Chapter 2: The Side Character’s Truth

A few days later, the pieces finally clicked into place. I realized the world I lived in was straight out of a redemption novel—the kind you find on Kindle Unlimited, binge on a long flight, and maybe don’t admit to reading at book club—unless it’s the spicy one that meets at the wine bar. Ethan Caldwell was the male lead, fated to be saved by the pure-hearted, sunbeam of a female lead. Me? I was the childhood friend, the so-called vicious ex-wife, just cannon fodder for someone else’s happy ending.

In the early chapters, Ethan was meant to harbor a secret crush on me for years, love simmering under every word. But the book made sure I looked stupid and cruel—running from my own wedding, giving Ethan the cold shoulder for years, and finally forcing a divorce…

Then, after a pile of humiliations, Ethan got drunk post-divorce. On a rainy night—the kind that makes you want to binge old sitcoms—he was set up by business rivals and lost both his legs. The story didn’t pull its punches.

After that, Ethan spiraled into depression, growing colder and crueler. Enter the author’s darling: the naive female lead, Sydney Lin.

Sydney’s grand debut? She microwaved leftovers in the office, set the place on fire, and burned a mountain of important documents. The manager was furious, ready to kick her out, but Ethan just happened to walk by. Instead of exploding, he was drawn in by Sydney’s baby-faced defiance—thought she was some lost little lamb. Instead of firing her, he promoted her to personal secretary, axing the diligent manager in the process.

From then on, Sydney tripped, spilled, and caused chaos. Ethan picked up every mess, doted on her like she was made of glass, and eventually let go of his past—let go of me. Their happy ending was all but written.

Me? The book barely gave me a sendoff. In the extras, it was hinted that after the divorce, I fell apart—life shattered, no closure, no redemption, just a fade to black.

Looking at the plot, all I felt was disbelief. Who writes this stuff?

Ethan liked me for ten years? No way. If he ever liked me, why did he shoot me down so brutally when I confessed at college graduation? If there was ever a moment for honesty, that was it.

Ethan and I had grown up together, our childhoods tangled and messy. Because of his incubus blood, even his own parents barely looked at him, and his relatives treated him like a ghost. Every time I visited, he was battered—scraped knees, split lip, dirt on his face. It hurt just to see him.

He had no friends. I was his only one. We clung to each other—out of necessity, out of loneliness. To me, he was cold but gentle, always reserved except around me. To the rest of the world, he was pure steel and ice.

So I let myself believe I was special. On graduation day, my hands shook so hard I nearly dropped my diploma. "Ethan, I like you. Do you like me?"

I’d never been so scared—or so hopeful. He crushed it with one word: "Gross."

That single word hit like a slap. My stomach dropped, the world tilting under my feet. He hated me. All my hopes, all my teenage dreams—obliterated in an instant.

The next morning, I was on a flight to Europe, determined never to look back. I blocked Ethan from my life completely.

Three years ago, the Hayes family hit rock bottom. My family lured me home under false pretenses, then forced me into an arranged marriage with the Caldwell clan. By then, Ethan was already running Caldwell Enterprises, all Fortune 500 swagger and cold calculation.

It felt like being auctioned off at a family reunion—except the prize was my freedom. I ran from the wedding—couldn’t stand the idea of marrying a man who didn’t love me. But family never lets you go that easy. When they finally tracked me down, Ethan was cold as marble, a stranger in the body of my oldest friend.

"Morgan, the Hayes family needs money, and I need a wife to fend off outside suspicion."

Rumors about Ethan were everywhere—he avoided women, some said he was impotent. It was ugly, but I grit my teeth for my family’s sake. Three years felt like a lifetime, but I thought it would be enough to put the rumors to bed. I didn’t want to drag Ethan down, so I asked for a divorce—figured leaving before I got left would sting less.

During three years of marriage, he barely spoke to me. The air between us was always cold, never close. How could I believe he’d ever cared for me?