His First Love, My Last Laugh

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Five years into building a company with Ethan Thorne, we had gone from broke basement lovers to the power couple everyone envied.

Everyone said Ethan treated me like a queen. He once even walked out on a multi-million dollar VC pitch just to rush me to the ER when I had an allergic reaction.

Until today, when I saw his wedding invitation to his first love.

Yet, just half an hour ago, we were tangled in the sheets, loving each other to death.

I confronted him. "Ethan, what have I been to you these past five years?"

He took a slow drag of his cigarette, his voice painfully calm. "Just your bad luck, I guess. You happened to show up when I was at my lowest."

"And now? Now you have everything."

He turned to look at me, his eyes devoid of any warmth.

"Now? Now it's time to give the seat back to the one who actually belongs there."

I let out a cold laugh.

Then it really is time for me to find a new husband.

Sera's POV

Behind the scenes of Apex Tech's grand product launch, the door to the VIP green room was locked from the inside.

Ethan pinned me against the vanity mirror, kissing me so hard I could barely breathe.

My silk blouse was completely disheveled, unbuttoned down to my collarbone, while Ethan was still immaculately dressed in his bespoke suit, his glasses sitting perfectly on his high nose bridge.

This dominant, possessive contrast made my ears flush crimson.

Ethan's large hand gripped my waist, pulling me hard against his chest. His lips brushed my earlobe as he chuckled darkly, "The press is right outside, Sera. If I open this door, everyone will see you like this. Why are you trembling, hmm?"

The crisp, clean scent of cedarwood on him completely enveloped me. Just as I was losing myself in his rare display of passion, a frantic knock shattered the silence.

"Mr. Thorne, Mr. Carter says there's an urgent matter," his assistant's voice called out from the other side.

Ethan froze, the passion in his eyes vanishing instantly.

He let me go, slowly buttoning his suit jacket, returning to his usual cold, aloof self. "Wait for me here. I'll take care of it."

The door clicked shut, leaving me alone in the quiet room.

I caught my breath, walked over to the sofa, and picked up Ethan's iPad to finish some digital sketches, as I always did.

But the moment the screen unlocked, an iCloud sync notification popped up.

File Sync Complete: Marriage_Certificate_Scan.pdf

My heart skipped a beat. A marriage certificate?

Ethan and I had been together for five years. Though he'd recently mentioned "settling down," we hadn't even bought rings yet. Where did a marriage certificate come from?

I tapped the file.

The high-definition scan filled the screen, and what I saw made my eyes burn.

The man in the photo was indeed Ethan, looking incredibly gentle. But the woman leaning happily against his shoulder wasn't me.

It was Chloe Bennett.

I scrolled down. The registration date was three days ago.

The next page was a pre-drafted Prenuptial Agreement and Asset Transfer.

"The groom, Ethan Thorne, voluntarily transfers 10% of Apex Tech's founder shares to the bride, Chloe Bennett, upon marriage."

In that single second, the blood in my veins turned to ice.

Chloe Bennett.

The name was like a poisoned needle stabbing straight into my heart.

Five years ago, Ethan was just a broke college kid trying to start a business. Chloe, his college sweetheart, stole his core source code, sold it to his biggest competitor, and fled the country to study abroad, leaving him ruined.

Ethan went bankrupt overnight, buried under millions in debt. He was so severely depressed he almost jumped from the roof of his building.

It was me who dragged him back from the edge of that roof. A nobody. A struggling freelance illustrator.

For five years, I worked three jobs. I was a receptionist by day and drew digital commissions late into the night. To help him pay off his debts and restart his project, I drew until my neck was permanently damaged and my vision blurred.

I literally used my own life to pave the way for Ethan's success.

I shared moldy bread with him. I lived in leaky basement apartments. I held him through countless nights of absolute despair.

I thought I had finally become irreplaceable in his life.

Yet now, when he was worth billions and stood at the top of the world, the very first thing he did was bring back the woman who betrayed him and secretly marry her!

He was even giving away the shares I had sacrificed my health for to that parasite!

Tears fell, splashing onto the screen and blurring the text.

So, five years of devotion meant absolutely nothing compared to his first love coming back.

I didn't go to Ethan to scream and cry.

When adults break down, they do it silently.

I wiped my tears, pulled out my phone, and dialed a number I had promised myself I would never call.

When the call connected, Eleanor Thorne's arrogant voice rang out: "So, Miss Vance, have you finally faced reality?"

"Yes, Mrs. Thorne," I said, my voice shockingly calm. "I accept your offer of $50 million. I will leave Ethan forever."

