Chapter 4

He tossed me onto the bed in the adjacent room connected to his office.

Leaning over, he loosened his tie with one hand, the dark red silk slipping through his fingers.

I had a feeling that I had interrupted his meeting, and now, he was irritated.

After all, he wasn’t always so indulgent with me.

"Did you miss me that much today?"

My long hair spilled across the bed, and he toyed with it, wrapping the strands around his fingers.

I looked at him in silence.

"Ethan, do you have any milk in your office?"

He paused, clearly not expecting that question.

This lounge seemed to be his private space, connected to his office.

The scattered dress shirts and suits on the bed all belonged to him.

After a moment, he pulled a carton of milk from the fridge and handed it to me.

"Ran out of milk at home…?"

He never got to finish his sentence because I snatched the milk from his hand.

Twisting off the cap, I poured it straight over his head.

For a second, he froze.

Honestly, he could have dodged it.

But he didn’t. He let me empty the entire carton over him without moving an inch.

I tilted my head up to look at him.

And damn it—even like this, he still looked good.

"Ethan Chambers, this is exactly how you once poured milk over my head."

I spoke each word slowly and deliberately.

…

Maybe no one else had ever seen him this disheveled before.

Milk dripped down his brow as he pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek.

In the end, he only let out a soft chuckle.

When he reached for another carton from the fridge, I still hadn’t realized what he was about to do.

But the moment he twisted off the cap, my eyes widened slightly, finally catching on.

The liquid was ice-cold, fresh from the fridge.

When he poured it over my head, a shiver ran through me involuntarily.

It trickled down my chin and seeped into my collar.

The cold milk didn’t feel quite the same as I remembered.

…

I once overheard the housekeeper whispering that I was crazy for refusing such a good marriage.

But the man in front of me, Ethan, was clearly crazier than I was.

Maybe I had stood frozen for too long.

After pouring the milk, he still had the presence of mind to brush a stray lock of hair from my cheek.

"Now, you're just like me."

I shoved him away.

"Alice, you know better than to make me angry, don’t you?"

He only had to grip my chin, and I didn’t dare move.

To be honest, I wasn’t exactly afraid of him.

I just didn’t want him to be angry.

It was a strange feeling—maybe I hated the consequences, or maybe the impression he left on me was just too deep.

He lifted me into his arms and carried me into the bathroom.

The rising steam blurred the figure before me, the shifting light too dazzling to make out his features.

"Ethan, it’s been seven years. Why did you come back for me?"

My voice was hoarse as I asked him. I felt like I couldn’t go on anymore.

As always, his answer was silence.

…

He laid me down on the bed.

He even took the time to carefully tuck the blanket around me.

I hadn’t been sleeping well these past few days.

I could barely remember the last time I fell asleep peacefully.

While we were in the bathroom, someone already replaced the bedding with fresh sheets—ones without Ethan’s scent.

Strangely, I drifted off faster than before.

My dreams were scattered and fragmented, waves of memories from high school crashing over me.

Drifting between sleep and wakefulness, I caught the sound of voices nearby.

Two young women, probably the cleaning staff, were whispering.

"Hey, do you know who that woman was, the one who barged into the meeting earlier?"