Chapter 3

A week later, at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in Manhattan, at a charity gala.

The crystal chandelier cast its light onto the gleaming marble floor, illuminating the figures of countless celebrities and dignitaries. Amidst the elegant attire and clinking glasses, the air was filled with the scents of champagne and fine perfumes. I appeared at the banquet hall entrance, dressed in a black velvet suit, arm in arm with Claire, instantly drawing everyone's attention.

"Ethan!" Lyra's voice came from the crowd. She was wearing a light purple evening gown and looked very well dressed. Her eyes were filled with nervousness and anticipation as she walked quickly toward me.

I stopped and looked at her, expressionless. Claire tightened her grip on my arm, a smug smile on her face, her eyes full of provocation as she looked at Lyra. "Miss Lyra, long time no see," Claire spoke first, her tone tinged with a hint of smugness. "You received an invitation too? What a coincidence, Ethan and I came together."

Lyra's face paled instantly. She looked at me, her eyes pleading, "Ethan, can we talk?" "Sorry, I don't have time." I said calmly, turning to take Claire's arm and walk into the banquet hall.

Lyra stood there, watching my retreating figure, her eyes filled with resentment. I knew she wouldn't give up easily, and sure enough, not long after, she approached me as a gallery partner. "Ethan, I'd like to discuss a collaboration project with you. Do you have time?" Her voice trembled slightly, but her eyes were full of anticipation.

I looked up at her, my tone calm: "The cooperation project with the Worth Group has a dedicated department in charge. You can go talk to them; you don't need to come to me." Her face paled even more, her lips moved as if she wanted to say something, but I interrupted her: "Claire, let's go take a look over there."

I took Claire's hand and turned to leave, leaving Lyra standing there alone, enduring the scrutinizing gazes of those around her. I knew she was embarrassed, but it was all her own doing.

Halfway through the dinner, I excused myself and went to the lounge. I had barely sat down when the door opened, and Lyra walked in, locking the door behind her. "Ethan, why did you do this to me?" Her voice was choked with tears, her eyes red. "I know I was wrong. I shouldn't have misunderstood you, I shouldn't have divorced you. Please give me another chance, okay? I really know I was wrong."

She stepped forward, wanting to hug me, but I stopped her. "Lyra, I told you, we're over." "Not over!" she said excitedly. "Our marriage isn't over yet! If you're willing, we can remarry! Ethan, I know you've done so much for me before. I'll treat you well from now on. I'll never be willful again. Please forgive me?"

I looked at her, my eyes devoid of any warmth: "Forgive you? When you signed the divorce papers, why didn't you ever think about forgiving me? You complained that I was cold and unromantic, but you never considered why I spent every day in the operating room. You thought I didn't want to be with you, but I didn't even have the strength to get off the operating table, and I still had to smile and explain to you why I was working overtime again."

I paused, a hint of sarcasm in my voice: "You think I hid my identity to deceive you? If I had told you from the beginning that I was the heir to the Worth Group, would you have married me? No, you would have just thought I was a fraud and that I approached you with ulterior motives."

She froze, tears streaming down her face. "No, Ethan, that's not what I meant..." "Enough." I interrupted her, my voice icy. "Go away. Don't embarrass yourself here."

Just then, the door to the lounge opened, and Claire stood in the doorway, a worried look on her face. "Ethan, are you alright? I was worried about you." She walked over to me, took my arm, and looked at Lyra. "Miss Lyra, what are you doing here? Ethan needs to rest now, please leave."

Lyra looked at Claire holding my arm, her eyes filled with jealousy and resentment: "Claire, don't be so smug! Ethan loved me; there was nothing between him and you!" "Is that so?" Claire smiled, took a photo from her bag, and handed it to Lyra. "Then how do you explain this photo, Miss Lyra?"

The photo was of Claire and me on the beach; she was nestled in my arms, looking very close. Lyra's face turned deathly pale instantly. She looked at me in disbelief: "Ethan, you...you and her..."

I didn't look at her, but simply said, "Laila, go. Don't make me say it a third time." She looked at my indifferent profile, and tears finally streamed down her face. She turned and ran out, bursting through the door of the lounge, drawing the attention of a group of people outside.

Claire watched her retreating figure, a smug smile playing on her lips. "Ethan, she's gone." I looked at her, my eyes devoid of warmth. "Are you satisfied?" She paused, then realized something was wrong, her smile freezing on her face. "Ethan, you... what do you mean?"

“So, you can get out of here too.” I pushed her hand away, my tone icy. “You think I really would bring you here? You think you can replace Lyra with a photoshopped picture? You overestimate yourself.”

Her face turned deathly pale instantly, her voice trembling: "Ethan, you... you're playing me?" "So what if I am?" I looked at her, my eyes filled with mockery. "Back then, you stirred up trouble between me and Lyra. Now, I've just been playing along with your act. You think you can hold onto your position as the mistress of the Worth Group? Dream on."

After saying that, I turned and walked out of the lounge, leaving Claire standing there alone, her face pale, looking like a joke.

I went out onto the banquet hall's terrace, looked at the night view, and lit a cigarette. Leila appeared in the distance, surrounded by a group of reporters, her face streaked with tears, looking utterly disheveled. When she saw me, her eyes filled with despair and pleading, she ran towards me.

“Ethan!” She ran up to me, crying, “Ethan, please let me explain. That photo was fake, right? You never loved Claire, did you? Let’s start over, okay?”

Looking at her red, swollen eyes, I felt nothing. I simply said, "Laila, stop deceiving yourself." With that, I turned and left, leaving her alone on the terrace, surrounded by the flashing lights of reporters, like a discarded clown.

Back in the banquet hall, I saw Claire being escorted out by the bodyguards. Her eyes were filled with resentment as she looked at me, but I didn't care. At this banquet, Leila wanted to win me back, and Claire wanted to replace her, but they both lost.

I sat in a corner of the banquet hall, a glass of red wine in hand, watching Leila besieged by reporters, witnessing her disheveled state and despair. I thought I would be happy, but my heart felt only ice-cold. She had pushed me away herself; now, she was finally paying the price for her choices.

At that moment, my assistant walked up to me and whispered, "Sir, Miss Leila's brother owes money to loan sharks, and the creditors are blocking her gallery door tonight. She's desperate now."

I looked at Leila in the distance; she was leaning helplessly against the railing, like a wounded little bird. My fingertips paused slightly, a flicker of doubt crossing my mind, but I quickly suppressed it. "Ignore her," I said curtly, my voice devoid of warmth. "She chose her own path; let her walk it herself."

The assistant nodded and withdrew. I picked up my wine glass, took a sip of red wine, and watched the crimson liquid slide down my throat, carrying a hint of bitterness. Leila, this is your last chance. If you still don't understand, then you'll just have to continue like this.

After the dinner, I sat in my car, gazing at the night view outside the window, my heart filled with emptiness. Lyra, did you think I would still silently smooth things over for you like before? You're wrong. I'm no longer the Ethan Cole you could easily discard. I am Ethan Worth, the one who controls this world.

And you, I've already eliminated you.