Chapter 3

The next morning, there was a sharp knock on his hotel room door. Ethan opened it to find Olivia, looking surprisingly fresh despite the previous night's drinking. She pushed past him into the room, her expression a calculated mix of contrition and affection. "Ethan, baby, we need to talk," she said, her voice soft and low. She tried to take his hand, but he pulled it away. "I was drunk last night. I said things I didn't mean. Mark is just... he's a comfort. But you and I, we're the real deal.

We built that place together." She walked around the suite, running her hand over the expensive furniture. "This is nice," she murmured. "We could have this. With the restaurant's success and your... connections. We could be unstoppable."

Ethan just stared at her, marveling at her ability to pivot, to manipulate. "There is no 'we', Olivia," he said, his voice cold. Her face hardened instantly. The soft, pleading look vanished. "Don't be a fool, Ethan. You're throwing away everything because your ego is bruised. You need me. You need the restaurant." The argument escalated, their voices rising until she followed him out of the room and into the hotel lobby. "You're just jealous of Mark's talent!" she shouted, causing heads to turn.

As he turned to face her, she made a wild gesture of frustration and "accidentally" slammed her hand into the canvas bag he was carrying. The bag fell, and his custom-made chef's knives, a gift from his grandfather, spilled across the polished marble floor with a sickening clatter. It was a desecration.

That was it. The final, unforgivable insult. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. It was a formal resignation letter he had written last night after calling the lawyer. He didn't hand it to her. He dropped it at her feet, right next to the scattered knives. "I'm done, Olivia," he said, his voice devoid of all emotion. "The restaurant is all yours." As if on cue, Mark appeared at Olivia's side, his arm wrapping around her protectively.

"What's going on here?" he asked, his eyes darting to Ethan. He took a step forward, then suddenly stumbled, lurching towards Ethan. It was a clumsy, obvious piece of acting, but he committed to it, letting out a grunt as his shoulder brushed against Ethan's chest. "He pushed me!" Mark yelled, staggering back dramatically. "He attacked me! Security!"

Olivia didn't hesitate for a second. She pointed a shaking finger at Ethan, her face a mask of outrage. "I saw it! He just assaulted you, Mark! Ethan, you've lost your mind!" She pulled out her phone. "I'm calling the police. You'll have an assault charge on your record. You'll see what happens when you cross us." The sheer, venomous fiction of it all left Ethan speechless. He was about to respond, to call their bluff, when Olivia's phone began to ring, a shrill, insistent sound that cut through the tension.

She looked at the screen, her expression shifting from anger to confusion. "It's Maria, the restaurant manager," she muttered. She answered, putting the phone to her ear. Her face went pale. "What? Now? Both of them?" Her voice was a panicked whisper. "Don't let them in! Stall them!" She hung up, her eyes wide with fear. "It's the health department," she said, her voice barely audible. "And a man from our main food supplier. He says they're terminating our account, effective immediately."