Chapter 4 - Envy's Poison
The embossed envelope felt like a threat in Maya’s hands. It was thick, creamy cardstock, bordered in gold leaf, demanding her presence at the Hart family’s annual autumn gala. It wasn't an invitation; it was a summons. At the bottom, penned in Vivian’s sharp, aggressive handwriting, was a final, venomous note: 'Do try to look presentable, Maya. And leave your mistake of a husband at home.'
Maya stood in the cramped living room of the apartment, her thumb tracing the golden letters. She had fully intended to go alone. She knew exactly what this gala was—a public spectacle designed to parade the family's wealth, and an opportunity for Richard and Vivian to openly mock her new, degraded status. She didn't want Ethan to endure the humiliation of their sneers.
"I'll be out for the evening," Maya said smoothly, sliding the invitation into her purse. "A family obligation."
Ethan stepped out of the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe with a cup of black coffee in his hand. His sharp eyes immediately caught the slight tremor in her fingers. He had already seen the invitation; his intelligence network had intercepted the guest list hours ago.
"A family obligation," Ethan repeated, his tone dangerously soft. "The autumn gala at the Grand Plaza, I assume?"
Maya froze, her eyes widening. "How did you know?"
"I know the Hart family's schedule," Ethan replied simply, setting his cup down. He walked toward the closet, pulling out his faded black trench coat. "And I know that as your husband, it would be highly inappropriate for me to let you attend alone."
"Ethan, no," Maya pleaded, stepping into his path. "You don't understand. They are vicious. They invited me just to gloat. If you come, they will tear you apart. They still think you're..."
"A destitute loser?" Ethan finished for her, a dark, predatory smirk playing on his lips. "Let them think what they want, Maya. Get dressed. We're going."
An hour later, they arrived at the Grand Plaza. The ballroom was a sea of glittering chandeliers, flowing champagne, and the suffocating perfume of the city's elite. As Maya and Ethan walked through the gilded double doors, the room seemed to undergo a collective, breathless freeze. Whispers ignited like dry brush catching fire.
Maya kept her chin high, wearing a simple, conservative navy dress she had owned for years. Beside her, Ethan wore a plain black suit underneath his faded trench coat. To the untrained eye, he looked out of place, a beggar crashing a royal court.
But Clara Hart, standing across the room in a dazzling, custom-made crimson gown, saw something entirely different.
Clara had expected Ethan to walk in with his shoulders hunched, reeking of failure and desperation. She had expected to feel a triumphant rush of validation for discarding him. But as Ethan checked his coat at the door and placed a steady, possessive hand on the small of Maya’s back, Clara felt a sudden, icy shock to her system.
He didn't look broken. He moved with the effortless, lethal grace of an apex predator. His posture was impeccably straight, his jaw set in a hard, commanding line, and his piercing gray eyes swept over the ballroom with the absolute boredom of a king surveying lesser mortals. When his gaze briefly locked onto Clara, there was no longing, no regret. There was only total, freezing indifference.
Clara’s hand tightened around her champagne flute until her knuckles turned white.
"Well, well. Look what the rat dragged in," Richard Hart sneered, intercepting them before they could reach the tables. Vivian stood beside him, her lips curled in a grotesque smile of faux pity.
"Father," Maya said quietly, her voice steady despite the rapid beating of her heart. "Vivian."
"I told you to leave him at home, Maya," Vivian hissed, her eyes raking over Ethan's unremarkable suit. "Are you trying to humiliate us in front of the board members? Look at him. He doesn't belong here."
"I go where my wife goes, Mrs. Hart," Ethan interjected. His voice was not loud, but it carried a deep, resonant authority that made Vivian involuntarily step back. It was not the voice of a beaten man; it was the voice of a man who was used to ending careers with a single sentence.
Clara rushed over, her crimson dress swishing angrily. She positioned herself directly in front of Ethan, her chest heaving, desperately trying to reclaim the dominance she felt slipping away.
"You have a lot of nerve showing your face here, Ethan," Clara spat, though her voice betrayed a slight tremor. She looked at him closely, searching for the alcoholic ruin she had been promised. Instead, she smelled the faint scent of expensive cedar and rain. She saw the sharp, unyielding cut of his jawline. The raw, masculine power radiating from him was intoxicating, and it made her stomach twist with violent jealousy.
"I was under the impression this was a family event, Clara," Ethan replied coolly. "Or is the Hart Corporation so financially unstable that you can't afford to feed two extra mouths?"
Richard's face flushed a deep, ugly purple. "Watch your mouth, you penniless arrogant—"
"Careful, Richard," Ethan interrupted, his voice dropping to a whisper that only the four of them could hear. His gray eyes narrowed into predatory slits. "I hear your offshore suppliers have been experiencing some... unexpected delays this morning. It would be a shame if a public scene here caused your stock to plummet further."
Richard froze, the color draining from his face. The supply line disruption had just happened that morning; it was a tightly kept corporate secret. There was absolutely no way this disgraced outcast could know about it. Unless...
Ethan didn't give him time to process the terror. He smoothly guided Maya past her stunned family, his hand firm and protective against her spine.
May you like
As they walked away, Clara stared at Ethan's broad back, a toxic, burning sensation spreading through her chest. She had thrown him away because he was supposed to be worthless. But seeing the way he commanded the room, the way he shielded Maya with a fierce, uncompromising strength, Clara realized she had made a catastrophic miscalculation. He wasn't garbage. He was a weapon, and she had just handed him directly to her sister.
The seed of jealousy took root, twisting into a dark, vindictive obsession. Clara decided right then and there: if Ethan Blackwell was truly a king in hiding, she was going to tear Maya down and take him back.
