Chapter 190 He Took the Knife
Ethan didn't say another word. He just turned and walked back to the Maybach, yanking open the rear door and sliding inside.
Harry glanced at Justin in the driver's seat, then climbed into the passenger side.
Justin started the engine and pulled out of the hospital parking lot, following the taillights ahead.
Justin had watched this shit unfold for eight goddamn years.
He'd been there at the beginning—back when Ethan didn't even realize what he was feeling. When "possession" was just business strategy, just another asset to acquire and control.
Now? Now it was too late. The obsession had metastasized into something darker. Something that bent Ethan's spine—that proud, unyielding backbone everyone feared. Eight years of wanting what he couldn't have. Three years of keeping her. Five years of losing his fucking mind without her.
Justin's hands tightened on the wheel.
Ethan Bennett had everything. Money, power, a body that could take a bullet and keep moving. But love? That was the one thing the universe decided to withhold. Probably punishment for all the other gifts.
The Bennetts didn't do love. His grandfather gave respect to Ethan's mother—cold, transactional respect. His father saved passion for mistresses, affection for bastard sons. Ethan got the family name and nothing else. No warmth. No tenderness.
Just expectations.
Growing up in that frozen mansion had carved something out of Ethan's chest. Left him starving for something pure, something his. Unconditional. Unshared. The kind of love that didn't come with price tags or political alliances.
That's why he'd lost his shit over Olivia.
She was supposed to be easy. Poor, grateful, desperate. Someone who'd love him for saving her, who'd never leave because she had nowhere else to go.
Except Olivia Reed didn't love him. Didn't even like him, probably. And that made Ethan insane.
The more she pulled away, the harder he grabbed. Obsession became compulsion became full-blown mania. Justin had watched his boss transform from controlled to unhinged, all because one woman refused to play along.
He's gonna destroy himself, Justin thought, eyes flicking to the rearview mirror. Ethan sat motionless in the back seat, face shadowed, jaw tight.
---
Olivia leaned her head against the car window, watching the city slide past in streaks of orange and gold.
God, she was tired.
"You doing okay?" Sophie asked from the driver's seat.
"Yeah. Just exhausted."
Sophie nodded, lighting up a cigarette with one hand.
"You should quit," Olivia said quietly.
Sophie took a long drag, lips curving into a smirk. "What, you afraid I'll die on you?"
"Life and death are up to fate," Olivia murmured. "Nothing to be afraid of."
The car slowed as they approached her building.
Olivia didn't move to get out. Just sat there, waiting.
"So what's the plan?" Sophie asked. "You gonna go back to him?"
"No."
"What if he actually tries this time?" She turned to face Olivia, expression serious. "Like, really tries. Flowers, apologies, the whole nine yards. What if Ethan Bennett gets down on his knees and begs?"
Olivia laughed. Couldn't help it. "He won't. That's not who he is. Ethan doesn't beg. He takes. He manipulates. He fucking conquers."
"But if he did—"
"I wouldn't go back." Olivia's voice came out flat, certain. "I made my choice five years ago. I'm not changing my mind."
Sophie studied her for a long moment. Then she sighed. "There's something I need to tell you. Frank's planning to move the company to L.A."
"Justin made an offer—a really good offer. The kind you can't refuse." Sophie grimaced.
"Well," Olivia said carefully, "that's a company decision. I'm just an employee. I don't get a vote."
"But would you go?" Sophie's eyes searched hers. "If the company moves, would you come with us?"
Olivia opened her mouth to answer, but Sophie waved her off. "Never mind. Don't answer that. You look exhausted. Go home, get some sleep. We'll talk tomorrow."
Olivia nodded, climbing out of the car.
---
Olivia picked Jack up from Helen's place. The second he saw her, his face lit up like the sun breaking through clouds.
"Mommy!" He launched himself at her legs, arms wrapping tight around her thighs. "I missed you so much."
Her heart melted. She scooped him up, pressing kisses to his cheeks until he giggled. "I missed you too, baby. Did you have fun today?"
"Uh-huh! We made volcano experiments and Ms. Alice let me be the assistant!"
"That's wonderful." She took his hand, leading him toward the elevator. "Tell me everything."
He chattered the whole way up—stories about science experiments, playground games, the new superhero toy his friend brought to show-and-tell. Things had been better at school since Ms. Anna got fired.
Jackson had asked if Olivia wanted to transfer Jack to a different school. She'd refused. Jack wasn't the problem. Why should he be the one to leave?
Two weeks later, the bully's family quietly moved their son to another school.
---
That day had been a long shoot. The production company was filming on location in Central Park, and as costume designer, Olivia had to be there—making sure every piece looked right on camera, adjusting collars and hemlines between takes.
Frank rode with her in the company van, reviewing schedules on his tablet. "So Sophie mentioned the move," he said. "You two talk about it?"
"She told me last night."
"And?" He glanced up. "What do you think?"
"Frank, you know I have Jack." Olivia's voice was gentle but firm. "I can't just uproot him and move across the country."
"I could help with that—schools, housing, everything." Frank leaned forward. "This is Bennett Enterprises we're talking about. The opportunities—"
"I appreciate it," she interrupted. "But I really want to stay in New York."
Frank studied her face for a moment, then nodded slowly.
The shoot ran until after dark. By the time they wrapped, Olivia's feet ached and her eyes burned with exhaustion.
She was heading toward the grocery store near their building—just needed to grab some fruit for tomorrow's lunches—when she heard her name.
"Olivia."
She froze.
Blake stood under a streetlamp, hands shoved in his pockets. He'd dressed down tonight—white button-up untucked over black slacks, tie hanging loose around his neck. The top buttons were undone, showing a slice of tanned chest. His suit jacket was draped over one arm.
He looked like something out of a magazine. Rumpled and gorgeous and dangerous.
Olivia turned to walk away.
That's when someone rushed out of the shadows.
Metal flashed in the streetlight. A knife. Heading straight for her chest.
"Liv, watch out!" Blake's shout cut through the night.
But someone was faster.
Ethan appeared out of nowhere—bursting from the fruit stand on the corner, arms outstretched. He crashed into Olivia, spinning them both, his body curling around hers like a shield.
The sound was quiet. Almost gentle.
Shhlick.
The blade sinking into flesh.
"Ethan!" Olivia screamed, hands clutching his shirt. Her vision blurred with panic. "Oh my god, Ethan, are you—"