Chapter 5 Ethan

Lena had only been in the penthouse two days, and already, she'd found the cracks.

She asked questions no one else dared to. Sat with her notebook and simply watched, without fear or flattery. It was infuriating.

And yet... he found himself listening when she spoke. Lingering longer in rooms where she was. Wondering if she could see the version of him even he no longer recognized.

That night, she followed him into his private study, a room no one entered.

"Do you want to talk about her?" she asked gently.

He froze.

"Your mother," Lena clarified. "The file said she died when you were fourteen. It's not in any interviews."

"Because it's none of their business," he snapped.

Lena didn't flinch. "It's part of your story."

Ethan turned away, pacing toward the fireplace. "You want a tragic origin story? Fine. My mother overdosed in the back room of a restaurant while I sat outside with cold fries and a fake smile. There. Add that to your draft."

Lena's voice was barely a whisper. "You blame her."

"No." His jaw tightened. "I blame the world that chewed her up. I just swore I'd never let it do the same to me."

Lena stepped closer. "And so you built walls instead of a life."

He looked at her then, eyes hard but behind the armor, pain.

"And you," he said quietly, "you're the first person to walk through them in years."

They stood in silence, heavy with words unsaid. And for the first time in a very long time... Ethan wasn't sure he wanted to be alone.