Chapter 4 The Provocation of a Sex Recording

Ethan laughed in anger, but there was no trace of amusement in his eyes—only cold, violent fury.

He stared at Sienna as if seeing her for the first time.

The woman who had always been docile, who spoke in soft whispers, who was even afraid to breathe too loudly in his presence for fear of disturbing him—this woman now dared to ask him in such a provocative tone whether he would divorce her if she cheated.

Ridiculous. Absurd.

He completely ignored the word "divorce," only feeling an inexplicable rage burning in his chest, making his temples throb.

"Sienna, so you dare to admit it." He spoke each word deliberately, as if squeezing the sounds through his teeth. "Who is he?"

He thought she would panic, would explain, would soften and apologize immediately the moment his expression darkened, just like she had countless times before.

But she didn't.

Sienna just looked back at him calmly. Those eyes that had once been full of adoration and dependence were now as clear as a cold pool, reflecting none of his image.

"Does it matter who he is?" she asked back.

This counter-question completely ignited Ethan's fury.

He suddenly swept the glass beside him onto the floor. The sharp crash echoed particularly harsh in the empty living room.

"Does it matter?" He repeated the words, his voice cold. "You're hugging and holding another man while married, and now you're asking me if it matters?"

He braced himself against the sofa armrest, trying to stand up, but forgot about his injured leg. A sharp pain hit him, making his face instantly pale, and he fell back down awkwardly.

That bit of awkwardness made him even more angry and embarrassed.

"I'm warning you, Sienna." Ethan's gaze was like a knife, locked firmly on her. "Stay away from that man. Don't let me see a second time."

This was an order, a warning, a non-negotiable declaration from him as Ethan, as her husband.

Sienna looked at him and suddenly felt it was incredibly ironic.

She laughed—not the gentle, obedient smile from before, not the cold, mocking laugh from earlier, but a genuine laugh at the absurdity of it all.

"Ethan, what gives you the right to control me?"

Her voice wasn't loud, but it was like a resounding slap across Ethan's face.

He froze, the anger in his eyes solidifying into disbelieving shock.

What gives him the right? He was her husband—wasn't that reason enough?

"Just because you can come and go with Queenie, stay in the same room with her, but I can't even have a friend?" Sienna shattered his logic piece by piece. "You and she have no blood relation, yet you can be so intimate. So what about me and him?"

She pointed at the blurry male figure on the screen, her tone casual. "Who knows, maybe he's my long-lost brother too?"

"You!" Ethan was left speechless, his chest heaving violently.

He had never imagined that one day Sienna would use Queenie to strike back at him.

In his view, Queenie was his sister, his family—completely different from an outsider like Sienna.

But he forgot that legally, Sienna was his closest person.

"What about me?" Sienna picked up her suitcase, the handle making a crisp sound like a death knell for this failed marriage. "Why can't I do what you can do? Mr. Howard, you're really quite domineering."

She no longer looked at him, pulling her suitcase and turning toward the door.

"Stop right there!" Ethan shouted, his voice carrying a hint of panic he himself hadn't noticed. "Sienna, try walking out that door!"

Sienna's steps paused for a moment, but she didn't turn back.

She only turned her face slightly, leaving him with a cold profile. "Ethan, stop talking to me in that tone. I'm not your subordinate, and very soon... I won't be your wife either."

"Don't even think about it!" He practically roared. "Divorce? Let me tell you, impossible!"

He absolutely didn't believe she really wanted a divorce. This was just a new way of throwing a tantrum, a means to get his attention.

As long as he stayed firm, she would eventually come back on her own.

Sienna didn't respond to his roaring.

She simply pulled open the heavy carved wooden door. The cool evening breeze mixed with the damp smell after rain rushed in, lifting the stray hairs by her cheeks.

Without looking back, she walked out, leaving the man's towering rage and hoarse screaming shut behind the door.

In the living room, the shattered glass and the tablet with its cracked screen lay in disarray.

Ethan sat alone on the sofa. His injured leg sent waves of dull pain, but it was far less overwhelming than the hollow irritation and anger in his heart.

He stared at the tightly closed door as if trying to bore a hole through it.

Very well.

Sienna, you've really grown bold.

After the rain, in the deep night, the air carried the earthy smell.

Sienna dragged her suitcase and hailed a taxi by the roadside.

She didn't go to any of the Su family properties, but went directly to an apartment she had secretly bought six months ago without Ethan knowing.

It was in an old neighborhood. Though the location was average, the security system was something she had personally arranged to have reinforced.

Opening the door, the cold emptiness of the room made her tense nerves relax slightly.

She took off her soaked coat and was about to take a hot shower when her phone on the entrance cabinet suddenly vibrated twice.

It was WeChat.

It was Queenie.

Sienna's fingertips paused, then she opened it.

No text, just a fifty-eight-second voice message.

Almost possessed, she pressed play.

Instantly, the silent room filled with nauseating, suggestive sounds.

A woman's moans, broken whimpers, and a man's heavy breathing.

"Ethan... slower... it hurts..."

That was Queenie's voice, sickeningly sweet, carrying undisguised provocation.

Then came Ethan's low, hoarse voice, with an urgency rarely heard, "Don't move around, your leg isn't healed yet."

Sienna slammed the phone face-down on the table.

Although she had long suspected something between those two, although she had already signed the divorce agreement, when this naked betrayal hit her eardrums in audio form, she still felt a strong wave of physical nausea.

That sound was like a slimy poisonous snake crawling up her spine, making all her hair stand on end.

She rushed into the bathroom and dry-heaved over the toilet for a long time, but nothing came up.

Three years of devotion, three years of patience, and in the end, this was the vicious provocation she got in return.

Ethan, you kept saying she was your sister—this is what you call "sibling affection"?

Sienna turned on the faucet and frantically splashed cold water on her face.

She looked at her pale, haggard reflection in the mirror, her eyes gradually changing from pain to cold, calm determination.