Theater: NovelMaster | Language: English | NEW
Synopsis
Tags: Betrayal, Separation Anxiety, Caught in the Act, Regretful Ex, Female Revenge
Ever since my fiancé, Ethan Vance, rescued my best friend Chloe from a mudslide, she claimed she developed severe separation anxiety.
He had to drive her to and from work every day. He had to hold her purse while shopping.
She even demanded that he stand outside her bathroom door while she showered, claiming the sound of water triggered panic attacks and made it impossible to breathe.
Whenever I showed the slightest frustration, Chloe would drop to her knees, sobbing:
"I'm so sorry, Elena. I can't control it... I'm so useless..."
Ethan would sigh, wrap his arms around me, and reassure me over and over again:
"I'm only helping because she's your best friend."
"I just saved her life, Elena. There is nothing between us."
Because of Chloe’s supposed trauma, I compromised again and again.
Finally, I managed to get Ethan to sit down and discuss our upcoming wedding timeline.
We had barely taken our seats when Chloe rushed in, clutching her chest, claiming another anxiety flare-up.
And Ethan actually sat there, letting Chloe rewrite and change every single detail of our wedding.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I excused myself to the restroom to fix my makeup.
On my way back, I saw Ethan coming out from paying the bill.
Chloe had her fingers hooked into his tie, pulling him down into a passionate kiss.
And his hands were wrapped tightly around her waist, his eyes dripping with tender affection.
Right then, I knew.
There would be no wedding.
Seeing me standing there, Chloe pulled Ethan even closer and flashed me a smug, triumphant smirk.
In that instant, the truth hit me like a slap in the face. She had been faking her illness the entire time.
I used to have nightmares about losing Ethan and Chloe—the two people I loved most. I would wake up in tears.
Every single time, Ethan would wake up, pull me against his chest, and whisper sweet reassurances until I fell back asleep.
Yet now, watching him slip away with my own eyes, I felt an eerie, unprecedented calm.
I pulled out my phone, snapped a crystal-clear photo as evidence, and quietly walked away.
Back in my car, I scrolled through my gallery and permanently deleted nearly fifty thousand photos of us.
Staring at the empty album, a dull, delayed ache throbbed in my chest.
I drove straight to our newly purchased bridal house. The moving truck I had booked was already parked out front.
While the movers bustled around loading up my belongings, I wandered aimlessly through the rooms. My feet led me into the study, where my gaze fell upon an old, worn poetry anthology on the desk.
This was the very first gift Ethan gave me after returning from abroad, back when he fell for me at first sight.
At the time, I wasn't interested in him at all. I treated him like thin air.
Yet, after discovering my passion for poetry, he took writing workshops for six straight months, filling this notebook with 108 handwritten love poems just for me.
Alongside the poems, I had scribbled little notes in the margins, recording every sweet, touching thing he had done since we started dating.
Only four blank pages remained at the end. I had cherished this book so much that I hesitated to write on them.
Now, as I flipped to the very back cover, my entire body froze.
There was a faint, printed line:
[All poems generated by AI. Do not take seriously.]
A bone-chilling cold instantly washed over me.
Suddenly, my phone buzzed. Ethan finally realized I was gone.
"Elena? Why did you leave without telling me? Are you feeling sick?"
My throat felt parched. "No."
He let out a relieved breath, his tone laced with mild complaint.
"Good. You have no idea—Chloe had another panic attack right after you left. I had to run around catering to her, buying her favorite boba and taking her to a movie."
"She cried all over my shirt. Honestly, if she weren't your best friend, I wouldn't bother putting up with her."
He sounded like he was complaining, but the sheer adoration and pampering in his voice were impossible to hide.
The old Ethan wouldn't even buy her a drink. Whenever Chloe got too close, he would hide behind me and scroll through his phone in annoyance.
Back then, I had to nudge his foot under the table just to get him to take off his AirPods and greet her.
Once Chloe walked away, he would scoff:
"She's way too manipulative, Elena. Keep your guard up around her."
After the accident, Chloe claimed she couldn't survive without Ethan by her side.
Ethan had refused at first. It was me who kissed him, comforted him, and spent a whole week convincing him to help her.
I thought it was a chance to clear his prejudice against my best friend.
