Chapter 142 Was He Going to Tell Me?
I ask questions, then instantly regret them.
I kept reminding myself not to ask too many questions about the Bennett family. But sometimes, even when I didn't ask, I'd end up learning things anyway.
Like now, with Blake rambling on like a drunk man, voluntarily telling me things I wasn't sure I wanted to know. Ethan had never mentioned his family to me—he was too guarded, too careful with his words.
"You asked how old my great-grandmother is," Blake smiled. "My great-grandfather is eighty-eight now. My great-grandmother is two or three years younger than him. Twenty-one years ago, she was in her sixties."
I remained silent, thinking his great-grandmother's tactics and capabilities rivaled those of Eleanor Roosevelt.
Reading my thoughts, Blake smiled. "My great-grandmother is the quintessential 'political dynasty princess.' Her father was once the mayor of San Diego. That riverside central park area? That used to be her family's private estate. Her grandfather was a U.S. Senator—his word carried weight in Washington."
A chill ran through me that had nothing to do with the snow beneath us. No wonder she objected to Ethan's father marrying a maid. Anyone with that kind of legacy would.
"My dad didn't have my grandfather's backbone," Blake continued. "He was just a college student then, couldn't even say 'no.' He just let my great-grandmother send my mother away."
"I was brought back to the Bennett house right after my one-month checkup. Like my uncle, taken from the nursery straight to the family estate."
He turned toward me, his profile sharp against the darkness.
"Actually, my uncle Ethan basically raised me."
I couldn't hide my surprise. It was hard to imagine cold, ruthless Ethan raising a child—especially when he was just a child himself.
"I was born on May 20th. When they brought me to the Bennett house, Uncle Ethan was on summer break. He was eight years old." Blake's voice softened. "I basically grew up alongside him. He raised me more than my own father did. And Ethan was precocious—at eight, he already had the mental capacity of a teenager. He was more of a father to me than my actual dad."
"My father had zero paternal instinct. And my mother? I didn't see her until I was eleven."
"My grandfather was climbing the career ladder back then, rarely home. My great-grandfather had retired, but even though he loved me, he didn't actually raise me. Only Uncle Ethan took on the role of guardian, managing my education and daily life."
"During my childhood, the only male figure who provided care and protection was Uncle Ethan."
"I attended military family schools for kindergarten and elementary. My classmates were all children of generals or military leaders." Blake's expression hardened. "If we were comparing, I was actually the 'cheapest'—my mother had me out of wedlock. In that environment, I had the worst origin story in class."
"In second grade, some boys from high-ranking military families called me a 'bastard' to my face. They said my mother was a secret mistress. I started fighting them right there, but I couldn't win. They beat me until my face was swollen and my nose was bleeding."
"When I got home, I lied and said I'd fallen."
"It happened to be a Friday, and Uncle Ethan had come home from school. After dinner, he called me to his study and forced the truth out of me."
"The next day, he took me to school, called in the principal and my teacher, then brought in the students who beat me along with their parents. He made them apologize in front of the school officials."
"At first, those students refused, claiming I'd hit them first."
"Uncle Ethan said, 'Fine, no apology. We'll go through legal channels.' I remember clearly—he handed each boy's parent a document and told them to read it before deciding whether to apologize."
"After one glance, they immediately made their children apologize to me, then beat their own kids."
I couldn't help but ask, "How old was Ethan then?"
"Fifteen. I was seven, and he was eight years older."
I nodded slowly. "At fifteen, Ethan definitely had that kind of authority."
Blake laughed. "Honestly, it's only around you that he acts like some superhero with his powers sealed away. Before he met you, when was he ever so restrained?"
My legs were going numb from sitting on the cold ground. I gripped the iron bars to pull myself up.
"Alright, you should head back. I need to go in too." I brushed the dirt from my clothes.
Blake stood up as well. "Liv, Uncle Ethan is getting engaged after New Year's. I came to tell you this tonight because I was afraid he'd keep it from you and let you unwittingly become—"
He didn't finish the sentence. The word "mistress" hung unspoken between us, too ugly to voice.
I forced a calm smile. "Okay. I understand."
Blake continued, "My uncle's mother might not be as cunning as my great-grandmother, but she's formidable. As long as she's alive, she'll never allow you and my uncle to be together."
He laughed bitterly.
"Me, on the other hand—no father, no mother, a grandmother who isn't blood-related, and a grandfather who has his own skeletons. No one will interfere with my marriage."
"As for my great-grandfather, I'm his great-grandson. He doesn't care who I marry, and besides, he's nearly ninety. He might not outlast me."
I gave him a sad smile. "What's the point of saying all this now? Ethan and I are already like this. Is there any way back? Time can't be reversed. I can't turn back now."
After talking with Blake for over half an hour, I was shivering from the cold. Back in my room, I rushed to the bathroom for a hot shower, then changed into soft pajamas and slid under the covers.
I'd barely settled in when Ethan returned.
I sat up, surprised. "You're back?"
It was just past midnight.
Ethan still wore his overcoat, bringing in the scent of snow and winter wind.
"Why aren't you asleep?" He approached the bed, gently touching my cheek with the back of his hand.
I smiled. "If I were asleep, how would I know you'd returned?"
Ethan pulled the covers up around me, then lifted me, blanket and all, into his arms. He rested his chin on my neck, pressing his cheek against mine.
"Merry Christmas, love." He retrieved a small gift bag from his coat pocket and placed it beside me. "I just want you safe and happy this life, that's my only wish."
I reached out from beneath the blanket, my arm wrapping around his neck. I turned to kiss his cold cheek. "Merry Christmas, and I hope you stay healthy and everything goes your way."
"Liv," Ethan called my name softly.
"Hmm?" I responded. "What is it?"
Ethan hesitated, then stroked my hair. "Nothing. I'm going to shower. Wait for me."
He turned toward the bathroom.
I watched his tall, straight back as he walked away, rigid and distant as steel. My heart sank.
Was he going to tell me about the engagement?