Ethan’s lips trembled. He looked away,
towards the window. “Yes.” “When?” I
pressed, but he clamped his mouth shut. I lost
interest, focusing on my steak. He watched
—
me my lips, my throat, the way the wine
slid down. I glared. He flinched, biting his lip
hard enough to draw blood. I sighed. “Just
look, okay? No need to be sneaky. We’re
getting married, Mr. Hayes. At least be
upfront about it.” He’d taken all those photos,
hired people to watch me, even bribed our
housekeeper… If he hadn’t died so tragically
last time, I would have filed a restraining
order. But he was sick. I needed to be patient.
I reached for his hand, ignoring his stiffening,
and gently wiped the blood with my napkin.
“Such nice hands. Don’t hurt them, okay?” He
didn’t answer, just stared at me. Finally, he
<
swallowed. “You could… not.” “Run away
again? Or show up, yell at you, and swear I’d
never marry you?” I met his gaze. “I could do
that. But Ethan, what would you do?” The
answer was obvious. He would die. I never
understood how someone so powerful could
be so fragile. But I couldn’t bear the thought
of it happening again.
Ethan was brilliant. Sharp, ambitious, but with
a mysterious past no one could uncover. He’d
ridden the tech wave to dizzying heights,
leaving old–money families in the dust. And
yet, he’d thrown it all away for a woman. Last
time, he became a laughingstock, the poster
boy for “lovesick fools.” I wouldn’t let that
happen again. On the way home, I watched
his impassive face. I decided to talk to his
assistant. I had no idea how to deal with this
man. Or his illness. Was there even a cure?
く
Ethan’s Rolls Royce stopped outside my
house. Liam was there, holding a box of
pastries. Ethan’s eyes narrowed. “Want me to
get out and say hello?” I turned to him.
“Liam’s a good friend. It’s fine.” Ethan leaned
in to unbuckle my seatbelt. “Go on in.” Even
though I’d said it was fine, my chest tightened
with a strange bitterness. I grabbed his wrist. “We’re just friends. Don’t overthink it.” “I’m
not.” “Really?” I saw his knuckles whiten on
the steering wheel. I touched his hand. “Talk
to me, okay? Don’t keep things bottled up.
It’s… unsettling.” I’d used his own words. He
looked away, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I
don’t… like him very much.” “Then don’t
spend time with him.” I patted his head, trying
to be reassuring. “He’s just a friend. You
don’t have to like him.” “And we’ll be married
soon,” I continued. “A much closer
relationship. If you mind me being friends with
<
him… I’ll distance myself.” Ethan looked
surprised. “You’d do that for me?” “Of
course.” I smiled. “We’re going to be
husband and wife!” He stared at me,
dumbfounded. I pressed my advantage,
leaning closer. “See? Talking helps. If you’re
unhappy about something, tell me. Please.
Don’t shut down and hurt yourself while I’m in
the dark. It’s… inefficient.” I realized Ethan
didn’t know how to handle intimacy. He was
applying business tactics to relationships,
forcing a proposal, then becoming paralyzed
with indecision when I actually engaged with
him. He was clueless. “It’s okay,” I thought. “I
can teach him.”
Liam watched me get out of Ethan’s car, his
eyes narrowed. When the car pulled away, he
walked over. “You’re really going through with
this?” “He’s handsome, wealthy, good
L
reputation. Why not?” “But…” He stopped, a
mix of anger, frustration, and something else
swirling in his eyes. “Are you sure you even
like him?” “How many marriages in our circle
are based on love?” I shrugged. “He’s
suitable.” Liam’s eyes widened. “He’ll never
be what we…” “Liam!” I cut him off, my voice
cold. “I’m getting married. Some things are
better left unsaid.” I walked away. Even now, I
didn’t understand Liam’s feelings for me. He
could be incredibly thoughtful, flying across
Europe to find a specific necklace for me.
Then he’d forget my birthday. Last time, I’d
suggested we get married. He’d refused. He wanted to “play the field” for a few more years. Then he met a “sweet, innocent” girl
while we were building snowmen in St.
Petersburg and married her three months
later. His wife hated me. I kept my distance.
Until the end. I wondered if Liam had felt
L
anything when he heard I was gone. After all, I
was the one who sat with him on the roof,
counting stars, the night his dad and
stepmom slapped him for something his little
brother did.
The next day, Ethan was in another meeting. I
watched him through the glass, his brow
furrowed, a hard edge to his usually
impeccable suit. I waited in his office,
chatting with his assistant, who was being
incredibly tight–lipped about Ethan’s issues. I
was losing my patience. “Don’t you think
telling me would be best for him?” “Mr. Hayes
doesn’t want you to know.” He said. “He
wants to appear perfect.” He added
pointedly, “He wants you to rely on him.”
“Rely on him for what?” Ethan walked in,
loosening his tie. He looked tired. “What were
you discussing?” “Whether or not I’d had
<
plastic surgery.” I grinned at him. “Your
assistant says I haven’t. Such a shame. I
could never hope to match Mr. Hayes‘ bone
structure.” He froze. The assistant had
slipped out, closing the door. The silence was
thick. I heard the rustle of his suit. “You like…
how I look?” His voice was husky. “Is that so
surprising?” I raised an eyebrow. “Are you
unaware of your own attractiveness, Mr.
Hayes?” His ears turned pink. He looked
away. “Speaking of which,” I said, walking
towards him, “calling you Mr. Hayes feels a
little formal, don’t you think?” I touched his
hair. He wasn’t using hair gel anymore, and it
