Chapter 5 - Ethan’s Return
The next morning, the city of Chicago felt miles away as Ethan stepped out of the arrivals terminal at JFK airport, looking exhausted from a grueling week of corporate meetings. He wore a rumpled grey suit, carrying his leather briefcase in one hand and a small gift box for me in the other.
When he pushed through the glass doors of our apartment building and found me sitting quietly in the living room with my hair tied back in a pathetic, lopsided half-ponytail to hide the jagged cut, he stopped dead in his tracks.
"Olivia?" Ethan dropped his briefcase, his face draining of color as he rushed across the room. "Honey, what happened to your hair? Why didn't you stay at the estate like Mom said? She called me an hour ago saying you packed your bags in the middle of the night and left in a rage—"
He reached out to touch my shoulder, but I stood up smoothly, stepping out of his reach. The silence in the room stretched heavy and suffocating.
"Ethan," I interrupted, my voice devoid of the warmth he was accustomed to. "Before you repeat a single word your mother told you, you are going to sit down on that couch, look at this tablet screen, and listen to the truth."
May you like
Ethan blinked, taken aback by the ice in my voice and the unfamiliar hardness in my eyes. "Olivia, what are you talking about? Mom was just worried because you—"
"Watch the video, Ethan," I said, sliding the digital tablet across the coffee table and pressing play.
