“Then why me?” I asked.
Ethan lowered his gaze.
“Because you never looked at me with pity.”
The answer surprised me.
“In three years,” he continued, “you never tried to take advantage of the family. You never pushed yourself forward. When my mother said we needed a wife who could keep things quiet, I thought you might accept for the money. I hated myself for thinking that… but I also knew that if anyone could live this arrangement with dignity, it was you.”
Silence filled the room.
I had believed I was the only one sacrificing something—my pride, my freedom, my dreams.
But Ethan had sacrificed something long before I ever arrived.
The right to feel normal.
“What do you expect from me?” I finally asked.
“Respect,” he said. “Attend public events with me. Maintain the image. Beyond that… we both live our own lives. The house in Lake Tahoe is yours regardless. If you want to leave after a year, I won’t stop you.”
It wasn’t really a marriage.
It was a pact.
But strangely, that honesty gave me peace.