tires screeching against the asphalt until—*CRUNCH*. The sedan smashed head-first into a thick oak tree.

The violent inertia sent the couple in the back tumbling onto the floorboards. They scrambled up, wild-eyed, as Ethan ripped open the driver’s side door.

"Are you trying to kill us?" Damon roared, shielding Olivia behind his own frame.

Ethan didn't say a word. He hauled Damon out of the wreckage by his collar and planted a vicious hook squarely into his jaw. Before he could follow up with a second strike, two of Damon’s security guards slammed Ethan into the side of the car. Damon recovered quickly, landing a brutal kick to Ethan’s gut. The impact sent a spasm of agony through his muscles, and the metallic tang of blood flooded his throat.

"Enough!"

Olivia stepped between them, her cheeks flushed, her hair disheveled, but her eyes were cold, jagged ice.

"Ethan? Why are you even here?" She stared at him, her tone accusing. "Were you waiting there on purpose?"

Ethan wanted to explain. He wanted to tell her about the flight he’d caught, the ten hours he spent in the sky just to get home, the joy he’d wanted to share. But the words died in his throat, choked out by the sight of her defending the man who had just dismantled his life.

His voice was a gravelly rasp. "Don't you have anything to say to me?"

Damon stepped out from behind Olivia, draping a possessive arm around her waist. He looked at Ethan as if he were a stray dog in the gutter.

"Let me introduce myself. I’m Damon Meyer," he said, his voice dripping with condescension. "Olivia’s childhood sweetheart, her first love, and the man she was always meant to marry. And, most importantly, I’m the biological father of your son, Eli."

Ethan’s gaze shifted to Olivia, desperate for a denial. A lie. Anything to save what was left of his sanity.

Olivia’s expression flickered for a fraction of a second, but then, she smoothed her expression into a mask of total apathy. "There's nothing to explain, Ethan. It’s exactly what it looks like."

Ethan’s heart finally went cold, turning to stone in the center of his chest. He closed his eyes, drawing a jagged breath to steady the tremors in his hands.

"Olivia," he whispered, his voice deathly quiet. "Let's get a divorce."