Chapter 3: Tensions and Ice Cream Troubles

Before Emily could respond, Jessica interjected, "Big star, aren't you busy today? No shooting schedule?"

Then she leaned towards Emily and whispered, "Remember Bella? She broke into the entertainment industry a couple of years ago, changed her name to Olivia, and even altered her age. Now she's two years younger than you."

Emily was momentarily speechless.

She remembered now.

Bella had been a classmate of theirs, always a flashy character. Her family had struck it rich during an industry boom, the epitome of new money.

Emily's circle generally didn't mingle with people like Bella. It was a "stay in your lane" situation, but Bella seemed to enjoy competing with Emily. She'd monitor everything Emily wore or used, eager to one-up her.

In Paris, Emily's mother's side of the family was well-known as an old-money family, with three generations in the fashion and jewelry business, earning a solid reputation in the industry. Emily's mother was also a Parisian socialite, so Emily's tastes were nurtured to be top-notch. She often wore custom high fashion that wasn't even available for purchase.

Bella had made a fool of herself a few times trying to imitate Emily, and Emily had often responded with sharp words that left Bella silently fuming.

Bella had left school after only a year, but now she'd apparently made it as a minor celebrity.

With her obvious cosmetic enhancements, Emily hadn't recognized her at first. Jessica's reference to her as a "big star" was generous; despite all her family's efforts, Bella hadn't made much of a splash, struggling to even hold onto a spot as a third-tier celebrity.

Olivia looked momentarily flustered at the mention of filming. Just days before, she had been publicly humiliated when a director replaced her for incompetence. Now, with no work lined up, she was spending her days doing nothing.

Ignoring Jessica's dig, Olivia smiled and asked Emily, "You're free too, I see. Out shopping?"

"Yep," Emily shrugged casually, "Being a rich wife is all about leisure. Nothing better to do than spending my husband's money."

Olivia was visibly thrown off by this.

Jessica nearly lost it, struggling to keep a straight face. Just moments ago, Emily had been calling him "Ethan," and now suddenly, he was "husband?"

Olivia's expression soured. She was certain that Emily had fallen on hard times—no way she had married into a wealthy family. Who wears last season's fashion in a wealthy family?

Olivia glanced down at Emily's slightly creased flats, then at her own brand new L-branded knee-high boots, and smirked.

"You really should treat yourself to some new shoes."

Emily simply hummed nonchalantly and began to walk away with Jessica.

She knew exactly what Olivia was insinuating but wasn't in the mood to engage in verbal sparring. Olivia was the same as ever, not worth her time.

Besides, she had more pressing matters to deal with—like discussing a divorce with her wealthy husband.

But Olivia wasn't about to let her get away so easily after all these years. She stepped forward to block Emily's path and began, "You wouldn't—ah!!"

Her sentence was cut off by a sharp scream.

At the same time, Emily softly exclaimed, "Oh dear."

Her vanilla ice cream had fallen, landing squarely on Olivia's new boots.

The once-pristine boots were now covered in a sticky mess, with splatters reaching her pant leg as well.

Olivia was speechless.

Emily was equally silent.

Jessica could only stare.

"You did that on purpose!" Olivia's face contorted with anger. "You're crazy, Emily!"

Emily gazed down at her now half-eaten ice cream, feigning innocence.

Honestly, it wasn't intentional. The vanilla ice cream was delicious—why would she waste it?

"You rushed over so suddenly, I didn't see you… Sorry about that."

Her tone, however, lacked any genuine remorse. If anything, Emily looked more disappointed about losing a scoop of ice cream than ruining Olivia's boots.

Those lambskin boots were probably ruined, and Olivia's heart ached with the loss.

Emily observed her pained expression and waved dismissively. "Forget it, I'll buy you a new pair."

Without waiting for a response, she led the way towards the L-brand store, but Olivia quickly caught up, "I don't need you to!"

She rolled her eyes dramatically at Emily. "They're expensive!"

