Chapter 6: The Milk Incident

This morning, after Ethan left, I hurled my glass at the TV again, the crash echoing through the empty house like a bad joke.

Usually the housekeeper would just bring me another glass of milk. Today, I didn’t want it.

I used to love milk. My mom would shove a bottle in my hand every morning before school. That changed the day Ethan dumped a whole bottle over my head in class—soaking my hair, my shirt, my skin in that sweet, sour smell. The laughter that followed still rings in my ears.

"Hey, look at her! Who’s she trying to impress?"

"Ethan, your sense of fun is so messed up…"

He’d stare at me, pinch my chin, sneer: "So ugly."

...

Now, I can’t stand the sight of milk. But I probably hate Ethan more.

When I knocked over the second glass today, the housekeeper almost begged me.

"Miss… please, just drink it…"

I turned away, eyes falling on the landline next to the sofa. I pressed the only button that mattered—it dialed straight to Ethan’s office.

But this time, a man answered. Ethan’s assistant.

"Miss Hayes."

"I want to talk to Ethan!"

"He’s in a meeting, Miss Hayes…"

"Then I’ll come over!"

I hung up before he could argue. At the gate, the guard just waved me through. Perks of being Ethan’s fiancée, I guess. I made it all the way to the top floor before anyone tried to stop me.

"Miss Hayes, you can wait in the lounge next door…"

I pushed the conference room door open anyway.