Broken Keys, Broken Vows: The Heiress's Revenge

On the day Ethan Pierce won the company’s annual Elite Performance Award, the host asked him who he wanted to thank the most. My feet were already on the steps, ready to walk up to the stage with him. But his eyes bypassed me completely. He looked right past me, focusing on his assistant, Chloe Miller, who was standing under the bright spotlight. He touched the hidden pendant around his neck, smiled, and said into the microphone: "Without Chloe—without her staying by my side through the hardest ten years of my life—I would never have made it to this executive suite!" Under the giant screen, they held each other tight, tears streaming down their faces. They looked exactly like a couple deeply in love. I stood in the dark, gently rubbing my slightly swollen lower belly. Then, I pulled out my phone and dialed the clinic. "Yes. I’m calling to confirm the abortion." 1 "Vivian, are you sure? I remember how hard you and Ethan tried to conceive this baby. Are you really doing this?" I looked at the two stars of the night on the stage. The flashing lights and roaring applause drowned me out. It was as if I wasn't the one who had spent a whole decade dragging Ethan out of the mud. It was as if Chloe was the one who had been there all along. Swallowing the bitter pain in my chest, I spoke into the phone, my voice trembling but firm: "Yes. I am sure. Book the procedure." The doctor fell silent. He knew better than anyone how much time and money I had spent just to get pregnant. Countless prenatal checkups, endless ultrasounds. I used to ask the doctor a million anxious questions every week, pouring my entire soul into this pregnancy. After all, we had been trying to conceive. For three long years. Who would have thought that the words "abort the baby" would ever come out of my mouth? "Vivian, I respect your decision," the doctor sighed. "But your body is naturally fragile. If you go through with this, you might never be able to get pregnant again. Plus—" I cut him off. "I’ve made up my mind, Dr. Reynolds." On stage, a romantic French love song began to play, pushing the atmosphere to a climax. Ethan dropped to one knee. Just like the dozens of times he had passionately proposed to me in private, he looked up at Chloe and said: "Will you walk with me down the path of my future career, side by side, as my partner in everything?" The crowd went wild. Chloe covered her mouth, tears of joy sparkling in her eyes as she stood there, looking like the happiest woman in the world. It was a perfect fairytale scene. I looked down at the ring finger on my left hand, where half of the bone was slightly crooked. A cold laugh escaped my lips. I had actually believed Ethan when he promised he would publicly announce our ten-year secret marriage at this gala. It was all a lie. This public proposal was premeditated. The only problem was, the bride-to-be. Wasn't me. So, what did my ten years of sacrifice mean? To pay for his Ivy League tuition and his startup dreams, I had played the piano at late-night gigs until I almost died of exhaustion. I had literally broken my ring finger on the keys. What did that mean now? When Ethan found out I had ruined my finger for him, he had knelt outside my door for a whole day and night, begging me to marry him. He had looked just as madly in love with me then as he did with Chloe now. The moment Chloe whispered her "Yes" to his proposal, I turned and walked away from the noise. When Ethan clipped my wings years ago, I lost the ability to sit at a grand piano and feel the keys properly. Because of him, I had abandoned my greatest passion. I had filed down my sharp edges, hidden my pride as a world-class heiress, and reduced myself to a quiet housewife. I had traded my dreams for groceries and laundry. But today, as I mentally pulled the dusty cover off my old piano, I suddenly remembered— I was once the most dazzling, proudest pianist under the spotlight. Yet, looking at my calloused hands now, I barely recognized myself. Ethan didn't get home until very late. And he brought Chloe with him. Only this time, they were holding hands. Seeing that I was still awake, Ethan quickly let go of her fingers. He tried to act natural, frowning at me: "Why aren't you in bed? Did you forget you have to do the weekly grocery run at the farmers' market tomorrow morning?" For the twelve years I had been with him, I had managed every single detail of this house. Twelve years. I had never complained. I didn’t even look at him. I just replied flatly: "I have a clinic appointment tomorrow. I won't be doing the groceries." Hearing about the clinic, his eyes lit up, and his tone softened a bit: "Right, you need to get more checkups. We worked so hard for this baby; we can't let anything go wrong." Then, his gaze fell on my bare ring finger. His voice dropped. "Where's your wedding ring?" "Oh," I said casually. "I took it off when I took a shower. It’s on the sink." Maybe because he felt guilty about what happened at the gala with Chloe, he didn’t push it. "I'm starving. Go make us two bowls of scallion noodles. Chloe doesn't like eggs or cilantro, so