"Still zoning out now?"
Moonlight spilled through the window, casting a faint glow with a trace of temptation.
Steam curled inside the bathroom, blurring the outline of two entangled figures.
Hazel Grant was pinned against the cold tiles by Ethan Blackwood. Her hands were held above her head in his firm grip, while his other hand pressed tightly against her waist, leaving clear red marks behind.
He chuckled low next to her ear, then took her earlobe between his lips.
He bit gently, lingering there teasingly.
Waves of heat coursed through Hazel’s body.
She trembled uncontrollably, biting down on her lip to keep quiet.
An hour later, Hazel finally collapsed, weak and breathless, in Ethan’s arms.
He hugged her from behind, laughing softly. After a moment, he bent down, scooped her up, and carried her out of the bathroom.
By the time he laid her down on the bed, Hazel was completely spent.
Just as Ethan slipped into his robe and was about to walk out, Hazel drew in a breath and sat up. "Ethan."
He paused, raised an eyebrow, and looked back at her. "Yeah?"
Hazel got straight to the point. "We need to talk."
They’d been married for over six months now, but everything about their relationship felt like a business arrangement.
They went through the motions, did what needed to be done, but there was zero emotional connection.
Even after something like tonight, no matter how late it got, they still slept in separate rooms.
Makes sense, though—it was a family alliance, after all. Their marriage was always more of a deal.
Ethan heard her and walked back, but instead of sitting on the bed, he chose the armchair across from her.
He crossed his long legs and sank into the seat with a casual air. His fingers tapped lightly on the armrest—elegant, but clearly keeping his distance. "What’s up?"
Hazel looked him straight in the eye, the heat in her gaze already cooled into calm resolve. "I want a divorce."
His tapping stopped.
Ethan's eyes narrowed slightly, the smirk disappearing from his face bit by bit. "Come again?"Hazel knew he heard her loud and clear, so she didn’t bother explaining. “The divorce agreement’s ready. I had my lawyer draft it. It’s on the coffee table—sign it whenever you’ve got time.”
As her words landed, the air in the bedroom froze for a few seconds.
Ethan’s eyes locked onto her, his smile vanishing in a flash. “Does your family know you’re doing this?”
This wasn’t some casual breakup between lovebirds. When it came to a marriage tied to family interests, it was never just about two people.
One wrong move could mess up the whole web—connections, deals, mutual interests, losses and gains, all tangled up.
Hazel replied calmly, “I can handle it myself.”
Ethan’s Adam’s apple bobbed. His face gave away nothing. “As long as you’re sure.”
“I am,” she said evenly.
Weirdly enough, they talked about splitting up more businesslike than they did getting married.
Everything that needed saying was said. Ethan stood up and strode to the door.
Just as he reached the doorframe, he paused like something had just popped into his head. He turned slightly, a half-smirk tugging at his lips, eyes glinting with something unreadable. “Since we’re calling it quits, what was all that in the shower just now?”
Hazel didn’t answer. Her hand under the blanket clenched into a tight fist.
“Breakup sex?” Ethan pushed.
Hazel's nails dug into her palm. Forcing herself to look him straight in the eye, she shot back, “What’s with the attitude, Mr. Blackwood? Can’t handle losing?”
That one offhand comment lit the fuse between them.
Ethan’s fingers curled around the doorknob. Staring at her calm-as-ever face, something inside him twisted. He let out a laugh that didn’t reach his eyes. “Don’t worry. I don’t mind losing. If you ever feel like playing again, you know where to find me.”
Hazel answered flatly, “Thanks for the offer, Mr. Blackwood. I’ll pass.”
The message was clear: this was their last round. After today, they’d walk their separate ways, no looking back.
Now that the marriage shackles were off, it was back to being strangers in their own worlds—cold and distant.
As Ethan walked out, Hazel’s straight-backed posture finally collapsed. She sucked in a deep breath, steadying herself, then grabbed her phone from the nightstand and fired off a message: I talked to Ethan. Please help me handle the divorce stuff.
