Chapter 4The Fire That Saved Me

Ethan’s face turned purple. He swung at Will. "Who the hell are you? This is my wife! Mind your own business!"

I saw Will ready to fight back and quickly signaled him to stop. I didn't want him getting hurt or in legal trouble for me. Will backed off, reluctantly.

"I'll deal with you later," Ethan sneered at him.

He dragged me down the hall to another VIP room. Chloe was there, lying in bed. As soon as she saw me, she shrank into Ethan’s arms, trembling.

"Ethan, I'm scared! Sarah is going to yell at me! She's going to ask why I didn't die in the fire!"

I was baffled. I was the one with a hole in my leg. Why was she acting like the victim?

Ethan threw a report in my face. It was the fire investigation. The cause: an old, faulty gas valve.

"You refused to get it fixed! You tried to kill Chloe!"

I laughed. It was a hollow, broken sound.

When we got married, Ethan promised he’d do all the cooking. Six months in, he got "busy" and dumped it all on me.

Because of the IVF side effects, my back pain was severe. I couldn't stand long enough to cook, so I mostly ordered takeout. I rarely used the kitchen. I had no idea about the valve.

But in his mind, everything was my fault.

"Ethan," I looked him dead in the eye. "Are you really a man? Blaming your wife for your own negligence?"

"It's your job to manage the house!" he shouted.

How pathetic. Before marriage, I was his princess. Now, I was his scapegoat.

I was done.

"You want an apology?" I asked.

I pulled a stack of papers from my hospital gown pocket—the divorce papers I had prepared.

"Sign this, and I'll apologize."

Ethan glanced at the top page, saw 'Consent Form' (it was the IVF termination he hadn't read properly earlier, stapled to the divorce papers underneath), and signed it without looking, thinking it was hospital paperwork.

He smirked. "You really commit to the drama, don't you? Stop playing the victim."

"Kneel and apologize to Chloe! If you do, we move on. If you give her a hard time again, we're getting a divorce!"

Hearing the word "divorce," Chloe hid a smirk behind Ethan’s shoulder.

I gritted my teeth. I bent my knees.

The wound on my thigh tore open. Blood soaked through the bandages instantly. I nearly fainted from the pain.

Ethan saw the blood and flinched, reaching out instinctively. "Sarah... you're hurt?"

I slapped his hand away. "Don't touch me."

I finished the "apology," stood up, and limped out.

Ethan tried to follow, but Chloe grabbed his arm, wailing, "Ouch! My chest hurts! Ethan, help!"

He hesitated for a second, then turned back to her.

Back in my room, Will called a nurse to re-dress my wound.

After that, Ethan disappeared. I saw on Instagram that he took Chloe to Paris and Iceland. Places he promised to take me for our honeymoon but never did.

I moved out. Will helped me pack. I looked at the house where I wasted five years of my life. It felt like a tomb.

I sent a photo of the signed divorce papers and the medical report to Ethan.

Seconds later, my phone exploded.

"Sarah! What is this? When did we get divorced?"

"And... what does this medical report mean? I have... low sperm motility? I'm the one who can't have kids? Why didn't you tell me?!"