Chapter 166 Did You Miss Me?
Author's POV:
For a moment, Olivia froze.
The voice on the other end of the line pulled her back to a time she'd spent five years trying to forget. A time when Ethan Bennett could be gentle. Tender, even.
It didn't happen often. But it happened.
Most of the time, Ethan was controlling, possessive, with the kind of presence that could fill a room—or crush the air out of it. He'd wanted her close. Too close. Like a pet he could keep in a gilded cage.
Her senior year at UCLA, she'd lost every shred of freedom she had left.
It took half her life—literally—to finally break free.
And now he wanted to act like they could just… talk?
"No thanks," Olivia said, keeping her voice cool. Professional. "But I appreciate the thought, Mr. Bennett. Have a good night."
There was a pause. Then a low, dark laugh that sent a chill down her spine.
"Olivia Reed," he said, drawing out her full name like he was tasting it. "These past five years… have you ever—"
Have you ever thought about me?
Even for a second.
She didn't let him finish.
She hung up.
---
Ethan stared at the screen of his phone, the call ended notification glowing in the dim light of his car.
His mouth twitched. Once. Twice.
Then he laughed—a bitter, self-mocking sound that echoed in the silence.
What the hell was he expecting?
He leaned his head back against the seat, closing his eyes.
But the memories came anyway.
Her voice, soft and breathy, calling him "Ethan" in that way that used to undo him. The way she'd looked at him in the dark, her body pressed against his, eyes hazy with need. The way she'd thrown herself in front of that knife without a second thought.
The blood.
God, the blood.
It had poured through his fingers, hot and sticky, trailing behind them all the way to the ER. He'd stood outside the operating room doors, numb and shaking, feeling like his soul had been ripped out of his chest and left on that blood-soaked pavement.
When the doctor told him about the miscarriage, it felt like someone had taken a blade and carved out the softest part of him.
He'd gone into her hospital room rehearsing what to say. How to tell her. How to comfort her.
And she'd looked at him with those empty eyes and said:
"Half a life. For a lifetime of freedom."
So that was it, wasn't it?
The knife. The baby. All of it—just to get away from him.
She hadn't loved him. Not even a little.
Ethan had spent that night sitting outside the hospital on a bench, staring at nothing.
The next morning, he'd given her what she wanted.
Freedom.
He told himself he'd move on. Find someone else. Forget her.
But he couldn't.
His throat tightened. His hand gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles went white.
I can't forget you.
I can't fucking forget.
---
After the contract was finalized, Olivia booked a flight back to New York that same afternoon.
She told Frank and Sophie she needed to get back to Jack—that he was still little and needed her. They didn't push. Frank just nodded and told her to take care.
---
Ethan's Maybach idled outside the hotel where Olivia's team had been staying.
The window rolled down. Vincent Crawford's face appeared, smiling.
"Looking for someone, Mr. Crawford?" Frank asked, leaning slightly against the car.
Vincent's expression didn't change. "Ms. Reed."
"I'm afraid you just missed her."
Frank stood beside Vincent, looking awkward.
"She left?" Vincent's voice was flat.
"About half an hour ago," Frank said carefully. "She… said she needed to get back to her son."
"Her son?"
"Yeah." Frank shifted uncomfortably. "Kid's four or five, I think. Still in preschool."
Vincent tilted his head, studying Ethan with the kind of clinical curiosity reserved for lab specimens. "Does the boy look like her?"
Frank frowned, considering. "Not really. Maybe takes after his dad."
Vincent coughed lightly, his gaze flicking toward the backseat of the Maybach.
Ethan sat perfectly still, eyes closed, face expressionless.
Vincent straightened. "Well, Mr. Bennett, she just left, we could still—"
---
When Olivia got into the taxi, her hands trembled slightly.
She kept glancing at the side mirror, stomach tight with anxiety. Would Ethan send someone to stop her? Would security block her at the airport?
But as the taxi merged onto the highway, she forced herself to think clearly.
Five years.
Five years since she'd left Los Angeles. Five years since he'd let her go.
And in all that time, Ethan had kept his word. He hadn't called. Hadn't shown up. Hadn't interfered.
So why would he start now?
By the time she reached LAX, her breathing had steadied. She checked in smoothly, passed through security without issue, and made her way to the gate.
---
Olivia didn't expect to see Blake Bennett at the airport.
But there he was—standing near the baggage claim, looking older, sharper, more self-assured than the reckless boy she'd once known.
Their eyes met.
For a second, neither of them moved.
Then she nodded. Just once. A polite acknowledgment.
That was all they had left.
But Blake didn't let her walk away.
He crossed the terminal in long strides, stopping directly in front of her.
"Hey," he said. His voice was different now. Deeper. Calmer.
"Hey," she replied.
"It's been a long time."
"Yeah. It has."
He smiled—just a little. "How've you been?"
"Good. You?"
"Can't complain." He paused, then gestured vaguely toward the exit. "Got my own company now. It's doing pretty well. And I've got—"
He stopped mid-sentence.
His gaze shifted past her.
Blake's expression changed.
Before she could react, he reached out and brushed a strand of hair away from her face.
"You had a spider in your hair."
He held up his fingers, as if showing her proof.
"It's gone now," he added with a grin. "Just a little spider. Nothing to be scared of."
She swallowed. "Thanks."
"No problem."
Olivia adjusted the handle of her suitcase and started walking.
Blake fell into step beside her.
"Where are you headed?" he asked casually.
"Catching a flight."
---
Ethan stood near the entrance, watching.
Vincent was beside him, but Ethan's focus was locked on the scene unfolding across the terminal.
Blake's hand. Olivia's hair. The easy familiarity between them.
His chest tightened.
His fingers twitched.
Was it Blake? The boy she'd have a child with.