He tossed me onto the bed in the adjacent room connected to his office.

Leaning over, he loosened his tie with one hand, the dark red silk slipping through his fingers.

I had a feeling that I had interrupted his meeting, and now, he was irritated.

After all, he wasn’t always so indulgent with me.

"Did you miss me that much today?"

My long hair spilled across the bed, and he toyed with it, wrapping the strands around his fingers.

I looked at him in silence.

"Ethan, do you have any milk in your office?"

He paused, clearly not expecting that question.

This lounge seemed to be his private space, connected to his office.

The scattered dress shirts and suits on the bed all belonged to him.

After a moment, he pulled a carton of milk from the fridge and handed it to me.

"Ran out of milk at home…?"

He never got to finish his sentence because I snatched the milk from his hand.

Twisting off the cap, I poured it straight over his head.

For a second, he froze.

Honestly, he could have dodged it.

But he didn’t. He let me empty the entire carton over him without moving an inch.

I tilted my head up to look at him.

And damn it—even like this, he still looked good.

"Ethan Chambers, this is exactly how you once poured milk over my head."

I spoke each word slowly and deliberately.

…

Maybe no one else had ever seen him this disheveled before.

Milk dripped down his brow as he pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek.

In the end, he only let out a soft chuckle.

When he reached for another carton from the fridge, I still hadn’t realized what he was about to do.

But the moment he twisted off the cap, my eyes widened slightly, finally catching on.

The liquid was ice-cold, fresh from the fridge.

When he poured it over my head, a shiver ran through me involuntarily.

It trickled down my chin and seeped into my collar.

The cold milk didn’t feel quite the same as I remembered.

…

I once overheard the housekeeper whispering that I was crazy for refusing such a good marriage.

But the man in front of me, Ethan, was clearly crazier than I was.

Maybe I had stood frozen for too long.

After pouring the milk, he still had the presence of mind to brush a stray lock of hair from my cheek.

"Now, you're just like me."

I shoved him away.

"Alice, you know better than to make me angry, don’t you?"

He only had to grip my chin, and I didn’t dare move.

To be honest, I wasn’t exactly afraid of him.

I just didn’t want him to be angry.

It was a strange feeling—maybe I hated the consequences, or maybe the impression he left on me was just too deep.

He lifted me into his arms and carried me into the bathroom.

The rising steam blurred the figure before me, the shifting light too dazzling to make out his features.

"Ethan, it’s been seven years. Why did you come back for me?"

My voice was hoarse as I asked him. I felt like I couldn’t go on anymore.

As always, his answer was silence.

…

He laid me down on the bed.

He even took the time to carefully tuck the blanket around me.

I hadn’t been sleeping well these past few days.

I could barely remember the last time I fell asleep peacefully.

While we were in the bathroom, someone already replaced the bedding with fresh sheets—ones without Ethan’s scent.

Strangely, I drifted off faster than before.

My dreams were scattered and fragmented, waves of memories from high school crashing over me.

Drifting between sleep and wakefulness, I caught the sound of voices nearby.

Two young women, probably the cleaning staff, were whispering.

"Hey, do you know who that woman was, the one who barged into the meeting earlier?"

"She’s Miss Quinn, Mr. Chambers’ fiancée."

"What? She’s so rude, though."

"He spoils her."

"Why? I’ve never even seen her before, and she’s supposed to be the future lady of the house?"

"It’s just a rumor that I’ve heard. They said he found her a few weeks ago."

"Because she looks exactly like Mr. Chambers’ first love."

"He couldn’t have the real thing, so he settled for the next best option…"

…

When I woke again, the sky outside was awash with fiery red clouds, their glow spilling into the room.

The soft rustle of pages turning wasn’t loud, but the moment I stirred, he heard me.

The back of his hand brushed against my forehead.

"You have a fever. Why didn’t you drink the milk this morning?"

I opened my mouth but found it hard to make a sound.

My throat burned and my whole body was dry and weak.

All I could do was shake my head.

Ethan let out a quiet chuckle before lifting me into his arms.

He had changed into fresh clothes, and there was no trace of smoke on him.

He paid attention to details—almost to an obsessive degree.

He knew I hated the smell of cigarettes, so he never smoked around me.

"I don’t drink milk anymore."

As he placed me in the backseat of the car, I finally forced the words out, despite how much it hurt to speak.

He froze for a second.

Then he let out a sharp laugh, somewhere between amused and exasperated.

"Do you have to go against me on everything?"

I was speechless.

Maybe he was right.

Maybe I just wanted to see him lose his mind and finally throw me away.

But I couldn’t be bothered to say another word.

Instead, I curled back into my seat.

The car started moving, and outside the window, drifting clouds streaked past.

The fiery red glow on the horizon burned like it could set my heart ablaze at any moment.

…

Ethan took me home.

Someone was sitting on the living room sofa.

