Part 2The Woman He Couldn't Afford

Ethan didn't show up for the deposition.

But his mistress did.

"Bianca. Name your price. What will it take to make this go away?"

She was dressed head-to-toe in runway-fresh Dior, dripping in jewels that I knew for a fact were not family heirlooms. The timid girl I’d first seen clinging to my husband was gone. In her place stood a woman sculpted by Ethan's money. He had polished her well over the last three years.

"I want to speak with Ethan," I said, my voice flat.

A smug smile played on her lips. "Me being here is his statement. He's sick of you, Bianca. He can't even stand to look at you anymore."

Her eyes, cold and dismissive, swept over me. "This has always been about money, right?"

She slid a document across the polished table. A divorce settlement.

"Sign it. I talked to E, and he agreed to be generous. An extra ten million."

It was our money. Money I had helped him earn. Yet here she was, framing it as a handout, a gift she had magnanimously convinced him to bestow upon me.

I met her gaze, my own eyes turning to ice. "I said, I'll speak with Ethan."

"About what? The divorce?" She let out a light, tinkling laugh. "You've sued me for three years. And what have you gotten out of it? Nothing. In fact, every time you file a suit, Ethan feels so guilty about what I have to go through. He spoils me even more."

She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "He's bought me cars, condos… a portfolio. Honestly, I should be thanking you. These last three years have been very, very profitable. Two hundred million, all in my name."

Her gaze was pure condescension. "Why do you have to be so pathetic? Fifty million is more than fair. Don't be that woman. Take the deal while I'm in a good mood. Sign the papers and walk away." Her smile tightened. "Because if you don't, I promise you, what he offers next will be far less."

He was giving his mistress assets worth hundreds of millions, and offering me fifty million to disappear. I clung to the last shred of my dignity.

"I'm not signing anything. As long as I'm his wife, you'll always be the other woman."

"You—" Jasmine's face contorted with rage, and her hand flew towards my face.

I caught her wrist, my grip like steel. "And as long as I am legally his wife, every single dollar he gave you is marital property. You think you're going to keep that two hundred million? Enjoy it while it lasts."

"Bianca! Let her go."

Ethan. He stormed in, his face a thundercloud, and roughly wrenched my arm away, shoving me back. I stumbled, my knee cracking hard against the leg of a chair. A bolt of sharp, searing pain shot up my leg.

He didn't even glance at me. His attention was solely on Jasmine, his hands framing her face, his eyes frantic with a worry he never showed me anymore. "Are you okay? Did she hurt you?"

The arrogant woman from moments before vanished. Jasmine buried her face in his chest, her shoulders shaking with silent, theatrical sobs.

Ethan's gaze finally found me, and it was utterly devoid of warmth. "Bianca, what did I tell you? You want to fight, you fight with me. You don't touch her. Haven't you learned anything in the last three years?"