The implication being that Emily, who was wearing last season's shoes, couldn't possibly afford them.

Olivia stormed towards the entrance of the store, but before she could enter, a smiling sales associate raised an arm to stop her.

"Apologies," the associate said politely, "but we cannot serve you at the moment."

Olivia was stunned. She watched as the same associate turned to Emily, smiling warmly as she inclined her head.

"Ms. Clarke is one of our Super VIP clients. According to our policy, we must clear the store to serve her exclusively."

**

Ethan finished his video conference and instinctively checked his phone.

The screen was completely blank except for the time.

No missed calls, no messages.

It was unusually quiet.

Ethan asked Jason, "What's going on with my wife?"

Jason hesitated for a moment.

Mrs. Harrison had been unusually peaceful today.

Knowing how much Chairman Harrison hated being pestered by his wife at inopportune moments, Jason wasn't sure how to respond. Why ask about her when she's finally left you alone?

Not knowing what to say, he simply reported, "The doctors said she's fine. She woke up and went to Ginza with Miss Jessica. The driver just reported that they're on their way home."

Ethan hummed dismissively, his lips curling in a slight sneer.

He wasn't surprised in the least.

This was nothing new. She'd pulled these stunts too many times before. If he didn't give her attention, she'd sulk and then go on a spending spree with his credit cards.

Now she was even pretending to have amnesia.

Did she think her life was a soap opera?

As for her supposed agreement to a divorce, it was probably just another attempt to lure him back.

His wife would never agree to a divorce so easily.

The driver in the front seat turned and informed him, "Chairman Harrison, there's a message from home—Charlotte has arrived."

Ethan's eyes narrowed as he looked up, frowning slightly, "What is she doing here?"

**

Jessica sat nearby, leisurely eating her ice cream, as she watched Super VIP Ms. Clarke spend money like there was no tomorrow.

Emily didn't invite Olivia into the store, and the sales staff upheld the policy to the letter. Despite Olivia's frantic insistence that they should know who she was, she was not allowed entry.

Emily, meanwhile, continued shopping unabated, completely indifferent to Olivia's fuming glares.

Emily even bought three pairs of those lambskin boots, each in her size, and picked up one of every color of a new handbag. It was as if money were no object.

And why shouldn't she spend Ethan's money? What's wrong with that?

Feeling a sense of satisfaction as the sales associate smoothly processed her purchases, Emily had to admit that while Ethan might be a jerk, his money wasn't.

This thought earned Ethan a small bump up in her mental rating of him.

But whether he was at a negative five or negative ten didn't make much of a difference.

In high spirits, Emily left the store, laden with bags, and headed home.

The "Creston Manor" lived up to its name. Standing nearly twenty stories tall, the luxurious private residence included everything from a cinema and spa to a gym and gardens. The top floor even had a helipad—it was practically a private kingdom.

The elevator took her directly to the living area. The doors opened with a soft "ding," and Emily stepped out gracefully.

The door to a side room was slightly ajar, light spilling out along with muffled voices.

Emily peeked inside and froze.

A woman stood there, smiling as she spoke with a man in front of her.

The man was tall, his figure unmistakable. He held his jacket over one arm, his rolled-up sleeve exposing his defined forearm muscles.

It was Ethan. Emily blinked in surprise.

The scene felt familiar yet distant.

The last time she had seen him was at a banquet during one of her breaks back home.

She had hurried past him in her gown, nodding briefly in acknowledgment. He had leaned against the staircase, long fingers holding a wine glass, his eyes deeply fixed on her.

He had grown even more refined in the years since they last met, his presence even more commanding. The youthful traces were gone, replaced with a mature, sharp, and handsome look. He seemed more solid, with the broad shoulders and narrow waist typical of someone who worked out regularly. He even seemed… taller?

She stood at just over 5'7" in flats, yet he appeared to tower over her by more than half a head.

Emily had to admit—Ethan seemed even more attractive than before.

