He wouldn't pounce on her—at least, not yet.
Ethan Yu had patience when he wanted something. And right now, the temptation of Hailey Tang lying just within reach, tangled up in a mess of pillows and pride, was too delicious to ruin with haste.
Slowly. He'd take his time. Rushing would only scare her off.
But Hailey, entirely unaware of the storm brewing in his mind, shoved him aside with a scowl. "If you're done talking, get out of the way."
Ethan stepped back, a smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth, though his voice was tinted with something bitter. "Funny. Weren't you the one who used to beg me to stay close?"
Her hand was already on the zipper of her suitcase, back turned to him. "That was the old me, Ethan. I'm not that girl anymore."
Silence hit like a slap.
For a long second, he just stared at her, as if trying to read something behind her words, between her shoulder blades. Something he'd missed.
But whatever he was looking for… wasn't there.
And just like that, the air turned heavy. Thicker. Tense.
They both opened their suitcases at the same time, avoiding each other's eyes.
Hailey dug through her clothes—until her fingers wrapped around something that wasn't hers.
Wait. What the hell?
She yanked out a pair of… men's boxers?
One after another, like some kind of cursed magic trick. Black, grey, even one with a Batman logo.
"What the—?!" she gasped, holding them up with an expression of horror.
Ethan looked up, puzzled—until he glanced down into his own suitcase. His brows furrowed.
There, in neat little rolls, were delicate, lacy—very feminine—underthings.
His hand dipped in, pulled out a pair of red lace panties. Sheer. Tiny. Embarrassingly sexy.
Then another—black this time, with a silk ribbon. Then a third. By the fourth, Ethan's lips twitched.
"Jesus Christ," he murmured, holding up the red one with two fingers like it was a rare artifact. "These yours?"
Hailey's face went nuclear.
"Don't look at those!" she shrieked, lunging forward and grabbing everything she could from his hands.
In her panic, one fell. The most scandalous one.
Hailey dove to snatch it, but Ethan was faster. He picked it up, holding it up to the light, inspecting every cut and curve of the cloth.
"Ethan Yu!" she yelled, red-faced and wild. "Give. It. Back!"
But he just tilted his head, examining the tiny strap. "Interesting taste, Hailey. Didn't know you were into this sort of thing. Were you trying to leave me clues? A little seduction by suitcase?"
"It wasn't me!" she shouted, mortified. "I didn't pack it—must've been Auntie Zhang, she… she must've mixed things up!"
Ethan raised a brow, clearly unconvinced. "So, you're saying your housekeeper accidentally packed your lingerie into my suitcase? And gave me your panties?"
"Don't be disgusting!"
"I'm not the one carrying an entire collection of bedroom fantasies in her luggage," he said coolly, arms crossed now. "Though I won't complain if you model them for me tonight."
Hailey froze.
That word.
That name.
"Did you just call me—your wife?" she whispered.
His eyes didn't waver. "You are my wife."
Her laugh was sharp and bitter. She stepped back, each word slicing like glass. "You calling me that… it makes me sick."
His face hardened. "What did you just say?"
"You make me sick, Ethan!" she shouted, voice breaking. "Do you think you can toss that word at me now, like it means something? Where was that when I loved you? When I was desperately trying to make this marriage work? You brushed me off like I was nothing!"
His hands clenched into fists at his sides.
"I'm not your wife," she hissed. "I may wear the title, but that's all it is. A title. The biggest mistake of my life was marrying you. Loving you. Thinking you'd ever treat me like I mattered."
Ethan's breath stilled.
Hailey wiped away tears furiously. Her pride wouldn't let them fall.
"I'm done pretending," she whispered. "I don't want this. I don't want you. I want a divorce. I want it now."
She stormed toward the door, as if expecting someone—anyone—to magically appear and hand her the papers.
Ethan said nothing for several seconds. Then his voice, low and dangerous, filled the room.
"You think I'm going to just let you walk away?"
Hailey froze.
"I didn't want you before, that's true. But don't you dare think I'm going to stand here and let you hate me now. Not like this."
She turned, her eyes wet but defiant. "What, now you care? Now that I've stopped begging? Now that I've finally started choosing myself?"
"You think you know everything," he snapped. "But you don't know what I felt, what I had to deal with. You think love is enough to fix everything? You think I wasn't—"
"Wasn't what?" she cut in. "Brave enough to love me back? Man enough to fight for your own damn marriage?"
His jaw clenched. He looked like he wanted to say something, but couldn't.
Couldn't—or wouldn't.
Hailey shook her head, chest rising and falling rapidly. "We're done, Ethan. I'm not your possession. I'm not your charity case. And I'm definitely not your wife."
She turned her back on him, walked straight into the bathroom, and slammed the door shut.
Ethan stood alone in the suite, surrounded by open luggage, lacy humiliation, and the bitter stench of everything he never said.
He stared at the door she'd disappeared behind.
And for the first time in years…
He felt cold.
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