"The divorce papers are ready. I’ll talk Nina into agreeing to a fake divorce."
Nina Blackwell stopped dead outside the study.
She knew that voice. Ethan Blackwell.
She had only come over this late because she suddenly remembered a statistic in tomorrow’s speech might not have been updated in time. That was it. Just work, as usual. She hadn’t expected to hear something this brutal.
"Mr. President, the people in Congress need to be handled in advance. After all..." The chief of staff hesitated, clearly choosing his words carefully. "This involves a change in the First Lady. Ms. Ashford is pressing hard. Her due date is only six months away. If the status change isn’t completed before the baby is born, public opinion will be hard to control."
"I know." Ethan’s voice sounded tired, but there was still that cold, final edge in it, the kind that left no room for argument. "Tiffany has prenatal depression. The doctor said she needs her husband’s company and a proper title to keep her emotions steady. As for Nina... I’ll make it up to her. Once Tiffany gives birth and settles into the role of First Lady, I’ll find a reason to remarry Nina."
Fake divorce.
Those two words hit like a poisoned blade, stabbing straight into Nina’s chest.
She had been running on fumes for days. The old injury in her arm—the one she got years ago when she took a bullet for Ethan—started throbbing again, a dull ache crawling through the bone little by little. She only frowned faintly, then pressed her other hand against the arm in silence.
She was used to it by now.
In the three years since marrying Ethan, she had gotten used to sorting his files in the middle of the night, gotten used to replying to his emails before dawn, gotten used to living in the Platinum Palace like a shadow under the title of "presidential secretary."
No wedding.
No wedding ring she could wear in public.
No title as First Lady.
Not even one decent wedding photo.
She had always thought that if she stayed sensible enough, patient enough, careful enough, one day he would keep his promise. Once the situation settled, he would give her a grand wedding and tell the whole world she was his wife.
Reality had given her a brutal answer.
So that was the answer to all those late nights he came home, to every future he refused to talk about, to every time he told her to be a little more understanding.
Compensation. Consideration. What a joke.
In the end, all he wanted was for her to move aside on her own and make room for him and another woman.
Nina’s fingertips went ice-cold. She lifted a hand and shoved the sitting room door open.
Bang.
The door slammed against the wall with a heavy crash. Both men inside turned at the same time.
Ethan stood by the window in a black robe, tall and straight, the dark fabric making him look even sharper. His face was handsome in that cold, almost cutting way. A flash of surprise crossed his features, but it disappeared fast, like it had never been there.