After refusing to pay the ransom for me, he regretted it

I loved Ethan for ten years, a secret lover with no name or status.

Everyone said I was like Ethan’s dog, coming and going at his beck and call.

Then I was kidnapped. Ethan didn't save me. Someone had joked, "Are you in love with her or something?" Ethan, to prove he wasn't, turned off his phone.

Enraged, the kidnappers assaulted me. My month-old baby, lost in the violence, became nothing more than a stain.

At a devastating cost, I finally learned to stay away from Ethan.

But then, Ethan knelt before me, saying he regretted everything.

1

The day I stumbled back, bloodied and broken, someone filmed me and posted it online.

Ethan’s lover, a famous actress, barely clothed, covered in blood – it was the most explosive news imaginable.

I watched, expressionless, as countless phones captured my ugliness, my vulnerability. But my heart was still, a stagnant pool, incapable of a ripple.

The crowd, buzzing with excitement, bombarded me with questions. "Ashley, we heard you were kidnapped. What happened to you?"

"Were you…assaulted?"

"By one guy? Or more?"

I stood silent, offering no answers.

Just as the crowd grew impatient, shoving closer, a commotion erupted behind them. A group of men in black suits, Ethan's security detail, pushed through.

Leading them was Ethan’s right-hand man, David.

He saw my condition, quickly draped his jacket around me, and said in a low voice,

"Ms. Grant, Mr. Walker is waiting for you at home. Please come with me."

I glanced at the jacket, nodded, and allowed them to escort me through the crowd.

My stomach ached. With every step, another surge of warmth flowed down my leg, staining the asphalt with crimson flowers.

David saw the bloody footprints and hesitated. "Ms. Grant, should I ask Mr. Walker if we can take you to the hospital first?"

I shook my head, biting back the pain.

What was the point? I was a walking corpse. If I died, no one would shamelessly cling to Ethan anymore. He’d finally be rid of me.

Wasn't that what he wanted?

2

The car stopped. I was back at Ethan's house.

Just a few days gone, yet it felt like a lifetime. My last memory of this place felt like a relic from another century.

Ethan sat on the sofa, elegantly sipping tea. His tailored suit fit perfectly, making him look almost ethereal.

Beside him, I, covered in filth, was a clown who'd tried to reach for him and fallen spectacularly.

I should have known. Ethan and I were never meant to be in the same world. I foolishly thought love could bridge the gap.

Thankfully, reality had slapped me awake.

Hearing us, Ethan looked up, his face a mask of disbelief.

"Ashley? What happened to you?"

I smiled faintly.

Yes, when they grabbed me, I’d called him first, desperately hoping he’d be my savior. But another voice on the line had joked, “Whoa, Ethan, why so worried? Don’t tell me you’re in love with that girl.”

I’d held my breath, waiting for his answer.

Ethan had scoffed. "Love her? Please. She’s a plaything. Dead or alive, she ...