Chapter 3 3

Justina Andrews's POV

---

The day felt thick with a suffocating weight, as if the city itself was holding its breath in anticipation. The morning sunlight filtered weakly through the skyscrapers, casting long shadows on the streets below. But inside Oliver's penthouse, the atmosphere was anything but light.

Oliver and I sat opposite each other in the sleek leather chairs of his office, the folder with Lena Carter's latest report resting between us. I traced my finger along the edge of the papers without really reading, my mind swirling with the consequences of what we were about to do.

We were going to confront Ethan.

My pulse quickened at the thought. I had seen Ethan before- at family dinners and business events. He was charismatic, commanding, the kind of man whose smile could disarm and whose gaze could freeze you in place. But now, knowing he had been the architect of so much destruction, I saw him in a harsher light. Ruthless. Cold. Dangerous.

"Are you sure about this?" I asked quietly, breaking the heavy silence.

Oliver's jaw clenched, his usually composed expression taut with emotion. "I don't have a choice. If I don't face him, he'll keep sabotaging everything I've built-and everyone I care about."

I nodded, understanding that this fight wasn't just about business anymore. It was about family. About blood.

---

The meeting was set for late afternoon, in a discreet conference room at one of Oliver's lesser-known properties- a place shielded from prying eyes and ears. We arrived just before the hour, greeted by the familiar buzz of tension that seemed to cling to every corner of our lives these days.

Oliver's hand found mine as we stepped inside, a silent reassurance.

The door opened and Ethan stepped in. Tall, impeccably dressed, his sharp eyes locking onto us immediately. The same eyes that had haunted my dreams for weeks, now burning with a mixture of anger and cold calculation.

"Oliver," Ethan greeted smoothly, a hint of a smirk playing at his lips. "And you must be Justina. I've heard so much about you."

I returned the smile, though it didn't reach my eyes. "I'm sure not all of it was good."

Oliver's voice cut through the room like steel. "Enough games, Ethan. We know what you've been doing."

Ethan chuckled softly, a sound devoid of warmth. "And what exactly do you think I've been doing?"

I stepped forward, feeling the weight of Emma's safety and our future resting on my words. "Sabotaging Oliver's company. Destroying his reputation. Threatening me and Emma. All to take control of what rightfully belongs to you."

His eyes flickered with something unreadable-guilt, regret, or maybe just amusement. "Rightfully belongs to me? You think this empire was built for you?"

Oliver's expression hardened. "It was built for the family. But family doesn't mean tearing each other down."

Ethan's smirk faded, replaced by a cold, hard stare. "Family is survival. And I intend to survive."

---

The room crackled with unspoken history, years of resentment and rivalry hanging between us like a storm ready to break.

I couldn't help but wonder what had driven Ethan to this point. Was it jealousy? Fear? Or something darker?

"Why?" I asked softly, surprising even myself. "Why would you do all this? For what?"

Ethan's gaze shifted, and for a moment, I saw a flicker of vulnerability. "Because I was always the shadow. Always second to Oliver. Never good enough. This empire-this family-it was never mine."

Oliver's voice was low but firm. "You're my brother, Ethan. Not my enemy."

Ethan laughed bitterly. "That's where you're wrong."

---

The tension was a tightrope stretched thin, and I felt myself teetering on the edge.

"I'm tired of secrets," I said, stepping closer. "Of lies. We deserve better than this."

Ethan's eyes locked onto mine, sharp and calculating. "Do you really think you can change anything? You're playing a dangerous game, Justina."

"I'm not playing," I replied, my voice steady. "I'm fighting."

---

Suddenly, the conference room door burst open. Lena Carter, the private investigator, entered hurriedly, holding a tablet.

"We have a situation," she announced, urgency in her tone.

Oliver and Ethan both turned toward her.

Lena tapped on the screen, revealing live footage of armed men approaching one of Oliver's key warehouses. "They're here. They're going after the shipments."

Oliver cursed under his breath. "Ethan, is this your doing?"

Ethan shook his head, eyes narrowed. "Not mine. Someone else."

I looked between the two men, the fragile truce shattered in an instant.

"We need to stop this," I said, determination fueling my words. "Together."

Oliver nodded. "Agreed."

Ethan hesitated, then stepped forward. "Fine. But once this is over, we settle this. For good."

---

The warehouse was a stark, industrial place on the edge of the city. The sun was dipping below the horizon, casting an orange glow over the concrete and steel.

Oliver, Ethan, Lena, and I arrived in a convoy of black SUVs, the tension in the car almost unbearable.

Inside, the situation was worse than we'd imagined. Men in masks and tactical gear were unloading crates filled with illegal goods-evidence of the larger scheme to destabilize Oliver's business.

Lena whispered into her earpiece, coordinating with local authorities. "They're here, but we need to buy time."

Oliver gestured toward Ethan. "You and I handle the men. Justina, you stay back with Lena and coordinate with the cops."

I shook my head. "No. I'm not staying out of this."

He looked at me, surprise flashing in his eyes. "It's too dangerous."

I smiled grimly. "So is everything we've been through."

---

The next hour was a blur of adrenaline, shouting, and flashing lights. Oliver and Ethan fought side by side, their grudges momentarily set aside as they took down the attackers.

I stayed close to Lena, helping to manage communications and relay information to the arriving officers.

When the last man was cuffed and hauled into a police van, I felt a surge of relief wash over me.

Oliver approached, bruised but victorious. Ethan followed, his expression unreadable.

"We did it," Oliver said, exhaling deeply.

Ethan nodded. "For now."

---

Back at the penthouse, the adrenaline faded, leaving exhaustion and silence in its wake.

