He Brought His Mistress, I Brought My Lawyers Chapter 02

He Brought His Mistress, I Brought My Lawyers Chapter 02

Sloane collapsed into his arms, clutching his sleeve as tears streamed down her face like broken pearls.

“Ethan, it’s my fault… I bumped into Avery by accident. She didn’t mean to push me…”

Ethan’s gaze swept over the red burn on my hand but settled on the shocking gash on Sloane’s arm. His expression darkened, and the air in the room turned to ice.

He stared at me like a cornered animal, forcing two words through his teeth.

“Explain.”

I met his eyes and was struck by the sheer absurdity of it all.

Just hours ago, his plea to “understand” had felt like a knife to the heart. Now, I felt nothing but the cold realization that I must have let the Newport sea breeze rot my brain.

I pulled a paper towel from the holder and slowly wiped the water from my hand, my tone as flat as a weather report.

“She cut herself. The slap was earned.”

I held up my hand, still red and swollen, and waved it in front of him as if displaying a piece of evidence that had nothing to do with me.

“If you need an explanation, that’s it.”

With that, I walked around them and headed upstairs.

The foundation’s video conference was in half an hour. That was important.

Ethan was not.

As I climbed the stairs, I heard Ethan’s anxious voice behind me, calling for the housekeeper to bring the first-aid kit. I heard him comfort Sloane in that voice I knew so well, a voice gentle enough to drown in.

“Don’t be afraid. I’m here. You’ll be fine.”

I didn’t look back.

I walked straight into the dressing room and selected a sharply tailored black Armani suit from the rows of gowns prepared for the wedding. In front of the mirror, I carefully applied concealer, covering the fatigue under my eyes and the fleeting vulnerability on my face.

My phone vibrated on the vanity. An encrypted email from the Caldwell family’s security consultant.

*Preliminary background report on Sloane Pike: Her late husband died in a mountain-climbing accident. The incident involved a high-risk sport and has no direct legal liability connected to Mr. Ward. Additionally, records indicate Ms. Pike has a history of leveraging male patrons for financial gain prior to her marriage.*

I skimmed it and replied with cold fingers.

*Keep digging. Focus on her financial transactions.*

I set the phone down. My gaze fell to the bedside table.

A silver photo frame was engraved with our initials, A&E, a gift from him on our anniversary last year. He had said it would witness a lifetime of happiness.

Now, it was just a sick joke.

I picked up the frame, but I didn’t smash it. I simply placed it facedown on the table.

Then I picked up my phone and took photos of the swollen back of my hand and the bloody letter opener in the kitchen. After that, I opened the estate’s security system admin panel. I’d insisted on installing it six months ago. Ethan had laughed at me, saying no one in Newport would dare break into a Caldwell house.

Now, the hidden camera in the kitchen had recorded everything: Sloane’s provocation, my slap, and most importantly, her picking up the letter opener and cutting her own arm.

I clipped the video, encrypted it, and sent it to my lawyer through a secure channel. The subject line read:

*Potential Litigation Evidence.*

I had just finished when someone pounded on the bedroom door.

Ethan stood in the doorway, flanked by two estate security guards. He had already changed out of the jacket stained with Sloane’s tears. He looked like a judge about to pass sentence.

“Sloane is pressing charges for assault,” he said, his voice devoid of warmth. “She’s already contacted her lawyer.”

I was shrugging on my suit jacket. My movements paused. I gave a soft, humorless laugh.

“Sue me? On what grounds?”

“I’m the evidence.” Ethan stood silhouetted in the doorway, his figure grim. “Avery, I saw what you did. If you refuse to apologize, I have no problem serving as her witness.”

I fastened the last button, picked up my iPad, and said calmly, “Then let her sue.”

“I’d love to see what a judge finds more compelling: her little performance or the kitchen surveillance footage.”

Ethan’s brows snapped together. “What footage?”

“The kitchen. I had it installed six months ago.” I walked right up to him, looking directly into his stunned eyes. “Want to watch it? See how your ‘victim’ staged the whole thing?”

His face went from livid to white. But arrogance quickly reclaimed the upper hand.

“Even if… Even if there’s something wrong with the footage, you still hit her!”

“A reasonable response to provocation.” I glanced at my watch. “Is that all? If you’re done, you can leave. I have a meeting.”

“A meeting?” Ethan looked at me as if I’d told the joke of the century. He stepped forward and grabbed my wrist. “Avery, when did you become so cold-blooded?”

His voice was laced with disappointment and accusation. “Sloane’s arm might scar! She just had a mental breakdown! And all you can think about is work?”

I looked up at him, at the face I had loved for five years, and found it terrifyingly unfamiliar.

He hadn’t always been like this.

I remembered a business dinner in Hong Kong, when a drunken partner had verbally harassed me, and I’d thrown a glass of red wine in his face. The man had turned around and accused me of seducing him. Ethan had been there. Without a word, he’d stepped in front of me and coldly told his assistant to pull the ballroom’s surveillance footage.

He’d said to everyone, “My fiancée doesn’t need to prove her innocence to anyone. But anyone who slanders her will pay the price.”

That Ethan, the certainty and protectiveness in his eyes—he had seemed real enough to build a life with.

Perhaps it was because I had seen him at his best that his favoritism now felt so cruel.

I tightened my grip on the iPad. The cold metal bit into my palm, pulling me back from the memory.

“Ethan, before you question me, look at my hand.”

I broke free from his grip and held out the still-swollen back of my hand. “Where were you when your precious Sloane threw scalding water on me? Where were you when she was humiliating me as ‘Mrs. Ward’?”

His gaze finally landed on my injury. His Adam’s apple bobbed. At last, he forced out a pale defense.

“…That was an accident. She’s just a fragile woman who needs help.”

“Fragile?” I laughed, but the smile never reached my eyes, which were turning red against my will. “Fine. Let’s say she is.”

I stepped closer, until only a breath separated us. I looked straight into his eyes and spoke in a voice only he could hear, each word hard and clear.

“Then I’m telling you now, Ethan. Between me and her, you can only choose one.”

“Make her leave this house. Or we’re done.”