Chapter 188 When They Both Showed Up
Without Ethan's constant interruptions, Olivia threw herself into work with renewed focus. The designs came together smoothly. Within days, she had the complete collection ready, each piece embodying the romance and elegance Ethan had demanded.
She sent him a message through LinkedIn: [Mr. Bennett, the garments are complete. I'll have them shipped to your office for review.]
His response came within seconds: [Excellent work!]
Two words. Like she was a child who'd earned a gold star.
Olivia closed the chat without replying.
---
Late afternoon, Frank Miller burst into the design room. "Alright, everyone! We're celebrating tonight. Dinner's on me. The Steakhouse on Fifth. You've all earned it."
Olivia grabbed her coat, assuming it would be just the team—easy, casual, safe.
She was wrong.
The restaurant was all dark wood and leather. Frank led them toward a private room in the back. When they stepped inside, Olivia's breath caught.
Jackson Hayes, Jonathan Bennett, and Alexander Fuller sat waiting on a leather sectional. Three of them. Dressed sharp. Watching the door.
Frank stumbled through introductions, his voice too eager. The three men barely glanced at him.
Until Olivia stepped into view.
Then they all stood.
---
Jonathan crossed the room first, hands in his pockets. "It's been a while, Liv. How've you been?"
She forced a smile. "Fine. You?"
"Can't complain." His grin widened. "Though Ethan's been a mess lately. Like he lost his soul or something. Whole damn—"
"Mr. Bennett!" Frank's voice cut through, loud and reverent.
Everyone turned.
Ethan stepped into the room in a tailored black suit, one hand in his pocket, his presence filling the space like a cold front. Harry and Justin flanked him, their faces blank.
His dark eyes swept the room once—past Frank, past Jackson, past everyone—
Until they locked on Olivia.
And then someone called her name.
"Olivia."
She spun toward the other entrance.
Blake Bennett stood there, hands in his pockets, that lazy smile spreading across his face. He walked toward her like he had all the time in the world.
The room held its breath.
Jackson and Alexander exchanged glances. Jonathan's grin turned sharp.
Blake was in front of her.
Ethan was behind her.
The two of them. In the same room. At the same time.
It was the airport all over again. Three years ago. Blake drugging her, dragging her away. Ethan intercepting the plane, ripping her out of Blake's grip. The two of them fighting over her like she was a goddamn trophy.
That moment had become her nightmare. The one she couldn't escape.
And now it was happening again.
Her ears started ringing. A sharp, stabbing pain shot through her temples. She lifted her hand instinctively, pressing her palm against her ear.
But before she could even process the pain—
Everything went black.
Her knees buckled. Her body tipped backward.
Jackson lunged forward, catching her just before she hit the floor. His hands braced her back, holding her upright.
And then Ethan was there.
He moved faster than anyone had ever seen him move—crossing the room in three strides, ripping Olivia out of Jackson's arms and pulling her against his chest.
"Harry. Get the car."
---
Harry drove. Justin rode shotgun.
Ethan sat in the back, cradling Olivia against his chest like she might shatter if he let go. Her head rested against his shoulder, her breathing shallow and uneven.
Five years.
It had been five years since he'd held her like this.
The last time was her college graduation. The day she'd stepped in front of that knife. The day his white shirt had turned red with her blood, his hands slick and shaking as he'd carried her to the car.
That day, Harry had driven too.
Now, sitting in the same seat, holding her the same way, the memory slammed into him with brutal clarity.
"Faster," he snapped, his voice low and sharp. "Drive faster."
Harry's knuckles went white on the steering wheel. The Maybach surged forward.
Ethan tightened his grip on Olivia, pressing her face into his chest. He bowed his head and kissed the top of her hair, his lips lingering there.
Please. Please be okay.
---
Olivia woke to white.
White walls. White ceiling. White sheets.
She blinked, disoriented, her head pounding. It took her a moment to realize where she was.
A hospital.
She sat up slowly, wincing at the dull ache behind her eyes. The room was small, private, expensive. An IV drip hung beside the bed, though the line wasn't attached to her.
The door opened, and Sophie stepped inside. "Hey. You're awake. How are you feeling?"
Olivia rubbed her temples. "Like shit. What happened?"
"You passed out. Scared the hell out of everyone." Sophie sat on the edge of the bed, her expression tight with worry. "The doctor said you have... what was it? Post-traumatic something?"
"PTSD." Olivia's voice was flat. "Post-traumatic stress disorder."
"Right. That." Sophie frowned.
---
Down the hall, Ethan stood in the doctor's office, his arms crossed over his chest. His face was expressionless, but his jaw was tight, his shoulders rigid.
The doctor—a middle-aged man with graying hair and kind eyes—sat behind his desk, flipping through Olivia's chart. "Post-traumatic stress disorder," he said. "Also known as PTSD. Miss Reed's symptoms suggest she's been living with this for at least six or seven years."
Ethan's throat tightened. "Six or seven years."
"Yes." The doctor glanced up. "She's also exhibited signs of past depression, though it appears to be in remission now."
Ethan said nothing. His hands curled into fists at his sides.
The doctor continued, his tone gentle but firm. "PTSD typically develops after experiencing or witnessing a traumatic event. Symptoms include flashbacks, intrusive memories, heightened anxiety, and physical reactions to reminders of the trauma. Over time, if left untreated, it can lead to severe emotional distress."
Ethan's chest felt like it was caving in.
Six or seven years.
That meant it started when she was with him.
He caused this.
---
When Ethan stepped out of the office, Harry and Justin were waiting in the hallway. They both straightened when they saw him.
Justin opened his mouth to speak, but stopped when he saw Ethan's face.
Ethan's back, usually so straight, so unyielding, was bent. His shoulders hunched forward like he was carrying something too heavy to bear.
Harry stepped forward. "Boss?"
Ethan raised one hand, silencing him. He didn't say a word. Just walked past them, his footsteps slow and heavy.
Justin and Harry exchanged glances. Neither of them followed.
---
Ethan stopped outside Olivia's hospital room. His hand hovered over the door handle.
Inside, he could hear Olivia's voice.
"Five years ago, I lost a baby."
Ethan's hand froze.
Sophie's voice was softer now, careful. "Was it... did you want to lose it? Or was it an accident?"