My Wife Never Knew Who I Really Was

"Ethan Cole!"

Celeste Shaw's voice cut through the cold air behind him. "You're really speaking to me in that tone now?"

Ethan stopped.

He turned around and looked at her, his expression calm enough to feel cruel.

"That tone?" he repeated lightly. "Then tell me, President Shaw. What tone exactly am I supposed to use with you?"

Celeste felt the casualness of it stab somewhere under her ribs.

She forced herself to stay composed. "You never spoke to me like this before."

"Before?" Ethan laughed once.

His voice stayed flat, as if he were reciting a fact that had nothing to do with him. "Before, we were husband and wife. What are we now?"

He did not wait for her answer.

"We're strangers," he said. "Not even friends."

Then he turned to leave.

"Wait!"

Celeste went after him almost on instinct. She stepped in front of him, spread her arms, and blocked his way.

Ethan stopped and looked down at her coldly.

They stood facing each other, less than a yard apart. Celeste lifted her chin and met those eyes that no longer carried any warmth for her, and a strange, sour feeling rose in her chest.

"We lived together for three years," she said. "Even if we can't be friends, did you really have to block my number?"

The smile on Ethan's face became clearer.

It was also sharper.

"Oh." He dragged out the word, nodding as if he had finally understood. "So that's what President Shaw wants me to explain."

Celeste pressed her lips together and said nothing.

Ethan took one step forward. The distance between them closed to less than two feet.

He leaned slightly toward her ear and asked in a teasing voice, "Tell me, President Shaw. Would you contact someone who was never meant to live in the same world as you?"

Celeste's face changed.

Of course she remembered those words.

The night before the divorce, she had said them to him herself.

You and I were never meant to be in the same world.

Back then, she had said it lightly. Firmly. As if she were giving a business conclusion.

Now that those same words came out of Ethan's mouth, they landed on her face like a slap.

Celeste bit her lip. "Fine. I admit what I said before was harsh."

She raised her head and looked straight into his eyes. "But you don't need to use this kind of method just to get my attention."

Ethan froze for half a second.

Then he laughed.

This time, he really laughed. If he had not been holding his bag, he would have shown Celeste exactly what laughing until your stomach hurt looked like.

"What are you laughing at?" Celeste asked seriously. She truly did not understand.

When Ethan finally stopped, he even raised a hand and wiped away a tear that did not exist.

"President Shaw," he said, "if you want to flatter yourself, that's your business."

He stepped around her and walked toward the gate. "Don't block my way. A good dog knows better."

"Who are you calling a dog?"

By the time Celeste reacted, Ethan was no longer in front of her. Refusing to let it go, she hurried after him.

Her heels struck the stone path in sharp, urgent taps.

The moment she chased him out of the courtyard, her expression stiffened.

She saw Ethan walking toward the silver supercar parked by the road.

Celeste did not know cars well, but even she could tell that this one was outrageously expensive. At least eight figures.

Ethan walked to the car as casually as if it were nothing. He opened the passenger door and tossed his luggage bag inside. Then he circled around the front and headed for the driver's seat.

Celeste rushed over and grabbed his arm, her tone turning into an interrogation. "Ethan, is this car yours?"

"Obviously. If it's not mine, is it yours?"

Ethan shook off her hand.

There was no gentleness in the movement. Celeste's arm was thrown aside so hard it almost felt like her shoulder might come loose.

But she could not care about that now.

"This car is worth at least ten million!" Celeste stared at him and demanded again, "Where did you get that kind of money?"

As she spoke, she looked him over carefully.

From head to toe, everything on him was a luxury brand she recognized. Any random piece of clothing was worth an ordinary person's salary for a year, maybe several years.

A horrible thought suddenly surfaced in her mind.

Her eyes widened. "After leaving me, just to enjoy a better life, you actually... you actually sold yourself? Became some rich woman's pretty boy?"

Pretty boy?

Ethan's face darkened.

"None of your damn business."

He did not bother explaining. He did not think she was worth wasting words on.

He turned to get into the car.

Celeste would not let him. She rushed after him again and spread her arms in front of him.

"Ethan, is this really what you've become? Do you have to degrade yourself like this?"

Her voice carried disappointment, pain, and a kind of anger that sounded like concern. "If you just want a better quality of life, I can give you a high-paying position at Shaw Group. You don't need to..."

"Thanks," Ethan interrupted. "No need."

He put a hand on her shoulder and pushed her aside, not hard enough to injure her, but firm enough that she had no chance to stop him.

Then he opened the door and sat in the driver's seat.

The engine roared to life.

Before leaving, Ethan looked at Celeste and said one last thing.

"President Shaw, if possible, don't contact me again."

He smiled. "My girlfriend might misunderstand."

With that, he stepped on the gas.

The supercar shot away and vanished into the night, leaving Celeste standing alone by the road.

The night wind lifted her long hair.

"Girlfriend?" she murmured blankly. "He just said... girlfriend?"

Her mind buzzed.

She opened her mouth, wanted to say something, then swallowed it back.

It took a long while before she came back to herself. Mechanically, she took out her phone, found her secretary's number, and dialed.

The call connected quickly.

"President Shaw?"

Celeste took a breath and forced her voice to sound normal. "Find out who Ethan Cole has been in contact with recently. I want details. The sooner, the better."

After hanging up, she stood there clutching her phone, her mind a mess.

For some reason, she felt awful.

Right now, Celeste did not want to think about anything else. She only wanted to know who was dragging Ethan down into that kind of life.

After so many years in this circle, how could she not know what rich women eventually did to men like Ethan?

They used their bodies, toyed with their feelings, and once they were bored, threw them away without hesitation.

Thinking of that, Celeste found Ethan's number.

She typed a message.

Think carefully. Don't waste years of your life and let someone cheat you out of both your feelings and your body.

She sent it.

After sending it, she stared at the screen for a while.

No reply.

She put the phone away and turned back toward that cold villa, empty of warmth and everyday life.

Not long ago, it had not felt like this.

Inside the villa, Celeste had just finished showering and managed to calm down a little.

As soon as she came out of the bathroom, her phone vibrated on the coffee table.

She immediately dropped the towel she had been using to dry her hair, walked over in quick steps, picked up the phone, and opened the message almost instantly.

It was indeed Ethan's reply.

But after reading it, Celeste's expression grew even uglier.

At least I won't spend three years serving someone hand and foot, never even getting the warmth a husband should have, only to be kicked out in the end.

Every word was like another slap across her face.

Author's Note:

This story will continue updating here.

If you want to read more, you can unlock it here:

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Thank you for reading.