I'm Ethan Hunter's long-suffering girlfriend, a fact well-known among those in our circle.

For a decade, I stood by him as he rose from poverty to become a prominent figure in the business world.

I believed we would eventually marry, until he began frequenting nightclubs and spending time with other women.

The scent of perfume on him became more prominent than the aroma of the meals I prepared at home.

While I suffered from midnight stomach pains, he was in bed with someone else.

When I caught him kissing another woman, he dismissed it as just a game.

After waiting ten years for a proposal, he instead placed a ring on someone else's finger.

If that's the case, then let's both move on with our lives.

But then he showed up with his men, trying to disrupt my marriage.

Observing this scene, someone beside me calmly remarked, "Kneel down and apologize to my wife!"

"Whose perfume are you wearing?" I asked, clenching my fists and fighting back tears.

The aroma of the food lingered in the air, but it couldn't mask the scent of jasmine that clung to Ethan.

We had been together for ten years, from our college days to the corporate world.

Recently, he landed a big contract and transformed into a rising star in the business community.

He had social engagements every day, yet he still came home for dinner.

But after those outings, he always smelled of various perfumes, a mix of different women.

I never confronted him about it until now; lately, there was only one scent on him—the floral fragrance he never used to wear.

Ethan sat across from me, irritated as he kicked his chair. "Can you just eat in peace?" He muttered, not bothering to look up as he shoveled food into his mouth.

I noticed the marks on his collar and, in a fit of anger, I slammed my fork down. "I'm asking whose perfume that is!"

To my surprise, the usually gentle Ethan tossed his fork aside and stood up to face me. "Can you stop making a scene? With all my social events, how am I supposed to know whose perfume it is?"

I turned away with a scoff, wiping away the tears that had started to fall.

I walked up to him and tugged at his collar. "And what about this? You don't know who left these marks?"

I caught a flicker of panic in his eyes, sending a chill through me.

But he quickly regained his composure.

"Is this really why you can't let me eat in peace?" He pulled his collar back and looked down at me with disdain. "Emma Johnson, you're really disappointing me."

With that, he grabbed his coat from the sofa and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

I stared at the steaming food on the table, forcing myself to take bites through my tears.

When my phone buzzed, I hurriedly picked it up, hoping it was him apologizing.

In the past, he would always come back within ten minutes when I was upset.

But when I opened the message, reality hit hard. "Emma, just take some time to cool off. I won't be home tonight."

Looking at the untouched food around me, my appetite vanished.

I had been with Ethan since I was 18; now I was 28.

His mother had passed away early in his life, and his father had started a new family that neglected him entirely.

After graduation, when Ethan expressed his desire to start a business, I immediately supported him without hesitation.

Coming from a comfortable background, I invested all my savings into his startup as seed money.

In those early days when no one wanted to join him, I became his right hand—taking on any task that needed doing and shielding him from external pressures.

When my parents pressured me to return home for arranged dates and I refused, we fought fiercely.

They cut off all support after that argument.

Those years were our toughest times together.

Yet despite everything, leaving him never crossed my mind.

I continued to wake up early and work hard alongside him while offering encouragement because Ethan truly treated me well.

He remembered all my preferences and never argued with me; he was ambitious too.

Even when he only had ten dollars left in his pocket, he would give it all to me.

He promised that one day we would live in a big villa together.

Now we lived in that villa, but he was gone.

Scrolling through my Instagram feed reminded me of our beautiful past together.

I doubted that had I misunderstood him this night?

As nostalgia washed over me with memories of happier times, my heart grew heavier.

So I decided that tomorrow I'd go see him and extend an olive branch.

This thought lifted my spirits considerably.

The next day, dressed to impress, I went to his office only to find out that Ethan wasn't there.

Although disappointed, I put on a brave face and treated everyone at the office to coffee as the boss's girlfriend should.

After chatting with a few acquaintances, I learned he was at a club where he often entertained clients.

With renewed determination and a smile plastered on my face, I went there hoping for reconciliation—but little did I know that this visit would shatter any chance we had of making amends.

I was standing at the door, blocked from entering, while Ethan's phone went unanswered and his texts remained unread.

All I could do was wait with the security guard for him to come out.

Maybe fate was telling us we weren't meant to be.

Just then, a server carelessly left the door ajar, allowing me to overhear Ethan's voice inside.

What I heard made my heart drop. "Married? To who? Emma? Don't joke around," he laughed, followed by a chorus of chuckles from his friends.

Ethan continued, "You really think she's good enough for me now?"

My stomach twisted at his words.

It felt like all those years of shared struggles had been nothing but my own delusion.

His friends kept calling my name, but he referred to me as "the old ball and chain," a term that only deepened my humiliation.

Then came the worst part, "Honestly, I don't know why I even bother with her. She's just a burden."

At that moment, I was determined not to ruin his business deal, so I kept calling him, but he hung up each time.

The conversation inside grew increasingly vulgar, and someone suggested that Ethan share me with them.

He just laughed and nodded in agreement.

Suddenly, the server reached for the door to close it.

Our eyes met, and I couldn't hold back any longer.

"Let go!" I shouted.

The server quickly released the door, and I pushed it open with force.

Inside, my eyes scanned the room in shock.

There were so many people present.

But my gaze immediately landed on Ethan.

Everyone was watching him as he held someone in his arms, sharing a passionate kiss that felt like a dagger to my heart.

