Chapter 181 Do You Hope So?
Jackson pulled out a cigarette and lit it, taking a deep drag.
He exhaled slowly, his eyes fixed on some point beyond the window. "You know, Liv—you've been with Ethan for over three years. You must understand how our circle works by now."
"Everyone out here plays the same game." He tapped ash into the small dish I'd reluctantly provided. "We're all looking for the same things—physical satisfaction, mental stimulation. Maybe some good conversation over expensive wine. But love?" He laughed, short and bitter. "That's just a fairy tale people tell themselves to feel less empty."
My throat tightened. "Jackson—"
"It's true." He turned to face me, smoke still trailing from his lips. "That's why what Ethan's doing is so fucking weird. Most guys in his position? They'd have moved on years ago. Found someone new. Someone more... suitable. But not him. Three years later, and he's still obsessed with you."
I stared at my hands, folded in my lap.
"Sometimes I wonder if you put some kind of spell on him," Jackson continued, his voice taking on an almost amused quality. "A man of his stature, his power, his resources—and he's fighting with his own nephew over a woman."
"If he's going to fight for you, fine. But at least treat you right after."
He took another drag. "He can't love you, but he won't let you go. Just drags you through hell, half-dead and miserable. Forget being a gentleman—it's despicable."
He paused, expression shifting. "But later I realized... he probably really is crazy in lo—"
I saw him then.
Ethan.
Standing in the doorway, shoulders filling the frame, his face carved from stone.
"Yeah," I blurted out, cutting Jackson off. "You're absolutely right, Mr. Hayes. You're the real gentleman here."
Jackson lifted his chin. "Well, naturally. Unlike some people, I actually have standards when it comes to treating women. I don't force them into anything."
"Exactly!" I nodded vigorously. "You're so sophisticated, Mr. Hayes. You have such... what's the word? Class. Real class. The classiest man in all of Los Angeles!"
Jackson's mouth curved into a smug smile. "I appreciate that, Olivia. It's refreshing to be—"
A shadow fell over Jackson. He froze, cigarette halfway to his lips, then slowly—reluctantly—turned his head. "Ethan. When did you—"
A cold smile curved Ethan's lips, his voice dropping to ice. "So tell me, Jackson—since I'm such a despicable bastard—should I break your left hand first? Or your right leg?"
"It's late," I said quickly. "Jackson was just leaving. Weren't you, Jackson?"
Jackson nodded so fast I thought his head might fall off. "Yes. Absolutely. I should—I have an early meeting tomorrow, so—"
He practically fled.
The door clicked shut behind him, and suddenly the apartment felt much smaller. Much more suffocating.
Ethan turned to face me fully, and I instinctively took a step back.
"He came to talk about Jack. About the custody arrangement and—"
"At ten PM."
"He works during the day!"
"So do I." Ethan moved closer, and I held my ground even though every instinct screamed at me to run. "But you don't see me showing up unannounced at night, do you?"
"You live next door," I shot back. "You don't need to show up unannounced. You're always here."
His jaw tightened. "Is that a problem?"
"Why are you here, Ethan?" I asked instead, my voice tired. "Did you come to yell at me? To threaten Jackson? To remind me that I'm still—" I cut myself off, biting down hard on my lower lip.
"Still what?" His voice went soft again. Dangerous.
I shook my head, wrapping my arms around myself. "Nothing. Forget it."
"Olivia."
"I'm tired," I said to the floor. "It's been a long day. Jack got hurt at school, Jackson showed up, and now you're here, and I just—I just want to go to sleep. Please."
Silence stretched between us, heavy and suffocating.
Finally, he sighed. "Lock the door after I leave."
I looked up, surprised. "What?"
"The door." He gestured toward the entrance. "Make sure it's locked. Both locks, not just the handle." He moved toward the exit, then paused with his hand on the doorknob. "And Olivia?"
"Yeah?"
His eyes met mine. "If you need anything—anything at all—call me. My number hasn't changed."
Even if it hasn't changed, I don't remember it anymore. I'd deleted his number years ago, erased it from my phone and my memory.
---
The next morning, I left twenty minutes early, hoping to avoid him.
No such luck.
"Good morning, Mr. Bennett!" Jack chirped, tilting his little face up with a bright smile.
Ethan crouched down, reaching out to touch Jack's soft cheek. "Good morning, Jack."
I glanced at Ethan despite myself. His hair was slicked back, perfectly styled. He wore a gray pinstripe suit with a white dress shirt underneath.
Ethan slipped both hands into his pockets and angled himself slightly, showing off his best profile.
I scoffed, turning my face away.
Ethan said nothing.
But Jack gasped. "Wow! Mr. Bennett, you're so handsome! I wish you were my daddy!"
I pulled Jack into my arms. "Your daddy is the most handsome man in the world. No one is more handsome than him."
Jack blinked. "But that uncle who looks like me—he's not as handsome as Mr. Bennett."
I cupped Jack's face in both hands. "But in Mommy's eyes, your daddy is the most handsome. Why else would I have liked him?"
Jack nodded earnestly. "Mommy's right!"
I could practically hear Ethan grinding his teeth behind me.
---
After dropping Jack off at school, I drove to the office. Ethan followed in his car the entire way, like some kind of unofficial security detail.
This time, he didn't just follow me to the building—he pulled into the parking garage right beside me.
I got out of my car. He got out of his.
When it became clear he intended to follow me into the elevator, I stopped and turned around.
"Mr. Bennett—are you here to see Frank? Or is there something else?"
The elevator doors opened. Ethan reached out, holding them. "Miss Reed, have you forgotten? We currently have a project collaboration. Frank assigned you to liaise with me on it."
My lips curved into a tight smile. "Of course. Mr. Bennett, please—after you."
We rode up together. Thankfully, I'd come in early. The office was still empty.
When we reached my office door, I stopped again and turned to face him.
"The flowers I've been receiving every day—" I kept my voice level. "Were those from you?"
Ethan didn't answer directly. Instead, he raised one eyebrow, a faint smile playing at his lips. "Do you want them to be from me?"