Untitled Part 10
But now, I was starting to rethink why she had wanted my baby to disappear in the first place.
By the end of the workday, I got a call from Ethan for the first time in what felt like forever.
It was loud on his end, music and voices crashing together, but he didn't say a word.
"Do you need something?"
Silence.
"If not, I'm hanging up."
Still nothing.
I ended the call.
A few seconds later, he called again.
After the same thing happened several times, I finally understood what he wanted.
I let out a tired sigh.
"Text me the address. I'll come get you."
Ethan was probably drunk.
When he was drunk, he got unusually clingy.
It never showed on his face, but if I disappeared from his sight for even a few minutes, he'd start looking for me everywhere.
His sister had witnessed it once and complained bitterly,
"When men get older, they start feeling that empty-nest loneliness. Cut a scared old man some slack, sis-in-law."
In truth, Ethan was only five years older than me.
A moment later, his chat thread jumped to the top of my phone.
I opened it, got the address, and headed to the club.
On the way there, I rolled the car window all the way down and let the cold wind pour in.
I was going to ask for a divorce.
I couldn't wait even one more day.
When I pushed open the private room door, a woman in a tiny spaghetti-strap dress was crouched in front of Ethan.
With a suggestive smile, she ran her fingers over the lighter by his hand.
"Mr. Sterling, I can light your lighter with my lips," she purred.
"Want to see?"
Ethan didn't look like he did during the day—cool, polished, untouchable.
His tie had been balled up and tossed aside.
The top two buttons of his shirt were undone, his collar slightly disheveled.
Leaning back in the booth, he lifted his eyes to me.
"Ask her."
The woman turned around.
"And you are...?"
"My wife."
Her smile froze.
Then she gave an awkward laugh, got to her feet, and quickly left.
Ethan's sister was there too.
"Claire, relax. This was just a birthday party for one of my brother's friends. He's been perfectly loyal, I swear. Not a single woman laid a finger on him."
But that wasn't what caught my attention.
My eyes were fixed on his right hand—his knuckles were swollen, scraped, and faintly streaked with blood.
That kind of violent damage looked strangely out of place on Ethan.
Seeing where I was looking, his sister explained,
"I heard about what happened today."