watch the ingredients." My fingernails dug into my palms. A wave of ice rushed through my veins. We had been together for twelve years. How did he treat me? When I had severe cramps during my period, he would order me iced boba tea. I would be curled up on the couch, unable to speak from the pain, and he would yell at me for being ungrateful and dramatic. I hated vinegar in my noodles, but he would always place a bowl dripping with vinegar in front of me. I had told him my preferences a thousand times, but Ethan never cared enough to remember. He just called me high-maintenance. And here I was, thinking he was just a man who didn’t know how to love. Turns out, he knew exactly how to care. He just didn't care about me. 2 "Order takeout. I'm tired today." Beside him, Chloe glared at Ethan in annoyance before putting on her sweet, fake act: "Ethan, she's pregnant. Pregnant women are fragile. How could you let her cook? I'm fine being a little hungry. We can't make Vivian work." Hearing that Chloe was hungry, Ethan’s temper flared instantly. "What is your problem, Vivian? If you’re mad that I didn't announce our marriage tonight, just say it! Why are you giving me attitude now?" "Can you stop acting like a spoiled child? Chloe worked from dawn till dusk for this gala. Do you think everyone is like you, just staying at home all day, doing nothing and living off my money?" He dumped all his frustration on me, just like he always did. He never cared about my feelings. Seeing that I remained silent, he added bitterly: "Don't forget who paid for this house and who has been supporting us for the last ten years. Without me, could you even survive?" "Whatever. I don't want to fight tonight. It’s a celebration, and you’re ruining the mood!" I looked at Ethan's face, twisted with anger because he wanted to defend Chloe. It was so incredibly ironic. From beginning to end, what did I do wrong? I just said I didn't want to cook. Was that a crime? "Ethan, you swore to me that you would announce our ten-year marriage at the gala tonight. Did you do it?" "I’m not even fighting with you. My silence is the greatest mercy I’m giving you. What right do you have to yell at me?" I didn't bottle it up this time. Because this time, I genuinely felt disgusted by my own past tolerance. Seeing the tension rise, Chloe gave me a smug, subtle smirk. Then, she clung to Ethan's arm and sighed softly: "Ethan, everyone knows how much you've sacrificed for this marriage. But Vivian is still throwing a tantrum over a public announcement." "Doesn't she know that going public with our corporate partnership is the only way to take your career to the next level?" By the end of her sentence, Chloe’s voice was barely a whisper, making her look like the victim. I almost laughed out loud. Ethan looked like a dog with its tail stepped on. He roared: "Vivian Vance, do you have a conscience? Everything I do is for you, and instead of appreciating it, you mock me?" "If it weren't for the baby in your belly, I would have divorced you a long time ago!" Chloe clung tighter to his arm, looking like a delicate, helpless flower. Ethan’s tone softened instantly as he looked at her, then turned back to me: "Fine, Vivian." "You're pregnant. Stop throwing tantrums. It's bad for the baby. Go to sleep. I'll drive you to your checkup tomorrow." In his eyes, any emotion I showed was just "throwing a tantrum." Any half-hearted apology he gave was a favor I had to accept, otherwise I was just "petty." He treated me like this only because I had spent a decade acting like his loyal, desperate puppy. I had lowered my standards to the floor, given up my music, and turned myself into his shadow. This was my own fault. The next morning, Ethan slammed my bedroom door open. He stood over me while I was still half-asleep, furious. "What is up with the suitcases on the floor? Where do you think you’re going?" Where? To leave you, and this city, forever. I rubbed my eyes and said naturally: 3 "I signed up for a pregnancy wellness retreat. Just to clear my head." He didn't suspect a thing. "Fine. Just be careful. Stop running around like a child. Remember you’re pregnant." "Chloe has a fever. Get out of bed. We need to drop her off at the clinic first. I'll drive both of you." "Okay," I replied. My appointment was this morning anyway. I didn't want to delay it, so I didn't argue. The door slammed shut. By the time I finished packing and went down to the garage, Chloe was already sitting comfortably in the passenger seat. Seeing me approach, she made a show of struggling to sit up, asking weakly: "I'm so sorry, Vivian. I accidentally sat in your seat." Before she could move, Ethan pushed her back down. He gave me a cold, commanding look: "Chloe gets motion sickness. Let her sit in the front." For the past ten years, whenever Chloe was around, the passenger seat never belonged to me. I was used to it. I didn't have the energy to watch them act. I just opened the back door and got in. But the moment I stepped inside, the heavy scent of gardenia perfume hit my nose. It rushed straight down my throat. My face flushed instantly. I struggled to roll down the