Sera's POV

"At least you're smart," Eleanor sneered over the line. "Tomorrow morning, 10 AM, at the St. Regis Cafe. Don't be late."

The next morning, I arrived right on time.

Eleanor slid a $50 million cashier's check and a non-disclosure agreement across the table, her eyes filled with nothing but disgust.

"Sign it, and the money is yours. But let's get one thing straight. Once you take this, get as far away from Ethan as possible. You are just a painter. Don't ever dream of marrying into the Thorne family. Ethan is already married to Chloe. If you keep clinging to him, you will be nothing but a shameless mistress."

I didn't argue. I picked up the pen and signed my name at the bottom of the page.

"Don't worry, Mrs. Thorne. He will never see me again."

Eleanor took the paper, satisfied. "I'll give you two weeks. Ethan is busy with Chloe right now anyway. Find a good excuse and vanish completely."

After leaving the cafe, I went straight to the visa center to fast-track an artist residency visa for Iceland.

The Thorne family was powerful in New York, but their reach couldn't touch Northern Europe. Once I was in Iceland, Ethan would never find me.

On the cab ride home, I opened Instagram. A notification popped up.

It was a post from Chloe.

It was a photo of two hands locked together on a steering wheel, a massive diamond ring glittering on her ring finger. In the passenger seat lay a vintage Leica camera.

The caption read: "What's meant to be will always find its way back to its rightful owner."

The post was set so that only I could see it.

Looking at that camera, a bitter laugh escaped my lips.

That was the birthday present I had spent three freezing days hunting for in the vintage markets for Ethan's 25th birthday, spending every last penny of my savings.

I liked the post without any expression, then logged out.

At 10 PM, Ethan came home.

He threw his suit jacket onto the couch and wrapped his arms around me from behind as I was packing up my sketches. Resting his chin on my shoulder, his voice was surprisingly tender. "Why are you so sweet today? You even left the lights on for me."

My body tensed. I didn't struggle, but asked quietly, "Where were you today?"

"Just some urgent meetings at the office. I had to work late," Ethan lied without blinking, even kissing my cheek. "I've been neglecting you lately. There's a yacht party tomorrow night. Come with me. You need some fresh air."

Looking at his handsome, loving face, my stomach turned with pure disgust.

I lowered my gaze, hiding the dead look in my eyes. "Okay."

The next evening, the luxury yacht was glowing with lights.

When I entered holding Ethan's arm, we immediately became the center of attention. Everyone in our social circle knew Ethan had a woman who had been through thick and thin with him. Though we weren't married, my status seemed rock-solid.

But shortly after we sat down, a woman in a custom red gown walked down the grand spiral staircase.

Chloe Bennett.

She walked straight to our table, sat in the empty seat right next to Ethan, and smiled. "Long time no see, Ethan."

Ethan's grip on his wine glass tightened, but his face remained like ice. He didn't even look at her, only turning to me. "The oysters here are great. Want some?"

Watching his forced indifference, I found it pathetic.

They were already married. Why was he still acting for me?

Halfway through the party, Ethan was called away by some business partners.

I walked out to the deck alone to get some air, holding the digital tablet that contained five years of my artwork.

"Sera, you really are pathetic, aren't you?" Chloe's voice came from behind.

I turned around, staring at her coldly. "Do you need something, Mrs. Thorne?"

Hearing "Mrs. Thorne," Chloe smirked triumphantly. "Since you already know, why haven't you packed your bags and run? Do you really think Ethan loves you? He just pities you. You're nothing but a glorified, free maid. Now that I'm back, the placeholder needs to get lost."

With that, Chloe stepped forward and snatched the tablet from my hands.

"What are you doing? Give it back!" My face paled. My upcoming commercial illustrations and five years of hard work were all in there!

"It's just a cheap piece of plastic. Why so tense?" Chloe sneered, her hand flicking outward.

Splash.

The tablet sank into the pitch-black ocean.

"Chloe!" My eyes turned bloodshot. I raised my hand and slapped her across the face with everything I had.

Slap!

The sharp sound echoed across the deck.

"What do you think you're doing?!"

A furious roar came from behind us.

Ethan rushed over, shoving me aside violently to catch Chloe, who was whimpering and clutching her red cheek.

His shove was so hard, and with my high heels, I lost my balance and crashed backward.

Crack!

My right wrist slammed violently against the iron railing of the deck. A sickening snap echoed in my ears.

Sera's POV

White-hot agony shot from my wrist straight to my brain. Cold sweat poured down my face, and I collapsed onto the deck, unable to move.

For an illustrator, her right hand is her life.

