After seven months as Ethan Blackwood’s wife, Hazel finally believed she had taken the place of his first love in his heart.

“Still zoning out?”

Hazel’s back hit the cold tile wall of the shower. Ethan caught both her wrists in one hand and pinned them above her head. His other palm slid to her waist and pressed hard enough to leave marks.

His mouth brushed her ear. He took her earlobe between his teeth and bit down slowly, in no hurry at all.

Heat rolled through her. She bit her lip to keep quiet, and he laughed under his breath like he’d won something.

Six hours ago, she had been sure she was losing.

Her phone had lit up at lunch.

The alumni group chat.

Someone had posted photos of Ethan at the airport arrivals gate, holding a huge bouquet of roses. A woman in a white coat stood beside him, laughing up at him.

Sofia Lane.

Ethan’s first love.

The girl he had looked after all through college. The one everyone had always assumed he would marry.

The comments kept coming.

*Our Ethan went to the airport himself. Wow.*

*First love is back. Who else is placing bets on round two?*

Hazel had put her phone facedown and finished her lunch.

Then she had spent the entire afternoon waiting for the text that said, *Don’t wait up.*

It never came.

He walked in at nine, loosened his tie, looked at her across the living room, and said, “Come here.”

Now his breath was against her neck, and nobody else was in the room.

So that was the answer, wasn’t it?

He had gone to the airport, and then he had come home to her.

Sofia was the past.

Hazel was the wife.

---

An hour later, she lay limp against his chest.

He carried her to the master bedroom, set her down, and shrugged into his robe.

This was where he usually left.

They had separate rooms, even after nights like this.

Their marriage had never started with love.

The Grants and the Blackwoods had been tied together for decades, and their grandfathers had talked about marrying them off since they were children.

When the match finally became useful to both families, the wedding happened.

Tonight, somehow, Ethan sat down on the edge of her bed instead.

“You’ve been busy lately,” he said. “How’s work?”

Hazel blinked.

Seven months, and he had never once asked.

“Fine,” she said carefully. “Why?”

“Can’t I ask?” One corner of his mouth lifted. “You’re my wife.”

*My wife.*

He said it like it was easy.

Hazel pulled the blanket up and sat against the headboard.

“Richard’s moving up at the end of the year. The editor-in-chief seat is opening.”

Once she started, it was hard to stop.

She told him she was the only lead reporter at TR right now, that she had been working toward Richard’s position for years, and that the next few months could decide everything.

Halfway through, Hazel caught herself talking too much.

She almost stopped.

Ethan had never cared about newsroom politics, deadlines, interviews, or the endless small battles behind every published story. She wondered if she was boring him.

But he didn’t interrupt.

He was still looking at her.

So Hazel kept talking.

Maybe he really did want to know.

“Actually,” Ethan said before she finished, “I need to talk to you about something related.”

Hazel smiled.

“If this is some early congratulations gift, don’t bother yet. Richard hasn’t appointed me.”

“Sofia’s back.”

The smile stayed on her face a second too long.

“I know,” Hazel said. “I saw the photos. You picked her up at the airport.”

*With roses.*

“She’s been abroad six years. Someone had to meet her.”

“Someone.” Hazel kept her voice even. “And you knew she was coming.”

“She told me in the summer.”

“Summer…” Hazel looked at him. “You’ve been in touch with her for months, and you never mentioned it.”

“You and Sofia barely know each other. She’s an old friend of mine.” Ethan’s tone stayed casual. “I don’t see why I need to report every conversation I have to you.”

The room was quiet.

Hazel drew in a slow breath and swallowed the words *I’m your wife.*

Maybe he did have a point.

She and Sofia had never been close. Knowing sooner would only have made things awkward.

“So what did you want to talk to me about?”

“Sofia starts at TR on Monday. Lead reporter. I made a call to Richard.”

He paused.

“She’ll need help settling in. Let her join your project and introduce her to some of your contacts.”

Hazel stared at him.

“That’s why you asked about my work,” she said. “So you could tell me to give it away.”

“Share it,” Ethan corrected. “I’m not asking you to hand over your life. It’s one project. You’re a Blackwood. Nobody expects you to claw your way up anyone’s ladder. Sofia’s been out of the country for years. She doesn’t have a single contact here. She can’t start from zero.”

Hazel laughed.

It sounded wrong, even to her.

“A Blackwood?” She looked at him. “No one at TR even knows I’m Mrs. Blackwood.”

Keeping the marriage private had been Ethan’s only request when they married.

