Chapter 221
“Trey!”
Angela stared at him in disbelief, as if she had just heard something absurd.
“Do you even have a conscience saying that to me?”
She had borne his child. She had endured years of criticism, suspicion, and cold treatment from the Fox family. Only after struggling step by step had she finally gained a fragile foothold in this household.
And now—
Every problem was being pushed onto her alone.
Trey pressed his fingers to his temple, exhaustion flashing across his face.
“I’m not arguing anymore. My head hurts.”
He had no energy left to continue this fight.
But Angela wasn’t willing to stop.
“Trey, you’re not leaving tonight,” she said sharply. “If you walk out, I’ll take Pete and leave tomorrow.”
“Stop this,” Trey replied flatly.
“Fine,” Angela shot back. “Then I’ll go ask Dad to decide for us. Are we supposed to live separately forever as husband and wife?”
That name—
Arthur—
Made Trey’s expression change slightly.
He reached out and grabbed her wrist.
“Enough.”
Angela was pulled back and pinned against the wall.
The impact made her wince.
Her eyes snapped up at him in anger.
For a moment, she saw something unfamiliar in Trey’s gaze.
Not love.
Not patience.
Just exhaustion… and disgust that he himself didn’t seem to understand.
“I’ll stay,” he said at last.
The words were calm, but there was no warmth in them.
It was not an agreement.
It was a surrender.
He let go immediately after.
Without another glance at her, he removed his coat, walked into the bedroom, pulled out a quilt, and laid it on the sofa.
He was going to sleep there.
Angela stood frozen for a moment.
Then something inside her finally cracked.
Without a word, she turned and slammed the bedroom door shut.
That night, the house was silent.
Trey lay on the sofa.
But sleep did not come easily.
A dull headache pulsed behind his eyes, growing worse with every passing minute. Cold sweat dampened his shirt.
He turned slightly, breathing unevenly.
His throat was dry.
“Khloe…”
The name slipped out unconsciously—fragile, almost inaudible.
Elsewhere, Khloe was attending the Keller family dinner for the project.
She had brought Charlotte with her, planning only a brief appearance before excusing herself.
But the moment the dinner began, Charlotte received a call and stepped out.
Soon after—
Ethan followed.
In a quiet corridor far from the private room, Charlotte stood nervously, fingers twisting the hem of her clothes.
Her breathing was uneven.
She had just ended the call when—
A presence suddenly closed in from behind.
Before she could react, a hand covered her mouth and pulled her back.
Her body was trapped against a firm chest.
“Relax,” Ethan murmured near her ear, his voice almost amused. “So nervous… were you thinking about me?”
Charlotte’s eyes widened in shock and anger.
She struggled, but his grip didn’t loosen.
“Ethan… what are you doing?” she hissed once he released her mouth enough to speak.
He tilted his head slightly, as if genuinely puzzled.
“What do you mean? I just thought it was stuffy inside. I brought you out for some air.”
His injured hand lifted her chin lightly, forcing her to meet his gaze.
Charlotte’s expression turned cold.
“Let me go.”
“Let you go?” Ethan chuckled softly. “I haven’t done anything to you.”
His tone shifted slightly.
“Didn’t you enjoy yourself last night too?”
The words landed like ice.
Charlotte’s face flushed instantly—anger, humiliation, and disbelief flooding her all at once.
“Don’t say that,” she said sharply.
But Ethan didn’t stop.
That day, after he had saved her from her father, his hand had been bleeding badly.
She had intended to send him to the hospital.
He refused.
Insisted she take care of it herself.
Said hospitals were unnecessary.
Said it would cost her money.
She had believed him.
She had brought him home to treat the wound herself, thinking it would end there.
But now—
Standing in this corridor, hearing his voice, she realized too late what she had walked into.
And no matter how much she wished she could undo it—
She couldn’t.