But Ethan didn't even look at my way. He was gently cradling Chloe's face, his eyes filled with pure panic. "Chloe! Are you okay? Where does it hurt?"

Chloe's eyes were red, tears streaming down her face like a victim. She shrunk into Ethan's chest. "Ethan, I just wanted to see Sera's drawings. It slipped out of my hand and fell into the ocean. It was an accident, but she... she hit me..."

"Sera!" Ethan whipped his head around, his eyes wild with rage as he glared at me. "When did you become so vicious? It was just a stupid tablet! How dare you lay a hand on her!"

A stupid tablet?

Holding my shattered wrist, I let out a broken laugh.

That tablet didn't just have my livelihood; it had every single sketch I had drawn of him over the last five years. His profile while working late, his sleeping face, us eating ramen together...

I had poured all my love into those digital pages, and now he dismissed it as "a stupid tablet."

"Ethan, that was my life," I whispered, looking at him with hollow eyes.

Ethan flinched at my dead stare. But Chloe's quiet whimpering quickly brought his anger back.

"Julian! Take Sera back to the apartment! She is grounded until further notice. She is not to step foot outside!"

Ethan threw the words at me coldly, then scooped Chloe up in his arms and rushed toward the yacht's medical suite.

The wealthy guests around me didn't hide their mockery.

"Yikes, she really thought she was going to be the next Mrs. Thorne. The moment Chloe comes back, this charity case is nothing."

"Exactly. She doesn't even know her place, actually hitting Chloe."

I ignored them. I forced myself up, refusing Julian's hand as he tried to help me. Dragging my limp right hand, I walked off the yacht alone.

The ER at Mount Sinai Hospital at midnight was freezing and quiet.

The doctor stared at the X-ray, his brow furrowed. "Severe wrist fracture with major soft tissue damage. You need a cast immediately. No lifting heavy objects for at least three months, let alone drawing. If it doesn't heal perfectly, you might have permanent nerve damage."

I listened in silence, using my left hand to clumsily sign the paperwork. "I understand. Thank you, Doctor."

After getting the cast, I took a cab back to our empty luxury apartment.

I didn't turn on the lights. Under the moonlight, I used my left hand to throw away every couple's cup, matching slippers, and all the cheap gifts Ethan had ever given me into trash bags.

If I was leaving, I was leaving nothing behind.

The next afternoon, Ethan's assistant called.

"Miss Vance, Mr. Thorne wants you to come to the office immediately."

I changed into a long-sleeved coat to hide the cast on my wrist and took a cab to Apex Tech.

The moment I pushed open the penthouse office door, the suffocating tension hit me.

Ethan sat behind his massive desk, his face dark. Chloe sat on the leather sofa nearby, holding a cup of Starbucks, looking down her nose at me.

Seeing me enter, Ethan slammed a document onto the desk. "Sign it."

I walked over and looked down.

Intellectual Property Transfer Agreement.

It was for my most famous illustration series, "The Deep Sea and the Star". This IP was based on our love story, and a major film studio had just offered me a million-dollar contract for the rights.

The recipient was a new media company newly registered under Chloe's name.

It was so absurd I laughed out loud. "Ethan, have you lost your mind? This is my life's work. Why should I give it to her?"

"Because you put your hands on her yesterday!" Ethan stood up, leaning over his desk, glaring down at me. "Chloe just got back and needs a major IP to launch her agency. This transfer is your apology to her."

"My apology?" I stared at him. "She stole your code! She ruined you! She almost made you jump off a building! And now you want me to give her my life's work to pave her way? Ethan, do you even have a soul?"

"Shut up!" Ethan's face turned crimson, his ego bruised. "Chloe had a choice back then! She did it to save her sick brother! You know nothing!"

Looking at this man I had loved for five years, he felt like a complete stranger.

"And if I refuse?" I asked coldly.

Ethan narrowed his eyes, his voice dripping with venom. "Sera, don't push me. The major clients for your art studio are all partners of Apex Tech. With one word from me, I can blackball you from the industry permanently. Sign it, and we can keep this civil."

He was threatening my entire career. For another woman.

I closed my eyes, swallowing the metallic taste of blood in my throat.

I reached out my left hand and picked up the pen.

"What's wrong with your right hand?" Ethan finally noticed my awkward posture, his brow twitching slightly.

"None of your business." I didn't look up, using my left hand to scribble a messy signature at the bottom.

I dropped the pen and turned to leave.

"Sera!" Ethan called out.

I stopped, but didn't turn back.

"Ethan, we are done. Completely."

Sera's POV

The moment I walked out of the Apex Tech tower, my phone rang. It was the Icelandic Embassy.