No announcement. No press. Outside their families, no one needed to know Hazel Grant had become Mrs. Blackwood.

Hazel had agreed.

Because she loved him, she had been willing to do anything that made this marriage easier for him.

“Don’t make it sound like I forced you into anything,” Ethan said. “You agreed. You said keeping it private was better for both of us. You didn’t want people questioning your work because you were my wife.”

“I know what I said.”

Hazel looked at him for a moment.

“But if Sofia were your wife, would you have asked her the same thing on your wedding night?”

Ethan’s expression cooled.

“What kind of question is that?”

“A simple one.”

“You spend all day interviewing people, and this is the best you can come up with? A hypothetical about Sofia?” His mouth curved without humor. “No wonder you’re so upset about her joining TR. You’re afraid you’ll lose to her.”

Hazel felt cold all over.

For a second, she could only look at him.

She had expected him to dismiss her jealousy. She had even expected him to defend Sofia.

But she hadn’t expected him to dismiss her work too.

As if being a lead reporter was just another title Mrs. Blackwood liked to play with.

For seven months, Hazel had tried to hold on to her career and this marriage at the same time.

Three months after the wedding, Richard had offered her the New York bureau rotation—the kind of assignment that could have put her first in line for editor-in-chief.

She had told Ethan about it over dinner.

He had barely looked up.

*Go if you want. But if Mom asks why we’re living apart right after getting married, what am I supposed to tell her?*

Hazel had turned it down.

Last month, she had walked out of a live interview halfway through, handed her notes to a colleague, and driven across the city so she could make the Blackwoods’ charity gala on time.

She had arrived still wearing the suit she’d worn to the interview.

Ethan had taken one look at her and frowned.

*You came dressed like that?*

She had told herself this was what marriage required.

Compromise.

Patience.

Making room for another person in a life that had once belonged only to her.

But standing there now, Hazel suddenly wondered what any of those sacrifices meant if the person she had made them for never saw them as sacrifices at all.

She looked at Ethan.

There was one question she wanted answered before she gave up completely.

“Have you ever loved me?”

The room went quiet again.

Ethan’s expression changed slightly.

He didn’t say no.

Somehow, that was worse.

“You knew what this marriage was from the beginning,” Ethan said at last. “I didn’t marry you because of love.”

Hazel sat there without moving.

Of course she knew.

She had known from the beginning.

Before the wedding, she had asked Ethan for one year.

One year to see whether living together, sharing a home, becoming part of each other’s lives could change anything.

And if, after that year, he still felt nothing for her, she would leave.

Ethan had agreed.

At the time, Hazel had truly believed she could make him love her.

Now she finally understood how foolish that hope had been.

“Let’s get divorced.”

Her lips trembled as she said it.

Ethan stared at her.

A second later, he gave a cold laugh.

“So this is what? Another way to throw a tantrum?”

Hazel’s fingers tightened around the edge of the blanket.

“You were the one who asked for a year,” he said. “You said if I still didn’t love you after one year, you’d leave. It’s only been seven months.”

Only seven months.

How easy it was for someone who had never tried to make this marriage work to say that.

Hazel looked at him.

“I don’t want to waste the other five.”

This time, her voice was steadier.

The silence between them stretched.

Ethan’s face darkened.

He stared at her for a long moment before suddenly getting to his feet.

“Fine. If you want a divorce, I won’t stop you.”

He took two steps toward the door, then stopped.

“But think carefully, Hazel. Once we divorce, it’s real.”

His voice was low and flat.

“Don’t come back in a few months because you regret it.”

He gave a faint, humorless smile.

“I won’t take you back.”

Hazel looked at him for a long moment.

Then she said,

“I won’t ask you to.”

The door closed behind Ethan.

Hazel sat still for a moment before reaching for her phone.

She opened Emma’s chat.

**Hazel:** I need you to draft the divorce agreement.

The reply came almost immediately.

**Emma:** Are you serious? What happened?

**Emma:** How soon do you want it?

Hazel’s fingers paused over the screen.

**Hazel:** I know you have a lot to ask. But I need it as soon as possible.

She had barely put down her phone when it rang again.

This time, it was Richard.

Hazel answered, but before she could say a word, Richard spoke first.

“We have a problem. Tomorrow’s interview is gone. The subject just got exposed. We need a replacement before the issue closes.”

Hazel pressed her fingers to her temple.

“Who do we have?”

A short silence.

“There’s only one possible option. Ethan Blackwood.”

Hazel went still.

“Not possible. He never accepts interviews.”

“That’s why I need you to find a way to get him.”