Chapter 12: Territorial Claims–1
Chapter 12: Territorial Claims
(Olivia’s POV)
“Yes,” I replied calmly to Ethan’s accusation of vanity, “because you don’t really know me.”
The truth of my words hung in the air between us. After three years together, Ethan Grey still had no idea who I truly was. The realization should have hurt, but instead, it felt liberating.
I turned to Cassandra with a mischievous glint in my eye. “Miss Evans, really don’t want a photo? If not, I’m driving away.”
Cassandra’s face turned an interesting shade of green with frustration. I could practically see
the internal battle raging inside her. The glacier blue Bentley Continental GT was exactly the
kind of luxury she desperately wanted to flaunt on social media, but her pride wouldn’t allow
her to ask me for anything.
“I don’t care,” she forced herself to say stiffly, her voice tight with barely contained envy.
“Okay then, bye–bye!” I waved cheekily, enjoying this rare moment of having the upper hand.
I stepped on the accelerator, and the powerful engine responded immediately. The blue
Bentley shot forward smoothly, leaving them behind in a cloud of dust. Through my rearview mirror, I caught a glimpse of their stunned expressions growing smaller as the distance
between us increased.
The satisfaction I felt was petty, perhaps, but after enduring weeks of their deliberate
humiliation, this small victory tasted incredibly sweet.
As I drove away, I could still see them in my rearview mirror. Cassandra’s jealousy was
palpable even from a distance as she turned to Ethan.
“Ethan, why would you be interested in such a vain woman?” her voice carried faintly on the
wind.
Ethan rubbed his brow, a hint of annoyance surfacing on his handsome face. “She wasn’t always like this. I don’t know what’s gotten into her lately, forcing me to marry her and even renting a car,”
His words stung despite my best efforts to remain indifferent. Forcing him to marry me? Is that what he truly believed? The memory of his own proposal three years ago flashed through my mind–how eagerly he had pursued me after Cassandra left for her studies abroad.
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Cassandra feigned sympathy, crossing her arms over her chest. “She probably feels threatened since I’m close to you. Renting the car must be her way to fit into our circle.”
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She clicked her tongue, adding with false pity, “But a rented car is still just rented. In the end,
she can only take a few photos before returning it. How pathetic.”
Ethan’s voice carried his clear distaste. “Enough, I’m embarrassed for her.”
He turned and left Cassandra outside the Moonlight Manor, as if distancing himself from the
entire farce. Their assumptions about me renting the car rather than owning it spoke volumes
about how little they thought of me.
I drove the Bentley around Harbor City for a while, letting the smooth handling and powerful
engine calm my nerves. The luxury of the vehicle was undeniable–the buttery soft leather
seats, the responsive steering, the quiet purr of the engine. Connor had chosen well.
After clearing my mind with the drive, I parked the Bentley discreetly in a paid lot outside the
Moonlight Manor. I deliberately avoided the garage–we weren’t at the point of tearing off all
pretense yet.
Not long ago, I had considered confessing my true identity and background to Ethan. Now, I no
longer saw the need. Let him believe what he wanted about me. In just over a week, I would be
gone from his life completely.
That night, I brought home takeout from a specialty restaurant and sat down at the dining
table as if nothing was amiss. I opened the boxes filled with spicy venison and herb–crusted
rabbit, the rich aroma instantly filling the room.
The scent of seasoned crawfish and chili–rubbed wild boar wafted through the air, making my mouth water in anticipation. I noticed Ethan’s gaze drawn helplessly to my meal, his mouth watering against his will as the spicy scent awakened his appetite.
Compared to his bland vegetarian plates–Cassandra’s preferred diet–my food looked infinitely more tempting. I suppressed a smile, remembering how much Ethan had always loved spicy food.
Memories flashed of past dates when I would peel crawfish for him with my slender fingers, feeding him bite after bite. He would close his eyes in pleasure, savoring the spicy, succulent
meat.
Now, I dexterously peeled the crawfish for myself, enjoying each morsel without offering him any. I could feel his eyes on me, watching my every move with an intensity that spoke of more than just hunger for food.
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When I caught him staring, I swallowed and asked bluntly, “What is it? Why are you looking at
me?”
Embarrassed at being caught, Ethan coughed and pretended indifference. “Can you not eat
such pungent things?”