That was why I had never, not even once, suspected they were sleeping together behind my back.
Lost in bitter memories, I stayed silent.
Click. He hung up on me.
A sharp pang hit my chest.
Ethan once told me that the last call his late mother ever made was cut short because he was too impatient as a child. Ever since, he swore he would never hang up on me first.
Turns out, promises have expiration dates.
I opened my contacts and dialed a number I hadn't called in months: Professor Catherine.
"Professor, is that research spot in your fellowship program still open? I'd love to join your team."
I had previously turned down the prestigious offer because of the wedding and settling down. But now, all I wanted was to run far, far away.
Within seconds, she sent over a business-class flight ticket. Then came an excited voice note:
[I cannot wait to see you in London in two days, Elena.]My flight with Professor Catherine was scheduled in six hours.
Thinking back to that eccentric, brilliant mentor who had begged me to stay in academia, my lips curved into a faint smile. For the first time in months, I felt genuine hope for the future.
My personal furniture and belongings were already packed and redirected to a private storage unit.
The only thing left was to retrieve my $60,000 wedding deposit from the event planning venue.
I drove over to the agency's building. Just as I stepped near the elevator bank, familiar voices echoed from the emergency stairwell beside me.
"Ethan... when you take me to Miami for treatment, can we bring Elena along?"
Before Ethan could answer, Chloe continued in a breathy, guilt-ridden tone:
"Because of my condition, you let me alter your wedding plans, and now you're ditching Elena to accompany me. I feel so bad about it... I want to make it up to her in Miami."
My heart pounded against my ribs. I crept forward and gently cracked the heavy door open.
Through the gap, I saw Ethan holding Chloe securely against his chest, his large hand gently rubbing her lower stomach, his eyes softer than I had ever seen.
"Don't be silly. This trip isn't just for your therapy. Have you forgotten our baby needs prenatal care, too? I booked an appointment with the top OB-GYN specialist in Miami to design a customized pregnancy plan for you."
Chloe... was pregnant.
My fingers dug into the leather strap of my purse so hard that my knuckles turned white. Tears stung my eyes.
I had a baby once, too.
During that deadly mudslide, the backroads were completely flooded. Ethan and I had rented an old utility ATV to search for Chloe.
When we finally found her, she was barely conscious and needed urgent medical care, but our ATV got stuck in a ditch of thick mud.
Ethan told me to push from behind.
With all my strength, I pushed the vehicle free, but I lost my footing and tumbled face-first onto a sharp boulder. Agonizing pain ripped through my abdomen as blood mixed with muddy rainwater, soaking into the dirt.
"Ethan! Ethan!" I screamed for him, but all I saw through the torrential downpour was his taillights speeding away into the distance with Chloe.
When I woke up in the hospital, the doctor looked at me with pity.
"Severe abdominal trauma combined with extreme hypothermia caused a complete uterine rupture. We couldn't save the baby... and your chances of conceiving again are practically nonexistent."
I fell into a deep depression, refusing to eat or speak. Ethan had dropped to his knees by my bed, sobbing for three days straight. That was when he tearfully promised he wouldn't touch me or sleep in the same bed, claiming he didn't want to trigger my grief.
Now I knew the truth.
Every sweet word was a sickening lie.
A wave of uncontrollable rage surged straight to my head.
I kicked the stairwell door wide open, stormed inside, and slammed my palm across Ethan's face with everything I had.
SLAP!
He stumbled back, his eyes wide in utter disbelief."Ethan!"
Chloe shrieked.
Instinctively, Ethan shoved me backward with immense force.
My hand slipped from his collar, and my back slammed violently against the concrete stairs. A piercing, sharp agony radiated up my spine.
Chloe rushed forward and kicked my stomach several times while screaming in mock terror. Then, she quickly covered her mouth, gasping dramatically.
"Elena! Oh my god, is that you? Were you eavesdropping on us?!"
I bit down on my lip until I tasted blood, paralyzed by the sheer pain.
Through the haze, I saw Ethan reach out, as if wanting to help me up, but Chloe grabbed his arm tightly.
"Don't touch her, Ethan! She's hysterical! What if she hurts me and our baby?!"
