Rafael ended the call with a quiet sigh, sliding his phone into the breast pocket of his blazer. His shoulders tensed, not from anything Mara had said, but from the sound of footsteps behind him. He didn't have to look to know who it was.
Ethan stood just a few steps away, hands in the pockets of his tailored coat. His eyes were sharp, unreadable.
"You were talking to my wife," Ethan said calmly, his voice low but steady.
Rafael turned slightly, expression unimpressed. "Your ex-wife, dude. Let's not rewrite history."
Ethan took a slow breath, eyes narrowing. "She called you this late. Not me. Not the father of her two children."
Rafael tilted his head. "And whose fault is that, exactly?"
"I don't know. Maybe the man who's trying to be the hero to a woman he barely knows."
Rafael gave a short laugh. "You're still playing the wrong part in this story, Ethan. She doesn't care about you. Not now. Not the way you want."
