Slapped on Our Anniversary - Chapter 2: Chapter 2

For seven long years, women had drifted in and out of Ethan Evans' life like passing shadows—but Olivia was different. She was the only one who lasted three months.
He bought her a house, showered her with the finest things, and somewhere along the way—maybe while plotting his revenge against me—he started to care for her. The world saw Olivia as his official girlfriend.
No one knew I was his wife.
"Hey, driver! Mr. Evans wants you over here."
The shout snapped me out of my thoughts. I'd been waiting in the car while Ethan accompanied Olivia on set. When I arrived, they were filming a scene where the female lead falls into the water.
The autumn air was sharp with cold, and the water looked like liquid ice. Olivia clung to Ethan, her eyes glistening with tears—spoiled, adored. "Ethan, I'm not strong enough..."
His grip on her hand tightened. "That's why I got you a stunt double, remember?"
His gaze cut to me, and suddenly, every pair of eyes on set followed.
Smirks spread like wildfire.
Only the director dared to speak up. "Mr. Evans, I know you're protective of Olivia, but this scene is crucial. We can't just throw some random servant in as a stand-in. Why not use one of the middle-aged extras?"
I glanced down at my worn-out clothes, shame prickling my skin.
But Ethan was unmoved. "Just put makeup on her."
When I stepped out of the makeup room, the whispers erupted.
"How do they look so alike?"
"Damn, Mr. Evans must really be into Olivia—even his driver resembles her."
The makeup hid my sickly pallor, the exhaustion carved into my face. For the first time in years, I looked like my old self again.
They all assumed I was a cheap imitation of Olivia.
None of them knew I'd known Ethan long before she ever entered the picture.
"What are you waiting for? Jump in already—Olivia's on a tight schedule!" Ethan barked, his arm still draped around her.
I walked to the pool's edge. The water was dark, deep, exhaling a frigid mist. My body—already ravaged by illness—recoiled instinctively.
"I'm not feeling well, Mr. Evans. You should hire a professional."
"Bullshit. Finding someone else would take half an hour, and Olivia's hungry." His warmth vanished the second he turned to me. "Are you jumping, or do I need to push you?"
A shudder ripped through me.
His words alone were enough to freeze my lungs.
Seven years of this. What was one last time?
I clenched my fists and met his eyes. "After this jump, we're even."
His brow furrowed. "What?"
"Remember the $130,000 I borrowed when I married you?"
"For seven years, I've been your assistant, your maid, your driver—working nonstop. Even at a measly $1,000 a month, you owe me. And every time you slept with me? That was your choice. Even if you think I'm cheap, $500 per night isn't unreasonable."
I pulled out the notebook I always carried—every debt, every humiliation, meticulously recorded.
"This jump could kill me. Charging you $3,000 is a bargain. After this, the debt's cleared. Ethan Evans, I owe you nothing."
I didn't wait for his reply.
I plunged into the water.
The cold swallowed me whole, gnawing at my consciousness, at the last flickers of my life.
But I didn't fight it.
For the first time, I felt free.
I let myself sink.
Then—strong arms wrapped around me, dragging me back to the surface.
"Rachel, are you out of your damn mind?!" Ethan's voice was raw, furious. "You could've died!"
I looked up at him, at the panic twisting his face, and smiled.
"You hate me. Wouldn't that make you happy?"