Just like that, Ethan took a step back, wrapping an arm around Chloe, watching indifferently as I lay sprawled on the cold floor.
My heart shattered into a million pieces.
Gathering every ounce of breath I had left, I rasped:
"What did I ever do to deserve this from either of you?"
I had given them everything.
I spent sleepless nights organizing financial portfolios for Ethan’s firm, drinking until I vomited blood at business dinners just to secure multi-million-dollar deals for him. I never complained once.
When Chloe was in danger, I emptied my savings of $15,000 to hire local rescue teams. Even after losing my baby and my fertility, I never blamed anyone.
Ethan stared down at me. After a long silence, he crouched down and wiped the cold sweat from my forehead.
"Elena, you charged in out of nowhere and scared us. We didn't mean to hurt you. Chloe even helped adjust our wedding plans today out of the goodness of her heart. Stop making a scene."
I stared at him in disgust. "By adjusting my wedding, you mean sleeping with my fiancé and getting knocked up behind my back?!"
Chloe burst into theatrical tears, dropping down and grabbing my wrist, violently slamming my hand against her own stomach.
"Blame me! It's all my fault! I couldn't control my feelings! Take it out on me, Elena, just don't ruin things with Ethan!"
I kept my hand completely limp, refusing to react to her performance.
Seeing that I wasn't buying it, Chloe scrambled up to the top of the concrete steps, sobbing hysterically.
"Elena! If I jump right now, whether I live or die, will you forgive us?!"
"Go ahead," I said coldly. "Jump."
I knew damn well a narcissist like Chloe would never jump.
Yet Ethan, who was kneeling near me, snapped his head up. His eyes were cold, treating me like a complete stranger.
He leaped up, took the stairs two at a time, and gathered Chloe protectively into his arms.
He kissed her forehead, her eyes, and her trembling lips, murmuring sweet nothings over and over to calm her down.
He didn't spare me a single glance. Without another word, he scooped Chloe up into his arms and carried her away.
They left in a hurry, leaving Chloe’s designer phone behind on the concrete step.
I picked it up, staring at the screen for a long time.
I needed closure.
I tried unlocking it. Ethan’s birthday was wrong. Chloe’s birthday was wrong.
Finally, with shaking fingers, I typed in the exact date the three of us first met.
Click. The phone unlocked.
The lock screen was a selfie of Ethan wrapping his arms around Chloe from behind while she flashed a peace sign, their cheeks pressed tightly together.
I opened her SnapChat and clicked on her thread with Ethan.
Endless messages. Paragraphs of daily banter that stretched back months.
Two days ago, Ethan had sent her a screenshot of a text from his father: [My dad agrees we make a much better match.]
I clicked on it. It was from Ethan's father—the very same man who held my hand last week, praising me for landing an eight-figure corporate contract and calling me his ideal future daughter-in-law. Now, he was telling Ethan to take good care of Chloe.
Scrolling up, I saw a text Chloe sent in the middle of the night, whining about feeling alone in the world as an orphan. By 10:00 AM the next morning, Ethan had sent her a signed legal document transferring 10% of his firm’s net profits—worth nearly $5 million annually—straight to her trust.
Every single day, they flirted, shared intimate moments, and built a life behind my back.
I pulled out my own phone and placed it side-by-side with hers.
My chat with Ethan consisted entirely of short, dry work demands from him, followed by massive spreadsheets and financial audits sent by me.
We didn't look like lovers at all. We looked like a cold boss and an exploited employee.
I had earned him hundreds of millions without asking for a dime, while he handed Chloe a $5 million yearly allowance just because she whined.
I wiped the cold tear from my cheek.
It was fine.
I was leaving this nightmare behind.After collecting my wedding refund, I returned to finish packing.
Suddenly, my phone rang. It was an urgent call from Chicago General Hospital.
"Is this Elena Vance? Your grandmother suffered an acute stroke. You need to come to the hospital immediately to handle the paperwork and admission fees."
I dropped everything and raced over.
By the time the initial emergency procedures were settled, Grandma slowly blinked her eyes open.
Seeing me, tears welled up in her weathered eyes. She reached out with trembling, wrinkled hands, grasping mine like a frightened child.
