He Brought His Mistress, I Brought My Lawyers Chapter 10

He Brought His Mistress, I Brought My Lawyers Chapter 10

When Avery opened her eyes again, the sharp smell of disinfectant filled her nose.

She struggled to open them. Thick gauze wrapped her forehead and cheek, blocking most of the light. She raised her hand to touch the unfamiliar texture.

“Don’t touch it.”

Ethan’s voice came from beside the bed. He stepped forward and pressed her hand down, his tone deliberately soft.

“The doctor used the best suturing technique. They’ll try… not to leave a scar.”

“Try…” Avery repeated softly, as if tasting a cold joke.

She didn’t break down. She didn’t question him. She didn’t even cry. She calmly withdrew her hand and turned to look at him with empty eyes.

Her dead stillness sent a wave of panic through Ethan. He had expected hysterics, accusations. He knew how to handle those. But the Avery before him was like a frozen lake, leaving him helpless.

“You’re still here?” Avery’s voice held no warmth. “Doesn’t Sloane need you?”

Embarrassment flashed across Ethan’s face. He avoided her gaze and sat in the chair beside the bed.

“Sloane has nurses. You… how do you feel?”

“I’m not dying,” Avery said lightly. “You can leave.”

“Avery, don’t be like this.” Ethan took her hand, his words rushing out. “Last night was my fault, but I had no choice! Sloane was unstable. What if she’d really…”

“So you sacrificed me?”

Avery cut him off, her eyes holding a disappointment so deep it seemed bottomless.

“My face is ruined. It may affect my ability to appear at public events for the Caldwell Family Foundation. How will you settle that account, Ethan?”

Ethan froze. He had never heard Avery speak to him in the cold language of a business liquidation.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he said quickly, as if grabbing at driftwood. “The best plastic surgeon, the most advanced treatments—I’ll pay for everything. And…”

He clapped his hands.

The ward door opened. His assistant led in a line of people pushing an entire rack of gowns. Every piece was from Dior’s latest haute couture collection, in the style she had always loved.

“These are all new pieces from your favorite designer.”

Ethan walked to the rack and picked up a champagne-colored silk dress, his eyes holding a self-assured warmth.

“This color suits you. When you’ve healed, we’ll go back to Newport and hold the wedding as planned, all right?”

He thought this would bring back her familiar smile, smooth over everything.

Avery’s gaze swept over the expensive fabrics and finally landed on the dress.

“The size is wrong.”

Ethan froze. “What?”

“That dress is a size two,” Avery said, her voice as calm as if she were discussing the weather. “I wear a four.”

She looked at him. In the eyes that had once been filled with love, only cold, emotionless scrutiny remained.

“Ethan, we were together for five years. You don’t even know my dress size?”