"Miss Vance, your artist residency visa has been expedited and approved. You can book your flight whenever you are ready."

"Thank you." I hung up and booked a one-way ticket to Reykjavik for three days later.

During those three days, I didn't see Ethan once.

I quietly canceled the lease on my studio, let my assistant go, and listed everything I couldn't take with me on eBay for dirt cheap.

The evening of the third day was our five-year anniversary.

In the past, no matter how busy Ethan was, he would cancel every meeting to cook dinner for me.

But tonight, the kitchen was cold, and the apartment was as silent as a tomb.

At 8 PM, my phone rang. It was Julian.

"Miss Vance, Mr. Thorne is hosting a gathering at the penthouse of The Obsidian Club tonight. He said it's to celebrate your five-year anniversary. He wants you to come over right away." Julian's voice sounded incredibly strained.

I wanted to say no, but then I thought. This would be the last time I would ever see him.

Consider it a final goodbye.

I changed into a simple black dress and took a cab to The Obsidian.

When I pushed open the heavy doors of the VIP suite, the room was dimly lit and thick with cigar smoke. Half of Manhattan's elite young crowd was there, but the atmosphere was weirdly quiet.

I immediately saw Ethan sitting in the center.

He sat with his legs crossed, holding a glass of Cabernet. In his lap was a fluffy, snow-white Ragdoll cat.

Chloe sat next to him, waving a cat toy, smiling brightly.

The moment I saw that cat, the blood drained from my face. I took a sharp step back, my spine hitting the cold door.

I have a life-threatening allergy to cat dander. It triggers severe anaphylactic asthma that can suffocate me within minutes.

Ethan knew this.

Three years ago, when Apex Tech was just taking off, a billionaire investor brought his cat to a meeting. I had an allergic reaction on the spot. Ethan literally flipped the conference table, kicked the investor out, and threw away the multi-million dollar deal just to save me.

He had promised me back then: "No one will ever make you suffer again."

But today, he held that poison in his own arms.

"Ethan, Sera is here," Chloe purred, her smile widening.

Ethan looked up, his eyes landing on my pale face. He frowned. "Why are you standing by the door? Come sit down."

I covered my nose and mouth, my voice shaking. "Get the cat out... Ethan, you know I'm allergic..."

"Sera, stop acting," Ethan scoffed, his voice filled with impatience. "Chloe loves cats, so I bought this for her. Your allergy was only because your immune system was weak back then. You've been living in luxury for years now; how could you still be allergic?"

The rich kids around the room laughed.

"Yeah, Sera, it's just a cat. Ethan threw this party for your anniversary. Don't be a party pooper."

"Even Chloe doesn't mind you being here, what are you complaining about?"

Looking at Ethan's cold, indifferent face, the very last ember in my heart died.

Without another word, I turned to open the door and leave.

"Stop right there!" Ethan snapped. "Sera, if you walk out of that door tonight, don't you ever think about coming back!"

Just then, Chloe gasped, "Oh no! Snowflake, don't run!"

The Ragdoll cat broke free from Ethan's arms, streaking like white lightning straight toward me.

"Ah!"

I couldn't dodge in time. The cat's claws caught my dress, and a cloud of white dander exploded into the air around me.

Instantly, my airway began to swell and close.

I clutched my throat, collapsing to the floor, gasping desperately for air, but my lungs remained completely empty.

"Help... please..." My face turned blue, and I stretched my left hand toward Ethan in absolute terror.

Ethan's face paled, and he jumped up to rush to me.

"Ow! It hurts!"

Chloe suddenly screamed, crouching down and clutching her hand. "Ethan, the cat scratched me... there's blood. What if I get rabies? I'm so scared..."

Ethan froze in his tracks.

He looked at me, suffocating and twitching on the floor, and then at Chloe, who had a tiny, barely visible red scratch on her hand.

"Julian! Call the club's doctor! Chloe is bleeding!"

Ethan roared, turning his back on me to scoop Chloe up, rushing out of the room.

As he ran past me, his leather dress shoe stepped right onto my outstretched fingers.

My fingers throbbed, but I could barely feel the physical pain anymore.

Lying on the cold floor, my vision began to fade. Watching Ethan carry Chloe away, a single, final tear slipped down my cheek.

Ethan Thorne, you are truly heartless.

Sera's POV

The room was in chaos, but nobody cared about the girl suffocating on the floor.

It was Julian who finally rushed over, tore open my purse, found my emergency EpiPen, and jammed it into my thigh.

"Miss Vance! Hang in there!"

