Awkward laughter followed. Shame burned through Ethan as he gripped the wheels of his chair.
Behind him, Lily placed a steady hand on the back of the wheelchair. She said nothing, but her presence shielded him from the humiliation.
That was when something inside him finally broke.
The next morning, the mansion was silent. Victoria still slept upstairs. Ethan sat in his study, staring at the wheelchair—no longer a prop, but a symbol of his own doubt.
He called her down. When she appeared, scrolling through her phone, he said calmly, “We need to talk.”
“Can it wait? I have brunch—”
“No.”
He looked at her, then slowly stood up.
Victoria froze. Her phone slipped from her hand. “You’re… not—?”
“I’m not paralyzed,” Ethan said. “I needed to know whether you loved me or my fortune. Now I do.”
Her shock turned to anger. “You lied to me. That’s cruel.”
“No more cruel than pretending to love someone you never truly cared about.”
Within an hour, she was gone—clothes packed, jewelry left behind.
Ethan felt no triumph. Only exhaustion.
A soft voice came from the doorway. “Sir?” Lily stood there with his breakfast tray, staring at him in disbelief.
“I guess you know now,” he said.