Chapter 165 He's Changed Too
Five years. It felt like a lifetime and no time at all.
I took a deep breath and pushed open the car door. The evening air hit my face as I walked around to the passenger side.
"Mr. Bennett," I said, keeping my voice flat. "We've arrived at your designated location."
I held out the car keys, arm extended, careful to maintain distance.
He didn't move.
Ethan sat in the passenger seat with his back pressed against the leather, hands resting loosely on his thighs. His eyes were closed, eyelids heavy, as if the weight of the day had finally caught up with him.
A flash of neon swept across his face, illuminating the sharp planes of his cheekbones, the hard line of his jaw.
That's when I saw it.
Gray hair at his temples. Fine lines at the corners of his eyes.
My breath caught.
He was still broad-shouldered, still intimidating. But something had changed. Something inside him looked... worn down.
Time hadn't been kind to him either.
The thought came unbidden, followed immediately by a sharp ache in my chest.
I hated that I still cared.
Don't, I told myself sharply. Don't do this. Don't soften. Don't remember.
We weren't those people anymore. We weren't anything to each other. Not friends. Not lovers. Not even enemies.
Just strangers who used to wreck each other.
I dropped the keys into his lap. They landed with a soft clink against his thigh.
"Goodnight, Mr. Bennett," I said quietly.
Then I turned and walked away.
---
I didn't look back.
I just kept walking.
The same way I'd left five years ago.
My heels clicked against the pavement in a steady rhythm, the sound echoing off the buildings around me. The street was relatively quiet—just the distant hum of traffic and the occasional burst of laughter from a nearby restaurant.
I made it two blocks before I had to stop.
My legs felt like jelly. My chest was tight, my breathing shallow and uneven. I reached out blindly and grabbed hold of a bus stop sign, leaning against it as I tried to pull myself together.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out with trembling fingers.
Sophie: Did you drop him off okay?
I stared at the text for a long moment, then typed back:
Me: Yeah. Just finished. On my way back to the hotel.
Sophie: I'm not rushing you. I just wrapped up with Mr. Crawford too.
Me: Okay.
The three dots appeared immediately.
Sophie: Hey, guess what Mr. Crawford asked me earlier?
My heart skipped a beat. Then another.
Me: What.
Sophie: He asked if I knew anything about you and Ethan Bennett.
Me: Long story. I'll explain when I get back.
I shoved the phone back in my pocket before she could ask any more questions.
Sophie and I went way back—high school classmates who'd drifted apart after graduation. I'd been focused on getting into UCLA on a scholarship, and she'd gone to community college before transferring to a state school.
We'd run into each other by chance the day before I left for Europe. A random encounter at LAX when I was checking in for my one-way flight to Amsterdam. She'd been picking someone up, saw me standing there with my single suitcase, and we'd exchanged numbers.
We'd kept in touch sporadically over the years. Brief messages on holidays.
---
By the time I reached the hotel, exhaustion hit hard. I made it through the lobby and up to my room.
Sophie was waiting on my bed, sitting cross-legged.
She looked up the moment I entered, her eyes wide with barely contained curiosity.
"Okay," she said immediately. "Spill. What the hell is going on? You and Ethan Bennett?"
I dropped my bag on the desk and kicked off my heels. "It's complicated."
"Were you dating him?" Sophie asked quietly.
"Yeah." My voice came out flat. Emotionless. "For about three years."
"Three years?" Sophie's voice pitched higher. "How did I not know this? We ran into each other right before you left for Amsterdam, and you didn't say a word!"
"Because by then, we were done."
"Okay." She reached over and squeezed my hand. "But for the record? Dating Ethan Bennett—even if it ended badly—that's kind of legendary. Do you know how many people would kill for that experience?"
I let out a bitter laugh. "Trust me. It's not worth it."
Sophie tilted her head, studying me. "How did you guys even meet? I mean, he's... him. And you were just a college student."
"There was an event at UCLA," I said. "Some kind of donor thing. Ethan was one of the guests. I was assigned to be his student liaison for the day." I shrugged. "We talked. He asked me out. And somehow, Ethan and I were..."
"Together," Sophie finished for me.
"Yeah."
She was quiet for a moment, then grinned.
"Ethan made headlines last year when OceanRise went public." She turned her phone toward me. "The company he founded—like, six years ago? It just IPO'd on NASDAQ. Frank was talking about it at work. Apparently, OceanRise supplies a ton of the materials we use for aerospace and defense contracts."
I stared at the screen.
There was a photo of Ethan at the NASDAQ opening bell ceremony. He was wearing a perfectly tailored navy suit, his hair slicked back, a Patek Philippe watch glinting on his wrist. He looked exactly like what he was: a man who commanded empires.
Even in a crowd of billionaire CEOs, he stood out. Taller. Sharper. More dangerous.
"The photo leaked online," Sophie continued. "And I swear to God, it broke the internet. Twitter crashed. TikTok went insane. Every woman on the planet suddenly wanted to know who Ethan Bennett was."
She swiped to another photo. "But then, like half an hour later, the whole thing disappeared. Every post. Every article. Gone. It was like someone scrubbed the internet clean."
Of course he had. Ethan hated public attention. Always had.
"Luckily, I screenshot it before it vanished." Sophie zoomed in on his face. "I mean, look at him. How is one man allowed to be that hot and that rich and that powerful?"
I looked away. "He's not a god, Sophie."
"Maybe not," she said, grinning. "But he's pretty damn close." She put her phone down and turned to me, her expression softening. "Frank also mentioned that Ethan comes from serious money. Like, military-political dynasty money. His grandfather was a general. His dad's some kind of government advisor."
"Yeah." I stood up abruptly. "I need to take a shower."
Sophie blinked. "Okay. Sure."
I grabbed my toiletry bag and headed toward the bathroom.
But I'd barely pulled off my blazer when I heard my phone ringing in the other room.
"Liv!" Sophie called. "Your phone!"
I yanked the door open and rushed back into the room. My phone was on the bed, screen lit up.
UNKNOWN
"Hello?"
Silence.
Then:
"Olivia."
His voice was rough. Low. Achingly familiar.
"The oak tree we planted is two stories tall now. Do you want to come see it?"