I tested him.
Not with betrayal.
Not with secrets.
But with something far more dangerous in Ethan's world—disobedience.
It started small.
I skipped a dinner with his board partners. Told his assistant I was unavailable. Declined a personal car. Took the subway instead.
Then I did something bigger.
I wore a red dress he didn't choose.
One that clung to my hips, bared my back.
The kind of dress he once said made me look like I was "asking to be touched."
And then I walked into the gala alone.
Every eye turned.
I smiled at his competitors. Shook hands with men Ethan didn't respect. Laughed a little louder than usual. Danced with a stranger.
And waited.
It didn't take long.
He found me on the terrace, away from the noise. The city behind him. The fury inside him too quiet to name.
"You're making a statement," he said, his voice low.
"I thought you liked bold women," I replied.
"I like women who understand the cost of what they're doing."
"And I like men who don't confuse control with care."
A beat of silence.
Then he stepped forward, slowly, like a man stalking a ghost.
"You're trying to hurt me."
"No," I said, calm and clear. "I'm trying to find out if I still exist in your world as something other than yours."
His expression cracked—just slightly.
"I don't want to lose you," he said. Not possessive this time. Not threatening.
Just… broken.
"But you never wanted to keep me," I whispered. "Only the version you created."
For a moment, I thought he'd raise his voice. Shatter something. But he didn't.
Instead, he whispered, "You're wrong."
And then he did something worse than yelling.
He begged.
"Don't leave. Not like this. Not yet."