Ex Kneels on the New York Award Stage

All it took was one spoiled line from CEO’s daughter Chloe Harrington—“My hand hurts”—and my boyfriend Ethan Caldwell made me stand under the blazing sun until I blacked out.

Then he did it himself: a swing of a wooden stick, a sick crack—and it was my drawing hand that broke.

Seven years of scraping and saving for our future?

He turned it into a down payment on a Hamptons house—for her.
The competition piece I bled over night after night?
He tossed it online and sold it like it was nothing, just to play “secret rich boy” in front of Chloe.

And then, on the stage of the New York International Art Awards, he drops to one knee with a ring, voice shaking:

“Grace Whitman… I can’t live without you.”

I smile—and slap my blood-stained sketchbook against his chest in front of everyone.

“You spent seven years kissing up to power. You burned whatever love I had left to ash.”

I turn away and take the hand of Noah Bennett, the award-winning artist who actually knows my worth—sign a new contract, step into a new life.

As for Ethan? One call to the cops, a restraining order, and he’s shipped back to whatever small town he crawled out of—left with nothing but regret.

A redemption arc? A “win-her-back” story?

Sorry. I already rewrote the script.

Chapter 1

Because my boss’s daughter, Chloe Harrington, said her hand hurt, I ended up standing under the scorching sun until I passed out.

My right wrist still took the worst of it. Ethan Caldwell brought a wooden stick down on it three times, hard, until I said I was sorry.

The down payment I’d scraped together for seven years, money meant for our first home, became a down payment on a house in the Hamptons, all to win Chloe over.

On the awards stage of an international competition, he held up a ring and choked out, “Grace, I can’t do this without you.”

I smiled and slapped my blood-stained competition sketch across his face. “Seven years of kissing up to power, you turned my love into ashes.”

I’d just finished booking my flight, the confirmation still glowing on my phone, when Ethan pushed the door open with a small bottle in his hand.

“I got this through someone I know,” he said, offering it to me. “It’s strong. Put it on and you’ll heal faster.”

I glanced at the half-peeled label on the bottle, pressed my lips together, and looked at him sideways.

“I’m fine. It doesn’t hurt that much anymore.”

He sounded annoyed. “You’re still sulking. If you want to blame someone, blame yourself for starting trouble.”

Then, like he’d run out of patience, “That stubborn streak of yours, when are you going to fix it.”

Before I could refuse again, he tipped the medicine straight onto my wound.

The pain hit like a white-hot spike. I bit down so hard I almost blacked out.

He knew exactly what my right hand meant to me.

He did it anyway, even if it meant I might never be able to hold a pen again.

All to give Chloe some satisfaction.

When he saw the blood at the corner of my mouth, he actually pushed his fingers between my teeth. “Remember how this feels,” he said. “Next time, don’t mess with people you shouldn’t.”

The words lodged in my chest like a splinter. I couldn’t breathe right.

The next day, I insisted on checking out, and Chloe was there waiting.

She’d brought a pile of bone-in food, acting like she was doing me a favor, saying you should eat whatever matches the injury.

I could barely taste anything, but I forced down a few bites and turned to head back to my room.

Behind me, Chloe’s sweet voice floated over. “Grace, bones are good for you. Lots of calcium. Why aren’t you eating?”

Then she added, still smiling, “Guess Grace is still mad at me.”

Her eyes reddened on cue, tears gathering like she could turn them on with a switch.

I hadn’t even opened my mouth when Ethan shot me a hard look. “Chloe went out of her way,” he said. “She bought all this and her hand has marks from carrying it.”

“Grace, don’t be ungrateful. It’s for your own good.”

He lowered his head and wiped at the tear that wasn’t really there, all gentle and careful.

I stood frozen, my throat tight, everything inside me a mess.

I remembered the time I got a sharp bone stuck in my throat from soup.

Back then, Ethan had been sick with worry. He’d blamed himself, swore that as long as he was around, I wouldn’t have to touch bone-in food again.

So I reached forward, grabbed a handful of bones, and shoved them into my mouth.

My stomach churned, but I forced myself to swallow.

“There,” I said, voice steady. “Happy now?”

They stared at me like they couldn’t believe what they’d just seen.

I turned and walked back to my room.

As the door closed, I heard them laughing outside.

“Grace looked just like Rover,” Chloe giggled. “I was joking. She actually did it.”

Ethan chuckled. “She’s just too frugal.”

Somewhere along the line, Chloe had wedged herself between us.

After she showed up, Ethan cared less and less about me.

At first, I told myself it was because she was his boss’s daughter, because of office politics.

But then I caught the way he looked at her.

It was familiar, the same look he’d once given me back when everything between us was still soft and almost sweet.

When you can’t feel love, it’s because it’s not there.

So I was going to leave.

“Grace,” Ethan said one day, “Chloe’s on her period. What do you girls eat to feel better?”

I looked up, stunned.

He’d never even poured me a cup of hot water. He’d always just told me to ride it out.

Now he was standing over the counter, carefully making something warm and sweet, ginger milk with brown sugar and tapioca pearls, spooning it into a bowl like he’d done it a hundred times.

He didn’t look at me once. He just set it down and said, “I think you’re around that time too. Drink what’s left.”

Then he walked out like it was nothing.

Of course it came easily to him when he cared.

The first time I ever tasted something Ethan made with his own hands, I only got it because of someone else.

That afternoon, Chloe bounced back and suggested we go outside for some fresh air.

Ethan knew I was sensitive to sunlight, but he said, “Chloe doesn’t feel well and she’s not as dramatic as you. Don’t ruin it for everyone.”

I stood under the trees with my umbrella, staying in the shade as much as I could, watching them laugh in the distance.

Then Chloe suddenly appeared beside me, grabbed my wrist, and yanked me toward the lake.

I wasn’t ready. The pull threw off my balance, and the next thing I knew I was going straight into the water.

From the shore, Chloe doubled over laughing.

I dragged myself up, soaked and shaking, using every bit of strength I had.

Chloe stared at me with that playful, satisfied look.

I kept my voice flat. “Apologize.”

Ethan saw Chloe’s hurt little expression and his face darkened instantly.

“Enough,” he snapped.

“Chloe was just trying to get you to move around a little. Who knew you were that clumsy.”

Then, colder, “You’re so petty. You should’ve stayed under.”

He wrapped an arm around Chloe and walked away with her.

A gust of wind cut through me. I lowered my head, bit my lip, and hugged myself tight.

I wiped the water off with a towel, hands trembling.

And in my head, I started counting down the days until I was gone.

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