Oliver poured us all glasses of whiskey, the sharp burn matching the lingering tension.

"To family," he said, raising his glass.

I hesitated, then lifted mine. "To survival."

Ethan's eyes met mine, and for a brief moment, I saw the man beneath the façade- a brother, a son, a broken soul.

Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for something better.

---

As I lay in bed that night, Emma sleeping peacefully beside me, I realized that our fight was far from over. Because even in the darkest shadows, blood ties could sometimes be the strongest bonds.

---

The quiet after the storm settled in the penthouse like a thick fog. I sat on the edge of the sofa, the weight of everything pressing down on me. Emma was asleep upstairs, her soft breathing the only sound breaking the silence, and yet, inside me, the storm was far from over.

Oliver had excused himself to make some calls- damage control, I guessed- and Ethan was pacing near the window, his silhouette rigid and distant against the city's glowing skyline.

I couldn't shake the image of Ethan's eyes from earlier- the cold mask slipping just for a moment, revealing something raw, something broken.

I watched him. For years, I had only known him as Oliver's rival, a shadow in the family business. But today, I glimpsed the man behind the mask. And it terrified me.

I cleared my throat. "Ethan."

He turned, a flicker of surprise crossing his face, quickly replaced by guarded calm.

"We need to talk," I said.

He raised an eyebrow but didn't move away. "Fine. Talk."

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart. "Why all this? Why destroy everything Oliver built?"

Ethan's jaw tightened. "Because I was always left out. Always second choice. You think I wanted to be this guy? The villain? The brother everyone fears?"

I softened. "I don't think you wanted to hurt anyone. But you didn't stop to think what your actions would do to Emma. To Oliver. To me."

He looked away. "Maybe I was too blinded by my own pain to see it."

There was a long pause between us. The vulnerability was almost painful to witness.

"I'm sorry," he finally said quietly. "Not just to Oliver. To you, too. You didn't deserve any of this."

His words hit me like a wave-unexpected, confusing. Could I believe him? Should I?

Before I could respond, Oliver returned, his phone still in hand but his face softer, somehow more human than the usual ironclad CEO.

"Everything's under control for now," he said, setting the phone down.

I looked between the two brothers, the history and heartbreak written all over their faces.

"We need a plan," I said, standing. "This attack won't be the last. Whoever's behind this knows we're vulnerable."

Oliver nodded. "I'm calling a full board meeting tomorrow. We'll expose the traitors inside."

Ethan sighed. "And I'm done playing games. If you'll have me, I'm with you."

Oliver glanced at me, and I could see the flicker of mistrust. But for now, we had bigger battles to fight.

Later that night, alone in my room, I sat by the window, staring out at the city lights. The events of the day played over and over in my mind.

Could I trust Ethan? Was Oliver ready to forgive his own brother?

And where did I fit in this fractured family?

A soft knock on the door broke my reverie.

"Justina?"

Oliver's voice was low, cautious.

"Come in," I said.

He entered, closing the door quietly behind him. He looked tired- more vulnerable than I'd seen in months.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

I shrugged, unsure how to answer. "I'm scared."

He sat beside me. "Me too. But we're not alone anymore."

I turned to him, searching for certainty.

"Oliver, what if this tears us apart?"

He reached for my hand. "Then we fight harder. For Emma. For us."

The next day's board meeting was intense. Faces I'd only seen in photos now stared at me with suspicion or curiosity. As Oliver laid out the evidence of sabotage, I watched Ethan's expression darken with every accusation.

When the meeting ended, several board members whispered among themselves, casting sideways glances.

Oliver caught my eye, squeezing my hand. "We'll get through this."

But as we walked back to the car, Ethan pulled me aside.

"Justina, there's something you need to know-something Oliver doesn't want you to hear."

My heart pounded. "What?"

Ethan glanced around before lowering his voice. "There's more at play here than just family rivalry. People in Oliver's circle want him out. They're using me... and you."

I felt a chill. "Who?"

Ethan hesitated. "I'm still finding out. But you need to be careful. Especially with those closest to you."

That night, after putting Emma to bed, I sat at the kitchen island scrolling through messages and emails. One message stood out-an anonymous tip warning me to trust no one in Oliver's company.

My phone buzzed.

It was a text from an unknown number: "Meet me at the old pier. Midnight. Alone."

My mind raced. Was this a trap? A threat? Or a chance to uncover the truth?

I debated calling Oliver or Ethan but decided to go alone. I needed answers- and I couldn't risk putting them or Emma in danger.

A woman stepped from the shadows. A woman, mid-thirties, sharp eyes, confident stance.

"You're Justina Andrews?" she asked.

I nodded cautiously.

"I'm Marissa. I used to work for Oliver. I'm the one sending you those messages."

"Why?" I asked, voice barely a whisper.

"Because Oliver's in deeper trouble than you know. There's a mole in his inner circle-someone high up. They're feeding Ethan's brother information and manipulating the whole family."

"Who?" I pressed.

Marissa's face hardened. "I can't say. Not yet. But you're the only one who can stop it."

I left the pier with more questions than answers, but one thing was clear: the danger was closer than I'd thought, and trust was a luxury I couldn't afford.

Back in my room, I stared at Emma sleeping peacefully. I'd promised her a safe life, away from all this chaos.

But how could I protect her when the enemy wore the faces of family?

The next morning, I found Oliver waiting for me in the kitchen, concern etched into his features.

"Where were you last night?" he demanded.

I hesitated, then told him everything.

His jaw clenched. "You should have told me."

"I didn't want to drag you into it. Not yet."

He sighed. "We need to act fast. If there's a traitor, they'll strike again."

I nodded, steeling myself.