I tried to recall the first time I had met Lily Shaws, but there was no moment that stood out.

I only knew one thing—we looked alike.

So, I just stood there and watched as, the moment she saw Ethan, the girl on the sofa shot to her feet and threw herself into his arms.

For half a minute, silence stretched between them.

Ethan stood frozen, unmoving.

Her loose strands of hair brushed against his neck as she clung to him, her voice bright and cheerful.

"Ethan, I’m back."

The girl in his arms remained motionless, and it was me who finally broke the silence.

"She said she’s back."

Ethan’s throat bobbed.

After a long pause, his voice came out rough and strained.

"You… came back."

I had never seen him this shaken before.

Confused and… defeated.

The girl moved into the villa.

She was always by Ethan’s side, never straying far from him.

Sometimes, I would think back to the conversation I overheard in his office that day.

They said I was just a substitute for his first love.

And yet, Ethan still hadn’t given up on marrying me.

The only difference was that where there used to be just the two of us at the dinner table, now Lily sat between us.

She even followed him to work.

She was the type who loved to talk, always filling the silence with her voice.

I didn’t understand.

His first love was back.

If I was really just a replacement, then why wouldn’t he let me go?

Or did he plan to keep me by his side, just like before, to continue tormenting me?

…

Ethan had been coming home late these past few days.

Tonight, he seemed a little drunk.

I didn’t see any sign of Lily, but his clothes were slightly disheveled.

His tie hung loose, and he had pushed back his tousled hair with a careless hand.

The dim living room light washed over his skin, making it look pale and cold.

The skin beneath his brows was flushed red, his eyes burning.

The moment he saw me, he let out a soft chuckle.

"Alice, you’re getting harder and harder to control."

He pressed me against the sofa, yet even now, he still placed a hand on my waist to keep me from hitting the armrest.

His gaze was dark, like a raging storm.

"Where’s Lily Shaws?"

I tilted my head up and asked, but he only scoffed lightly.

"She’s gone."

"You left the house with her this morning."

"I got rid of her a long time ago."

A strange, unnameable feeling stirred in my chest.

I looked away, unwilling to meet his eyes.

His forehead lightly rested against mine.

For a fleeting moment, I thought I saw a glimmer of wetness in his dark eyes.

"Alice, you didn’t drink your milk today, did you? Did you throw it away as soon as I left?"

I stayed silent.

Yes, I hadn’t touched milk in days.

Maybe I was just as stubborn as Ethan—once I didn’t want to do something, no one could make me.

But Ethan never cared whether I was willing or not.

A fresh glass of warm milk was soon placed in front of me.

He sat across from me, staring intently.

"Drink it."

I knew the milk itself didn’t matter.

What mattered to him was whether I would listen.

I pressed my lips together, refusing to look at him.

Over the past few weeks, I tried to resist, but the outcome was never in my favor.

Tonight would probably be no different.

I refused to drink, so Ethan grabbed my chin, ready to force it down my throat.

Somehow, I could tell that he was angry again.

I clenched my teeth and resisted until, in the end, he let out a sigh.

Holding my gaze, he tilted his head back and took a sip of the milk himself.

Then, gripping my chin, he kissed me.

My teeth were pried apart, and the liquid slid past my lips, invading my mouth.

The cloying sweetness of milk was mixed with the recklessness of a drunk man who had lost all restraint.

It made me feel sick—like something was stuck in my chest, suffocating me.

I couldn't hold it in any longer.

Tears welled up and spilled over as I sobbed, and only then did he finally stop.

The night was silent and merciless.

I stared at the vase of dried flowers by the entryway for a long time.

Eventually, his voice broke the stillness.

Low. Hoarse. Fractured.

He pulled me into his arms, his body always unbearably warm, burning against my skin.

Over and over, he murmured apologies in my ear.

"Don’t cry. I was wrong, Alice. It’s my fault..."

"Please, stop crying... okay?"

At that moment, I almost believed that, all along, I had been someone he cherished.

…

A man who was satisfied was always easy to reason with.

I tested his limits by saying I didn’t want to see Lily again.

The next day, I saw her tearfully packing her suitcase.

I couldn't understand Ethan anymore.

He wasn’t the kind of man who obeyed my words so easily.

And besides, wasn’t Lily his first love?

When something didn’t make sense to me, I usually just asked.

But all he did was narrow his eyes and ruffle my hair—his usual way of brushing me off.

"Alice, you were never anyone’s replacement."

See? Men always knew how to spin pretty words.

As long as he didn’t want to, he would never tell me his real intentions.

The only one being played here was me.

…

Maybe it was the stifling summer heat, but even the housekeeper’s best meals hadn’t tempted my appetite these past few days.

Forcing down the last bite of pork chop and pasta, I rushed to the bathroom and threw up, gripping the toilet for support.

At that moment, my heart suddenly skipped a beat—fast and erratic.