Chapter 76 A Good Time
Ethan's thirty-third birthday was the talk of the town. Ever since his grandfather, Max Sinclair, had taken control of his upbringing, Ethan's birthdays had been treated as monumental occasions. Max never spared any expense, turning them into spectacles that only the high and powerful could attend.
An invitation wasn't merely a courtesy, it was a declaration that you belonged among Ethan's inner circle of friends, family, and business elites. These gatherings weren't just birthdays; they were opportunities for the influential to mingle, strike deals, and be seen in the right company.
Each year, the venues grew more extravagant, lavish government mansions, historic estates, and sometimes even destinations outside the country. To be invited was to have status; to be excluded was to be forgotten.
People in the business world did all they could, pulled strings, called in favors, even leaned on old debts, just for the chance to secure an invitation. More often than not, it was impossible. Ethan's guest list was always thoroughly screened, and this year, the restrictions were even tighter.
For the first time, his birthday would not be hosted in a government mansion or an extravagant estate overseas, but within the walls of his private residence. The decision puzzled many. To some, it felt symbolic, an unspoken message that the era of spectacle was shifting toward something more personal, more exclusive. To others, it carried an air of mystery. Why now, after years of public grandeur, had Ethan chosen to draw the world into his most guarded space?
The uncertainty only sharpened the appetite for an invitation. The city's elite scrambled, But as always, only a chosen few would pass through those gates, and the rest would be left to speculate from the outside.
Lena sat in her room, grateful for the stillness. The muffled hum of voices downstairs was distant now, leaving her alone with her thoughts. She leaned back against the chair, letting out a slow breath.
Ethan's birthday loomed in her mind. To everyone else it was an honor, an event people schemed to be part of. To her, it felt like stepping into a world where she didn't quite belong. The memory of sharp words left in comment sections lingered, strangers questioning her place beside him, wondering how long she would last.
She traced the edge of the blanket with her fingertips, quiet, thoughtful. No one would understand how heavy it felt to be seen through those eyes, to know that tonight, those same judgments might be waiting behind polite smiles.
Lena reached for her phone, more out of habit than curiosity, but the moment her screen lit up, she froze. Every blog, every headline seemed to scream the same thing, Ethan Sinclair's birthday. It felt as though the entire world had gone into a frenzy over it.
Clips from his past celebrations flooded her feed: dazzling venues glittering with lights, crowds of influential faces, champagne towers that stretched like monuments. They didn't look like birthdays at all, they looked like festivals, grand productions staged for the elite.
And now, in two days, it would all happen again. The announcement had come so suddenly that even the blogs were in disbelief. Some speculated the late notice was intentional, a way to keep the guest list tight and untouchable. Others whispered that Ethan himself had been reluctant to celebrate this year.
But what unsettled Lena most wasn't the spectacle, it was the realization that Ethan hadn't said a word to her about it. He hadn't carried her along, hadn't prepared her, hadn't even mentioned that the world was already spinning in anticipation. He simply moved through his life as if she were not part of it.
The realization that she hadn't even been considered significant enough to be told about the birthday stung. It hurt more than she expected, the sharpness of it catching her off guard. For a moment, she allowed herself to sit with that ache, then, almost sternly, she reminded herself what this was. A contract marriage. Nothing more. It wasn't her place to expect inclusion in his private world.
She set her phone aside and drifted toward the window. Outside, several moving vans had pulled up to the house, their headlights cutting across the driveway. From her vantage point upstairs, they looked like ants in motion, swarming with purpose as men unloaded crates, boxes, and tall structures she couldn't yet make out. They were everywhere, up and down the steps, through the side entrance, vanishing inside with arms full, only to reappear moments later for more.
The quiet of her room felt suddenly thinner, almost invaded by the restless energy spilling into the house below.
Just then, her phone buzzed. A message from Ethan.
Pack lightly. A driver will be there for you shortly.
Lena stared at the words for a moment. It felt almost like a relief, an excuse to leave the house and the restless chaos unfolding downstairs. She slipped her phone aside and began packing a few things, careful not to overthink what the message meant.
She was reaching for her phone again, intending to call Ethan, when a soft knock came at the door. Opening it, she found Mena waiting, her usual calm smile in place.
"Mrs. Sinclair," Mena greeted softly. "If you're ready, I'll escort you to the car."
Lena nodded, picked up her small bag, and followed. But instead of leading her through the main hall, Mena turned down a narrow passage Lena had never noticed before. The hidden corridor wound discreetly through the house before opening to the outside.
There, three sleek cars waited, engines humming. The sight of the small convoy caught Lena off guard. Security men, faces she now recognized as Ethan's personal team, stepped forward to greet her, their movements crisp and respectful. For a brief moment, she felt... important. Protected. As if she truly was someone of consequence.
One of the men opened the door to the middle car, and another helped her in with a quiet efficiency that left little room for hesitation. A moment later, the door shut, the convoy shifted into motion, and the Sinclair home was slipping away behind her.
For a minute she simply sat there, hands resting on the small bag in her lap, listening to the muted rumble of the engines outside. The door had barely closed and already the car felt different, more deliberate, more formal, than any ride she'd ever taken.
Through the tinted glass, she caught glimpses of the other vehicles flanking her. It was strange. A few hours ago she had felt invisible, scrolling through endless comments that dismissed her as nothing beside Ethan. And yet here, surrounded by his men and treated with quiet precision, she couldn't deny the shift. Important. Protected. Almost like she mattered.
The feeling startled her. She wasn't sure if she should embrace it or push it away. After all, she reminded herself, this wasn't real, it was a contract, a role to play. But even knowing that, she couldn't quite shake the flicker of pride at how the world seemed to move for Ethan Sinclair... and by extension, for her.