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More like bitterness. It was beyond me how she wanted pet names yet acted the stark opposite of the names.
“I’ll work on calling you those.” I forced a smile.
She took a faltering step forward, narrowing her eyes into slits.
“Again,” she hiccupped. “This is you acting like you’re doing me a favor. Acting like I’m forcing you to do shit.”
“Did you drink?” She didn't have a habit of drinking, but when she did, she overdid it.
“Does that change anything?” She scoffed.
“Actually, I—I did drink because I couldn’t stop thinking.”
I watched her carefully, dreading where this conversation was heading.
She’d recently requested a Porsche, which I got for her.
She’d been talking about getting a new, bigger store. I already reimbursed her account.
I did everything I should.
“I’ve done everything you asked of me, Olivia. Please head to bed.”
She snarled. “Why? You have another important meeting tomorrow?”
I clenched my fist, and the anger threatened to overwhelm me. Maybe any other night, I’d have been able to hold myself, but I was tired that night.
“Olivia, go to bed,” I enunciated.
She scoffed. “You think you do shit. But you’re nothing but a ghost haunting this mansion, obsessed with figures and the vain idea of success.”
“Yes! Yes, I think I do shit, and it’s valid. Everything Olivia, every fucking thing I do is to give us a good life… to maintain this life that we— me, you and our daughter have.”
She brought her hand to her hair to yank it.
“I hate it when you say that. Everything you do is for yourself. For your stupid ego, success, and reputation. Don’t you dare pin this on us, you selfish bastard.”
My nostrils flared. “Don’t you dare call me selfish. I work fucking hard for us.. us, Olivia!”
She fisted the railings. “And where has that brought us? For once, Ethan! Open your eyes to see that what you call success is damaging our union.”
No. The only person doing damage was her.
“If you stopped comparing and undermining my efforts, you’ll see that I’m doing incredibly well in juggling my work and personal life. You’ll see that I actually care about this union and, most importantly, how it affects Sophie!”
“I should have fucking ended this a long time ago. For over a year now, my mental health has been nothing but depreciating. Yet I endured to give you this life. You should be grateful!” I sneered.
I was losing it and didn’t bother restraining myself.
“This life?” She laughed. "This gilded cage? Is this what you think makes me happy? This cold, empty football field and more cars than family photos?"
My brows furrowed in anger. “Don’t.”
“You still don’t get it. You never do,” she shook her head. “I feel lonely in this house. The man I married, the one who used to steal random kisses and cuddle me till dawn, is gone. Now all I get are brushed-off dinners and a cold side of the bed every fucking night.”
“You chose to move from our bedroom, and that’s on you!” I growled, moving an inch closer to her.
“Of course I did. I fucking did because it was hard staying where it felt like I wasn’t wanted!” She continued with renewed anger.