The medication flooded my system, and I began to cough violently, finally clawing back a breath of air.

I pushed Julian's hand away and forced myself up against the wall, shaking.

"Miss Vance, let me take you to the hospital..." Julian said, his eyes filled with genuine worry.

"No need," my voice was raw, sounding like sandpaper. "Goodbye, Julian."

With that, I dragged my heavy steps out of The Obsidian.

At 2 AM, I returned to the apartment.

I didn't turn on the lights. I went straight to the backyard, to the old oak tree.

Four years ago, the day Ethan paid off his last debt, we buried a time capsule here. Inside were our wishes for the future.

I grabbed a small shovel, using my left hand to slowly dig up the rusted tin box.

I opened it.

My note read: "I hope Ethan is always happy, and I hope we stay together forever."

Ethan's note, written in his bold, confident handwriting, read: "I want Apex Tech to go public, and I want Chloe to come home soon."

There was no me.

From the very beginning, his dream of the future never had my name in it.

A laugh escaped my lips, turning into quiet, bitter tears that smudged the ink on the paper.

I pulled out a lighter. Click.

The flame swallowed the paper, burning his lies and my wasted youth into ashes.

Back in the bedroom, I rolled out my suitcase.

Inside were only a few old clothes I had bought myself, my passport, and my visa. The designer bags and jewelry Ethan had bought me were left completely untouched on the shelves.

I walked to the vanity table, took off the cheap $50 silver band Ethan had bought me from a street vendor years ago, and placed it quietly on the table.

Next to it, I placed the signed copy of my resignation letter.

At 4 AM, suitcase in hand, I walked out of the apartment for the last time.

In the cab to JFK airport, I called Eleanor.

"Mrs. Thorne, I'm on my way to the airport. I'm leaving for Iceland."

Eleanor's satisfied laugh came through the speaker. "Excellent. The $50 million has been wired to your Swiss account. Remember your promise. Never come back."

"Don't worry. Even if he dies in front of me, I won't look twice."

I hung up, pulled out the SIM card, snapped it in half, and threw it out the window.

Then, I deleted my Instagram and all my social media accounts.

But before going to JFK, I had to stop by my old studio in Brooklyn to pick up my mother's journal, the last thing I had left.

The flight to Reykjavik wasn't for another three hours. I thought I had time.

But just as I zipped my backpack, a loud crash echoed. The wooden door of the studio was kicked open.

I looked up in shock to see Chloe Bennett walking in, wearing head-to-toe Chanel and towering stilettos. Behind her stood two burly bodyguards.

"Well, well. Took $50 million just to rot in a dump like this?" Chloe looked around the dusty studio, pinching her nose in disgust, her eyes dripping with malice.

I tensed, staring at her coldly. "What are you doing here?"

"Where do you think you're going?" Chloe sneered, stepping closer. "Sera, you made my life a living hell. Did you really think you could just take that money and walk away?"

"I made your life hell?" I scoffed. "Chloe, you got Ethan back. What else do you want?"

"I want you ruined!" Chloe's face distorted with rage, and she nodded to her guards.

The two men instantly lunged forward, pinning me face-down onto the dirty floor.

Chloe walked over, her eyes locking onto my struggling right hand. A cruel smile stretched across her face. "I heard you're an illustrator. Ethan told me your hands are worth millions."

A wave of sheer terror washed over me. "Chloe, don't you dare!"

"Why wouldn't I? I'm the real Mrs. Thorne now!" Chloe raised her foot, and the sharp heel of her stiletto came down hard on my right wrist.

"AH!"

A blood-curdling scream tore from my throat, echoing in the empty studio.

Chloe didn't stop. She put all her weight on it, grinding her heel into my flesh. The sickening crunch of breaking bones filled the small room.

"You love to draw, don't you? Let's see you seduce men with a shattered hand!"

The agony was a tidal wave, drowning my senses. I convulsed, cold sweat soaking my clothes instantly.

"Chloe, you will pay for this." I bit my lip so hard blood dripped down my chin.

"You will die first." Chloe's eyes drifted to my stomach, her smile growing more demonic. "Don't think I don't know you visited the OB-GYN last week. You want to trap Ethan with a baby? In your dreams."

Before I could process her words, Chloe kicked me violently in the stomach.

Once. Twice. Three times.

A guttural scream of absolute agony escaped my lips. A sharp, tearing pain ripped through my lower abdomen. A warm, thick liquid began to flow down my thighs, quickly staining the wooden floor crimson.

Looking at me lying like a broken ragdoll in a pool of my own blood, completely unconscious, Chloe finally smiled in satisfaction and walked out with her men.