The woman in the room suddenly laughed, her bright eyes sparkling as she smiled sweetly.

Ethan lowered his gaze to her, his expression unreadable.

"Mrs. Clarke, you're back."

Emily turned to see an older housekeeper bowing respectfully.

The housekeeper glanced towards the two in the room before quickly looking back at Emily, "Charlotte just arrived. She said she had some business with Mr. Harrison…"

"Charlotte?" Emily raised an eyebrow, then slowly nodded in realization.

So, this was the "kind, smart, and more suitable for Ethan" Charlotte

?

Emily watched the two interact, a wry smile playing on her lips.

Hah.

They weren't even divorced yet, and they were already making themselves at home?

With a soft scoff, Emily turned and walked upstairs.

Fine.

She'd make room for them, starting right now.

**

"This isn't appropriate."

Christine's breath hitched as she looked up at Ethan in confusion.

Ethan didn't meet her gaze, instead absently fiddling with the ring on his left hand.

"I said, I'm married," he repeated coldly, "Attending this with you wouldn't be appropriate."

Christine was momentarily stunned by Ethan's blunt refusal.

She quickly composed herself, her lips curling into a perfect smile, "But aren't you getting a divorce?"

Ethan paused his fidgeting and sharply looked up at her, eyes cold.

"Who told you that I'm getting a divorce?"

Christine smiled enigmatically.

"In a few days, my father will be visiting Mr. Harrison Sr. He said that even though there were misunderstandings and regrets between us… the longstanding relationship between our families should outweigh those things."

Christine's words were clear. With the current power and influence of the Harrison family, Ethan could divorce in the morning and have women lining up by evening. She wasn't about to miss her chance.

"Charlotte, you're mistaken. There was never any misunderstanding between us." Ethan's tone was cold as he met her gaze without flinching.

Before the marriage, Christine had showered him with attention, but he had never once acknowledged her.

"And besides, even if I were getting a divorce, not just any woman would be able to walk through the Harrison family's door."

Christine's expression darkened.

She understood the implication: she, Christine, in terms of appearance, family background, or temperament, could never measure up to his wife.

Even if they were divorced, she wouldn't measure up.

Still unwilling to give up, Christine lifted her chin, "My father said he'll discuss it further with Mr. Harrison Sr…"

"That won't be necessary." Ethan cut her off, his tone final as he turned away, "Right now, the Harrison family is under my command."

**

Christine left the Creston Manor in a hurry, almost as if fleeing.

"Mr. Guan."

The butler immediately bowed, "Yes, Mr. Harrison."

"Look into who's been gossiping around the house," Ethan instructed calmly, "And ensure their pay is settled tomorrow."

The butler's face stiffened, "Understood."

**

Ethan pushed open the bedroom door and paused.

The spacious room was in disarray, filled with women's belongings.

Their master bedroom had been newly renovated after the wedding. Per his wife's request, the walk-in closet was nearly as large as the bedroom itself. Yet even that often wasn't enough space for all her things.

Now, the luxury brand bags delivered today lined the hallway like a row of soldiers leading into the closet—today's spoils of war.

On the floor were two large suitcases, half-filled with clothes and belongings.

Ethan closed his eyes briefly, trying to suppress his growing irritation.

Not this again.

Running away from home had practically become her signature move.

He walked further in and spotted her sitting on the closet floor.

"Emily, have you had enough?"

Emily looked up from packing, confused by his sudden appearance.

Ethan glanced away, clearly avoiding her gaze. His brow furrowed, and with a rough motion, he yanked off his tie.

"I don't have time for this. Stop it."

Emily blinked.

What was with that tone?

She had prepared herself for their strained relationship, but she hadn't expected him to be this blunt.

Ethan really couldn't say anything nice, could he?

Standing in the doorway, Ethan continued to spew unkind words, "I already told you—I'm busy with work."

Emily silently stared at him for a couple of seconds before rising to her feet, her gaze sincere as she spoke.

"Overworking can lead to sudden death. You should be careful."