window, coughing violently. Looking down at my arms, small red hives were already starting to break out. Everyone who knew me knew I was severely allergic to gardenias. I had ended up in the ICU once and almost died. But I never expected Ethan to remember that. He only remembered me when he needed something. Looking through the rearview mirror, Ethan’s face was filled with impatience. "All I hear is you coughing, Vivian. Do you have to be so loud?" "We got up early just to take you to the clinic, and you’re making all this noise. Can't you show some consideration for Chloe? She’s trying to sleep." A sharp, throbbing pain pierced my chest. I couldn't even count how many times Ethan had defended Chloe over me. But this time, I didn't cry. I didn't beg for his attention, and I didn't sit in the corner wiping my tears, hoping he would love me again. I just leaned my head against the cold glass, letting the chilly wind blow over my face. Ten years of devotion couldn't move Ethan's heart. Only now did I realize that it was all just my own delusion. Since that was the case, there was no need to keep clinging to a man who wasn't worth a single tear. I was actually curious— When I get rid of this baby everyone is waiting for, and when I disappear from your life completely... Will you actually regret it? Maybe he realized his words were too harsh, or maybe my silence finally made him uneasy. He looked at me in the mirror, his voice softening a bit as he tried to sound caring: "Just bear with it for a bit when we're with Chloe, okay?" "Everything I do—including the fake proposal to Chloe—is for this family. It's for the future of our unborn child." "The board wants a merger through high-society dating. I don't have a choice, so—" I looked up, meeting his eyes in the mirror, and cut him off: "I told you, I don't care." "I don't need your explanation, and I don't want to hear it." When Ethan first confessed his love to me, he wanted the whole world to know. Back then, he had held a cheap silver ring, kneeling in the dirt with absolute devotion, swearing to me: "Vivian, I swear I will only love you in this lifetime. No matter what happens, my heart will never change!" 4 The cheers of our friends had drowned us out. I foolishly believed that that moment would last forever. But the vow was still fresh in my mind, while the man who made it had already rotted. Ethan's patience ran out. He snapped: "Vivian, is this fun for you? Can you stop with the attitude? Nobody wants to look at your miserable face all day!" I ignored him, not letting his words touch me. Chloe pretended to wake up and patted Ethan’s arm to calm him down: "Don't be mad, Ethan. Vivian might just be going through early menopause. Every woman goes through a phase. But you can't get tired of her, okay?" Ethan’s anger melted away. The two of them started chatting and laughing, filling the car with a warm, cozy atmosphere. They looked like a happily married couple. I was just the unwanted third wheel. Too bad their happiness had nothing to do with me anymore. When we reached the hospital, Ethan jumped out of the car. He smoothly walked over to the passenger side, opened the door for Chloe, and shielded her head with his hand so she wouldn't bump it. He did it so naturally, like he had done it a thousand times. Meanwhile, I... Because of the gardenia allergy, my limbs felt like lead. Chloe shot me a smug, challenging look before quickly playing the saint: "Vivian looks really sick. Ethan, go help her. I can walk by myself." Ethan grunted reluctantly and walked over to help me. It was pathetic. Even now, he wanted me to play along in their little drama just to prove how "kind" they were? I felt sick to my stomach. I violently shoved his hand away from my waist. With the last bit of my strength, I screamed at him: "Get lost! Don't touch me!" Ethan’s temper exploded completely. "Vivian, are you insane?" "I'm trying to help you! I'm showing you care, and you push me? You must have water in your brain. I was an idiot to try and help you!" "Never again. Are you happy now?" He grabbed Chloe and stormed off toward the clinic entrance. I stood there, my strength completely drained. Before I could even reach the clinic doors, my vision went black, and I collapsed onto the concrete. Is this the love I traded my piano career for? Is this what ten years of my life bought me? What a joke. Ethan, I regret it. If I could go back, I would never choose you. If I had stayed on my own path, I would be performing on the world's greatest stages right now. But instead, with my ruined finger, I could never play the same way again. When I woke up, Dr. Reynolds was looking down at me, his eyes full of worry. "Vivian, your body is extremely weak from the allergic reaction. Combined with the surgical abortion, your recovery is going to be very difficult." "Under these conditions, do you still want to go through with it?" I thought of the years I had wasted on Ethan. I had thought we were building a future. But in the end, he had thrown me away like garbage for someone else. My broken heart crumbled into dust. "Do it," I whispered. "I don't want to wait anymore."