I turned away, choking back my emotions while weighing my options.

Gripping my phone tightly, I hurled it at them with all my might.

It shattered on impact, but Ethan didn't even look up.

The crowd finally recognized me; gasps filled the air as his friends called out to him while he continued kissing her without a care.

Moments later, half the room had cleared out, leaving only a few of his friends and some unfamiliar faces behind.

My anger boiled over; I had no intention of letting this go on any longer.

Grabbing a nearby microphone, I shouted, "Ethan!"

He froze for a second before turning around, confusion etched on his face.

After a tense pause, he frowned and asked, "What are you doing here?"

I stepped closer, towering over him as I replied coldly, "What do you think? I came to watch your little show."

His pride was clearly bruised; he scowled and told me to go home.

I glanced at the girl in his arms—she looked young and innocent.

As I approached them, the familiar scent of jasmine hit me like a wave.

It was her—the one who had taken my place.

I glared at her fiercely. "What are you looking at? You're the mistress now; you should leave immediately."

Tears welled up in her eyes as she glanced at Ethan for support.

Ethan opened his mouth to speak but hesitated. I knew what he wanted to say before he could even utter it.

Before he could finish his thought, my hand flew across his face with a sharp slap.

"What's wrong? You've replaced me with her? You're feeling sorry for her now?"

The girl took off running with her bag in hand.

Ethan's expression darkened as he stood up and rubbed his jaw.

"We were just playing a game; can you not make this difficult?"

Even now, he was still making excuses.

I took a deep breath and fixed my hair before locking eyes with him again. "Playing a game?"

He nodded earnestly, trying to justify himself.

In an act of defiance and desperation, I grabbed the collar of the nearest guy beside him and kissed him passionately without hesitation.

In less than a second, Ethan yanked me away.

I was shocked that the guy I had just kissed didn't push me away; instead, he smiled at me.

The random guy I had picked out now seemed somewhat attractive.

Ethan gritted his teeth and asked, "What are you doing?"

I shrugged nonchalantly. "Just playing a game."

Seeing the embarrassment and discomfort in his eyes made me want to end this back-and-forth.

I pointed my finger at his chest, forcing him to step back.

"Who do you think helped you when you were broke? Who paid for the food and the roof over your head before you bought that villa? And who cleared up all your messy accounts? I've been here for ten years, supporting you while you played entrepreneur. Do you really think I'm a fool?"

Ethan had nowhere to retreat and plopped down on the sofa.

He rubbed his head in frustration. "Can you stop bringing up the past?"

His words made me laugh bitterly; I wanted to chuckle, but tears threatened to spill.

I punched him in the chest and leaned back against the table.

"What about now? Are you really going to send me off to be someone else's plaything?"

I grabbed a nearby bottle of alcohol and smashed it on the ground—the sound echoed like our shattered relationship.

I stepped closer to Ethan, our faces inches apart. "I've loved a backstabbing wolf."

The microphone dropped with a loud thud as I turned to leave, but he grabbed my hand.

"Emma, what do you mean? Everything you have—your clothes, your food—comes from me, and you're acting like a victim?"

I pulled my hand free and tried to slap him, but he caught my wrist.

I saw his other hand rise, and I wasn't about to back down; I raised my other hand in defiance.

My palm connected with his face with a sharp crack.

Ethan's head snapped sideways from the force of my slap, and that's when I noticed someone else had grabbed his raised hand.

The man spoke in a deep voice, "Ethan, be a gentleman."

To my surprise, it was the same person I had just kissed, and upon seeing his face clearly, I realized he was even more attractive than Ethan.

Ethan's cheeks were starting to redden, but he suppressed his anger and addressed the newcomer respectfully. "Yes, Kyle."

Confused, I wondered when he had acquired a friend like this.

But then again, it didn't matter; he was just my ex now.

I picked up my car keys from the floor and stormed out.

As I reached the door and spotted Ethan's car, a wave of satisfaction washed over me as I smashed his side mirror.

Feeling triumphant for a moment, I slid into my own car, but my mood quickly plummeted.

I sat there gripping the steering wheel, staring blankly ahead.

The truth was—I had been exaggerating about my family's wealth; we didn't own a big company—just some small businesses.

Ever since that explosive argument with Ethan that drove a wedge between me and my parents three years ago, I hadn't been home.

The realization hit me hard, all this for that scumbag wasn't worth it at all.

Just as I was contemplating when to visit home again, someone knocked on my window.

As I rolled it down, I thought bitterly that if it was Ethan trying to talk to me again, I'd make him stick his head in and then roll the window up on him.

But when I saw the familiar yet unfamiliar face of Ethan's friend Kyle outside my car, disappointment washed over me.

He looked polite and flashed a charming smile as he asked, "Mind if I catch a ride?"

If he weren't related to Ethan, I'd have said yes without hesitation. But since he was...

"I do mind."

He seemed unfazed by my rejection and continued speaking as if he hadn't heard me.

"If it's about Ethan, you've misunderstood; we're not close at all."

"And besides," he added with a smirk, "you did kiss me; shouldn't you take responsibility for that?"

A hint of realization dawned on me regarding his intentions as I turned to tease him back, "Are you trying to hit on me?"

He paused for a moment before responding with a grin, "Is that so wrong?"

I couldn't help but smile slightly in response. "Yes, it is."