"Elena... Grandma caused trouble for you again. I made a jar of homemade peanut butter for you, but it smashed on the floor..."
A sharp lump formed in my throat.
Last week, after spending three straight nights pulling financial reports for Ethan, Grandma had called me. I casually mentioned missing the homemade peanut butter she used to make for me when I was a kid. I had no idea she took it to heart.
She had traveled all the way from her small rural town in Ohio to Chicago—taking a local bus, an interstate bus, and then a train.
A grueling journey that exhausted even young people, yet she undertook it all by herself.
Grandma gently touched my cheek.
"Elena, if you're being mistreated at that fancy firm, just quit and come home with me. Grandma has pension money. I can take care of you."
A chilling realization struck me.
"Grandma... you went to my office address, didn't you?"
"Who pushed you? Who caused your stroke?"
Before Grandma could answer, Ethan's voice drifted in from the doorway.
"It was Chloe. But she didn't mean to."
Ethan pushed the door open, followed closely by Chloe. He carried a basket of organic fruit and a slice of my favorite chocolate mousse cake.
Setting the basket down, he stepped close to me.
"Look, Elena, you nearly killed Chloe and our baby earlier, but I convinced her not to press charges. In exchange, Chloe had another panic attack and accidentally bumped into your grandma. You drop it, and we'll call it even."
When rage reaches an absolute boiling point, all you can do is laugh.
"A panic attack? She has anxiety, Ethan, not rabies! She intentionally assaulted an elderly woman! I am calling the police right now and letting the law teach that manipulative bitch a lesson!"
A sharp, deafening slap echoed across the private room.
My head whipped to the side, my cheek burning.
Ethan stared at his own trembling hand in shock.
It was the first time in his life he had ever raised a hand against me.
All because I dared to threaten his precious Chloe.
Chloe instantly threw herself into his arms, clutching her stomach and sobbing dramatically.
"Elena, how could you think so poorly of me? I'm your best friend! Why would I ever hurt your grandma on purpose? You know I was already having an episode because you attacked me earlier!"
I didn't waste my breath arguing. I stood up, swung my arm back, and aimed a vicious slap straight at Ethan's face.
"What the hell is wrong with you?!"
Ethan’s fleeting guilt vanished, replaced instantly by blazing fury. He grabbed my arm and shoved me violently away. I fell hard against the edge of the linoleum floor.
He looked down at me with pure disdain and arrogance.
"Still throwing a tantrum? Don't forget, Elena, you're still just a probation analyst at Vance Capital."
I stared at him, my voice deadly calm.
"You really think I can't survive without Vance Capital?"
He scoffed, looking at me like I was a delusional child.
"Are you serious? Do you honestly believe those elite clients signed deals because of your mediocre talent?"
"Elena, you're a grown woman. Stop being so pathetic and naive. If you weren't parading around as the future Mrs. Vance, backed by the entire Vance family name, who the hell would look twice at an entry-level female analyst straight out of college?"
I covered my face, shielding the hot tears spilling from my eyes.
My blood, my sweat, the sleepless nights I sacrificed to build his corporate empire... to him, it was all just a handout to the "boss's girlfriend."
I was never a partner. I was just a pet.
"Ethan..." Chloe whimpered nervously, tugging at his jacket. "Maybe I should just turn myself in. Elena will never forgive me."
Ethan gently pulled her close, kissing her hair.
"We have a flight to Miami tomorrow morning for your appointment with the specialist. As long as I'm here, no one touches a hair on your head."
He rubbed Chloe's stomach tenderly, but his icy glare remained fixed on me.
"Cool your head, Elena. When Chloe and I return from Miami, I expect you to have your emotions under control."
"Don't disappoint me."
With that, Ethan guided Chloe out of the hospital room.
I used my savings to pay for Grandma's medical expenses. Just then, an alert popped up on my phone:
[Flight to London departs in 2 hours.]
I took a deep, steadying breath.
I rolled my luggage toward the exit, opened my laptop, and began reviewing the advanced hedge fund portfolios Professor Catherine had sent over.
I was heading to the global stage.
And I would prove to every single one of them:
I, Elena, was never Ethan Vance's trophy.
I was a financial predator.
Chapters (4)
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Watch & Promotions
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