Chapter 121 Like Father, Like Son?
I felt my throat go dry as Ethan's question hung in the air between us.
Any answer felt like stepping into a minefield. I opened my mouth, then closed it again, searching desperately for words that wouldn't trigger his anger.
Just as the silence became unbearable, Ethan's phone rang.
"What?" he barked into the phone, his back to me as he moved a few steps away.
"Can't even keep track of one person. What the hell are you good for?" His voice carried that signature boss-tone that made employees tremble.
"There are no boats off the island. Where the fuck could he go? Keep looking!"
A pause, then another voice—Harry's, I realized—saying something I couldn't quite catch.
Ethan replied, "Get back soon. We're headed to Bangkok at the end of the month."
Another pause.
"Fine." Ethan's jaw tightened. "And his mother came to the office looking for me today? Ignore her. If she makes another scene, have security remove her."
Harry asked something else that made Ethan's eyes narrow dangerously.
"Bring him back to be your fucking patron saint?" Ethan's voice dripped with sarcasm. When Harry fell silent, Ethan continued coldly, "Watch him. He doesn't leave that island for a year. Understood?"
"Yes," came Harry's simple reply before the call ended.
I could tell Blake's escape had put Ethan in a foul mood. His face had darkened considerably, jaw clenched tight enough to crack walnuts.
Before he could return to our conversation, his phone rang again. Checking the screen, his expression hardened further. He answered with undisguised coldness.
"What is it?"
I could hear the faint sound of an equally stern voice on the other end—Richard Bennett, Ethan's father.
"Ava showed up at the house demanding Blake's return. She's accusing you of kidnapping him," Richard said, his voice tight with barely controlled anger.
Ethan let out a cold laugh. "And what standing does she have to demand anything?"
"Just tell me if Blake is with you," Richard snapped, his patience clearly wearing thin.
"I sent him to Santa Catalina Island for training," Ethan replied evenly.
Richard's voice suddenly rose, filling the space between us. "That godforsaken island is where you train your security personnel! What the hell are you doing sending him there?"
"Cultivating a more worthy grandson for you, obviously." Ethan's smile was razor-sharp. "Or would you prefer him to follow in Nathan's footsteps and become another useless trust fund brat?"
Richard's tone softened slightly. "Whatever your issues with him, he's still your nephew. Scold him, hit him if you must, but don't actually harm him."
"Aren't you worried about him harming me?" Ethan countered, his voice laced with bitter amusement.
"He couldn't hurt you if he tried," Richard scoffed. "Even if Nathan were still alive, the two of them together couldn't touch you."
Ethan's laugh was hollow and cold. I watched his face, seeing something flicker behind his eyes—some old pain or memory—before it was quickly buried beneath his usual mask of indifference.
"You can fight and argue all you want," Richard continued, "but you're family. Uncle and nephew. Don't—"
"Relax," Ethan cut him off coldly. "Your eldest son's bloodline is safe. I won't let the family line die out."
A brief silence followed, and I could almost feel Richard regrouping before changing tactics. "Speaking of bloodlines, Ethan, you're turning thirty soon."
"Are you going to suggest I marry a socially appropriate woman?" Ethan's voice took on a dangerous edge. "If I remember correctly, you hated when Grandmother forced you to marry a suitable socialite."
He laughed again, the sound brittle and cold. "Hypocritical, don't you think? 'Do unto others' is apparently a concept beyond your grasp."
Richard sighed heavily. "It's precisely because I've walked the path you're on that I'm trying to advise you."
"Your grandfather, your mother, your older sister, your aunt—even your uncle. Nobody in the family approves of Olivia."
My chest tightened at hearing my name.
"Ethan, your situation mirrors mine when I married Blake's grandmother," Richard continued, his voice softening with memory. "The family despised her. I had to take her away, establish our life elsewhere."
I watched Ethan's face grow increasingly closed off as his father spoke.
"But I couldn't cut ties with my parents completely. They were my flesh and blood. I had to return home, bring the children to see them. Holidays were manageable—I could visit with just the kids. But what about New Year? I couldn't leave her alone while I celebrated with family."
Richard's voice grew heavier. "Your grandmother didn't like her. Neither did your aunt or great-aunt. No one in the Bennett family except me had any use for her."
"Out of respect for me, they didn't actively mistreat her. But they ignored her. Treated her like she was invisible, like a stranger. Wouldn't speak a single word to her."
I felt a chill run down my spine. Was this my future? Being the outsider, the unwanted addition to the Bennett family?
"I eventually requested a transfer back, thinking proximity might help. I hoped if she brought Nathan to visit your grandparents regularly, your grandmother would eventually warm to her. The human heart isn't made of stone, after all."
Richard paused. "But things only got worse after we returned. Your grandmother was—is—a formidable woman. Controlling. Everything in the house ran according to her rules. Even your grandfather deferred to her, let alone us children."
"She raised me for over twenty years. Marrying against her wishes was my one act of rebellion, my only time standing against her."
"After we came back, your grandmother frequently had Nathan brought to the family estate. When she tried to visit, she couldn't even get through the gate."
"Unable to fight your grandmother, she took it out on me. I was in my career's ascension, busy with work, caught between them. Eventually, I stopped trying."
"We divorced, and later I married your mother—the illustrious Miss Montgomery, freshly returned from studying abroad—exactly as your grandmother wished."
When he finished, silence fell heavily between them.
Ethan hadn't spoken a word, but he hadn't hung up either.
Richard sighed again. "She was eighteen when we got together, just like Olivia. I was like you—young, hot-blooded, swearing to give her happiness, willing to fight the world to be with her."
"But Ethan," his voice grew earnest, "a man's life consists of more than romance. You'll understand when you're past thirty. Affairs of the heart occupy only a small portion of a man's existence."
"Why do you think it's the calculating politician who builds alliances that sits in the Oval Office, not the most valiant, principled general from the battlefield?"
"Think carefully. Is what you feel for her just temporary excitement, or would you still choose her if the world turned upside down?"