“Marry? Me? Not anytime soon, that’s for sure!” Ethan laughed, swirling the last sip of wine in his glass. “Why would I? My life’s just about perfect. The flat’s spotless, the fridge is full of gourmet meals, and my clothes? Always ironed and hung like I’ve got a live-in butler.”
James, his older brother, raised an eyebrow, nursing his drink. “And Lucy’s alright with that? Playing housemaid without the ring?”
Ethan smirked. “She doesn’t know, does she? I keep telling her the wedding’s just around the corner. You’d be surprised how easy it is to come up with reasons to push it back.”
He launched into his greatest hits. First, it was their mother’s sudden “illness”—an award-worthy performance from a perfectly healthy woman who was happy to help her darling son dodge the altar. That bought them six quiet months.
But when even fake illnesses lose their sting, Ethan got creative. Next came the fabricated car crash—his vehicle wrecked, though he walked away unscathed. For Lucy, he painted a different picture: a legal mess, a high-powered driver threatening to sue, a mountain of imaginary debt.
Lucy, terrified and loyal, picked up extra shifts. She hardly slept, worked herself to the bone, trying to help him. And Ethan? He watched. Said nothing. Let it play out.
When the “debt” was finally “paid,” Lucy gently started hinting at wedding plans again. So Ethan pivoted—now it was trouble at work, a potential layoff looming.
“Another year or two of this,” he said with a yawn, “and who knows.”
James stared at him. “But why? You’ve said it yourself—Lucy’s amazing. Keeps the place running, cooks like a pro—what more do you want?”
Ethan leaned back, eyes drifting lazily to a fly crawling up the wall. “Yeah, she’s efficient. But she’s boring.”
“Boring?”
“She’s no fun. Doesn’t drink, hates nights out, nags me about it constantly. And honestly? She’s not exactly a head-turner. I’ll keep her around until someone better comes along.” He gave a lazy shrug. “Hard to settle when you’ve got options.”
What Ethan didn’t know was that Lucy was standing just beyond the doorway. Hidden by shadows.
Her breath caught. Tears slid silently down her face. She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. She’d only woken because the house was freezing and he wasn’t in bed. Curious, maybe even hopeful, she’d gone to find him.
Now she wished she hadn’t.
She had worked herself ragged tonight—twenty people fed, most of the food cooked by her while Ethan’s supposedly frail mother reclined in the living room, barking instructions. Lucy hadn’t even sat down to eat. She’d collapsed into bed hours ago, too exhausted to think.
And this… this is what he thought of her?
“My friends warned me,” she whispered to herself, voice tight. “I defended him. Fought with them. God, was I really this blind?”
She paced, mind racing. Everything in the flat? Paid for in part with her wages—but nothing in her name. No contract. No marriage. Five years, and not a thing to show for it.
Enough.
Within minutes, she was dressed and calling a cab—one that arrived almost instantly. A sign, she told herself. She was finally doing the right thing.
Back at the flat, she packed fast. Her suitcase snapped shut, and she checked the time. Still a few minutes before her father—her emergency driver—would arrive. Just enough time for one last favor.
Ethan’s prized suits were first. Yanked off the hangers, tossed onto the floor. A flowerpot “accidentally” knocked over, soil smeared into the fabric with a well-placed stomp.
Then the fridge. Shelves packed with meals she’d planned, bought, cooked. She opened the freezer and began filling a cooler bag. He wasn’t keeping any of it.
Not this time.