On our fifth wedding anniversary, my husband smiled, kissed my forehead, and announced in front of twenty laughing friends that he had lost a game of Truth or Dare, so his punishment was to divorce me. Then, as if ending a marriage were no more serious than losing a hand of poker, Nick Mercer pushed a handsome stranger toward me and said, “Don’t worry, Ella. He can keep you company until we get remarried.”
Chapter 3
I should have been frightened by Ethan’s confession.
Instead, I felt strangely safe.
He didn’t pretend we were destined for each other. He didn’t demand gratitude because he had admired me from afar. He simply admitted that when he heard Nick was treating my marriage like a wager, he stepped into the path Nick had opened.
“I’m not asking you to love me,” Ethan said. “I’m asking for the chance to earn whatever comes next.”
That was the first time in years a man had offered me patience instead of certainty.
Three weeks later, our marriage stopped feeling contractual.
It happened gradually. Coffee on the terrace. Long walks above the cliffs. Ethan making my father laugh despite Dad’s best efforts not to. Me remembering how it felt to speak without calculating whether my husband would become bored.
One rainy evening, Ethan kissed me.
He stopped immediately afterward.
“Tell me if that was a mistake.”
I pulled him back.
“It wasn’t.”
A month later, I woke before dawn and barely made it to the bathroom before getting sick.
Ethan was beside me within seconds, holding my hair and pressing a cool washcloth to my neck.
Two hours later, a doctor placed a lab report in my hands.
Pregnant.
I stared at the page until the letters blurred.
Ethan knelt in front of me.
“Ella.”
“I’m scared.”
“I know.”
“This happened so fast.”
“I know.”
“What if everything falls apart again?”
He squeezed my hands.
“Then we deal with whatever falls apart. But you won’t deal with it alone.”
I started crying.
Ethan did too.
That was when the final ghost of Nick disappeared.
Over the following six months, Dad discovered something about Ethan that neither of us expected.
He had an extraordinary mind for logistics.
The quiet former architecture intern had spent years teaching himself data modeling, maritime routing, and supply-chain technology. Dad put him through a merciless series of tests before offering him a position in a new subsidiary called Vanguard Maritime.
Ethan flourished.
Meanwhile, Nick’s world began shrinking.
I learned pieces of it from business reports and mutual acquaintances.
Mercer Logistics lost contracts. Costs rose. Nick poured money into maintaining the lifestyle Selena expected—weekends in Aspen, designer clothes, exclusive clubs, expensive dinners.
The woman he had remembered as the love of his life had apparently become accustomed to richer men in Paris.
Nick kept spending because losing Selena twice was unthinkable.
He also kept trying to contact me.
Calls.
Emails.
Messages from unfamiliar numbers.
I blocked them all.
The strangest part was that he still seemed convinced I would return.
One night, according to Mason, Nick sat drinking in his penthouse and said, “Ella’s angry. That’s all. She’s never loved anybody but me.”
Mason finally asked, “What if she has?”
Nick laughed.
“She hasn’t.”
His certainty outlived our marriage.
Eight months after the divorce, Dad hosted the annual Gomez Foundation gala in Manhattan.
It was part charity event, part business summit, and part ritual display of wealth that I had avoided since my twenties.
That year, I agreed to attend.
At eight months pregnant, hiding was no longer an option anyway.
Ethan stood beside me at the top of the ballroom staircase in a midnight tuxedo.
“You okay?” he whispered.
“I feel like a parade float.”
“You look beautiful.”
“That sounded suspiciously husband-like.”
“I’ve been practicing.”
The master of ceremonies introduced my father.
Then Ethan.
Then me.
“Mrs. Ella Gomez Taylor.”
Applause rose from the ballroom.
Halfway down the staircase, I saw Nick.
His champagne glass tilted in his hand.
Selena stood beside him in a red gown.
Nick stared at me as though I had returned from the dead.
His gaze moved from my face to Ethan.
Then to my stomach.
The color drained from him.
When we reached the floor, executives surrounded Dad and Ethan. People congratulated us on the baby.
Then I heard my name.
“Ella!”
The room quieted.
Nick pushed through the crowd.
Security moved toward him, but Ethan lifted a hand.
Nick stopped several feet away.
His eyes were red.
“What is this?”
Nobody answered.
He looked at Dad.
Then at me.
Then back at Dad.
Alexander’s voice was cold.
“Watch your tone when you speak to my daughter.”
Nick’s face went blank.
“Your… daughter?”
I almost pitied him.
Almost.
He looked around the ballroom as though the chandeliers and marble columns had transformed into evidence against him.
“You’re a Gomez?”
“Yes.”
“For five years?”
“For my entire life.”
His mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
Then his eyes fell again to my stomach.
His shock became something uglier.
“No.”
He stepped toward me.
“Ella, no. We were taking a break.”
“A divorce isn’t a break.”
“It was the dare.”
“You staged the dare.”
His face changed.
He knew.
“You heard us.”
“Yes.”
“Ella, listen to me. Selena coming back confused me. I made a mistake.”
Selena stiffened beside him.
Nick didn’t notice.
“We had five years,” he continued desperately. “You loved me. You said you believed marriage was forever.”
“I did.”
“Then how could you do this?”
I stared at him.
“Do what?”
“Fall in love with somebody else!”
The ballroom had become utterly silent.
Nick’s voice cracked.
“You wouldn’t even look at other men. You were obsessed with fidelity.”
I looked at Ethan.
He knew what I was about to do before I moved.
I rose carefully on my toes, wrapped my arms around his neck, and kissed him.
Not to punish Nick.
Not anymore.
I kissed my husband because I loved him.
When Ethan pulled back, his forehead touched mine.
Our daughter kicked.
I laughed softly.
Behind us, Nick made a strangled sound.
“How could you?”
I turned.
His eyes were wet now.
“How could you let him touch you? How could you carry his child?”
I rested one hand on my belly.
“You’re the one who put me in his bed, Nick. Don’t you remember?”
His face collapsed.
Ethan stepped between us.
“Eight months ago, you clapped me on the shoulder and told me to take care of her.”
Nick glared at him.
Ethan’s voice remained calm.
“I did.”
Selena suddenly moved forward.
“This was Nick’s idea,” she said.
Nick turned.
“What?”
She ignored him and addressed Ethan.
“I had no idea what he was doing. He told me the marriage was already ending.”
“Selena.”
She shoved Nick’s hand away.
“You lied to everybody.”
Nick stared at her.
“I destroyed my marriage for you.”
“And whose fault was that?”
His expression turned desperate.
“I spent everything trying to make you happy.”
Selena laughed.
“Exactly. Everything. And now there’s nothing left.”
A murmur moved through the room.
Nick went pale.
“What are you talking about?”
“Mercer Logistics is almost bankrupt.”
His mouth opened.
Selena continued, merciless now that the illusion had broken.
“You thought I came back because of some childhood romance? I came back because everyone said you were successful.”
Nick looked as though she had struck him.
Dad had heard enough.
He motioned toward security.
“Escort them out.”
Nick panicked.
“Mr. Gomez, wait. I came here about the Vanguard subcontract.”
“That discussion is over.”
“You can’t destroy my company because of a personal issue.”
Dad’s expression did not change.
“Your company is failing because of debt, poor management, and lost contracts. Don’t give my daughter credit for work you did yourself.”
Security took Nick by the arms.
He fought them.
“Ella!”
I turned away.
“We had five years!”
I leaned against Ethan’s shoulder.
The ballroom doors closed behind Nick.
And that was the last time I saw him as the man who had once controlled my heart.
