Ethan returned to the city with a weight pressing on his chest. The testimony he had heard still rang in his ears, sharper than the jet's landing gear scraping the runway. His private jet had barely touched down when he texted Isabela. He didn't want a boardroom welcome or smiling corporate faces. He needed her. He needed to see her safe.
Isabela was still at Vivienne Couture, adjusting the hem of a gown when his message lit up her screen. Her heart skipped. After days of wondering where he was, worrying what he was hiding, relief rushed through her. She didn't even bother to explain; she set down her tools, grabbed her bag, and hurried out of the store.
By the time Ethan stepped out of the private elevator into his penthouse foyer, she was already there waiting. The moment their eyes met, the distance of the past weeks crumbled. She didn't hesitate, she ran to him, her heels clicking on marble, and threw her arms around him.
Ethan dropped the briefcase he carried, the metallic clang echoing across the foyer. He held her close, so close he almost forgot they weren't alone. His hands tightened at her back, the scent of her hair pulling him down from his rage into something softer. For a moment, the world stilled.
God, I almost lost myself without her. How can someone feel like home so quickly? Ethan thought as he buried his face against her.
Isabela's chest rose and fell against his. Her own thoughts tumbled. He feels different. Tired. Wounded in a way he won't say. But he came back to me… he chose to see me first. What does that mean?
The spell broke with the swing of a door. Mrs. Petrov, Pev to everyone in the house, walked in with a tray, and Tom strolled behind her, his smirk already forming.
Dinner was so awkward. The four of them sat at the long table, eating quietly, every scrape of cutlery too loud. Ethan's jaw worked steadily as he sliced his steak. His silence was as heavy as the chandelier above.
Finally, Tom spoke, swirling his wine lazily. "Well, look at this. The prodigal brother returns. Did you close a deal, or just collect more hotel bills? You look worn out, Ethan. Maybe all this 'man of the people' thing is catching up with you."
Ethan's head lifted, his voice calm but edged with steel. "I closed the deal, Tom. And I found time for something more important. Tell me, how was your stay? I trust Isabela made sure you had everything your pampered taste requires?"
Isabela shot Ethan a warning glance beneath the table, silently begging him not to escalate. Pev's eyes flicked between them, unreadable as always. She had been in this house since Ethan was eighteen, gifted along with the apartment by his father. Over the years, she had been steady, loyal. But there was always a shadow, her being related to Ethan's ex-girlfriend. That tie made Ethan's chest tighten now.
Dinner dragged on, filled with half-truths, polite poison, and silence.
Later that night, Ethan sat in his study, the city lights blurring outside. He pulled out a sheet of paper and began sketching a list, names that haunted him.
The Suspects
Tom (Half-brother): Jealousy clung to Tom like a second skin. Same mother, different fathers. Ethan had inherited his father's empire, lifting him into billionaire status. Tom had done well too, but it was never enough. He wanted Ethan's shadow gone. Ethan's late wife had despised Tom, calling him trouble with a charming face. And now, doubts pointed directly at him.
Pev (Housekeeper, Ex's Relative): She had been loyal for years, yet too close to the wrong circles, family ties to Ethan's ex. She had keys, schedules, access. She saw everything. If anyone could leak his life piece by piece, it was her.
Isabela: Ethan refused to put her name down. She was new, untouched by his old life. She brought him peace without asking for anything. If anything, she was in danger, not the cause of it.
He stared at the page. Tom's name glared back at him. Pev's lingered like a question mark.
The enemy is inside these walls. I have to protect her. I can't lose someone else. Not her.
In her own room, Isabela sat on the edge of her bed, her hands still tingling from Ethan's embrace. She thought of the way he had held her, as if she was the only anchor he had left.
He looks at me like I matter more than he wants to admit. But there's a storm in his eyes, secrets I don't know yet. I should be careful. Still, I can't deny it, I want to be near him, even if it means standing in the fire.
The city hummed outside, unaware that within the glass walls of Ethan's penthouse, trust and suspicion were already at war.