Chapter 192 Letting Go
"Huh? No flowers today?" Amy's voice cut through the morning quiet.
Olivia kept sorting fabric swatches, not looking up. "There won't be any more."
"Ah? He stopped chasing you?"
Olivia smiled faintly and headed to the break room without answering.
---
Two weeks passed. Olivia threw herself into work, staying late, coming in early. Anything to keep busy.
She didn't see Ethan once. Not even a glimpse of that black Maybach.
But Blake appeared everywhere in her apartment complex. Running laps in the mornings. Shooting hoops in the evenings. Always there.
"Morning," he'd say, jogging past.
"Morning," she'd reply, and keep walking.
---
Another afternoon. Olivia stepped out of her building after work, Jack's hand tucked in hers. The October air had turned crisp. Jack tugged toward the playground, his backpack bouncing.
"Had dinner yet?"
Blake's voice came from behind them.
Olivia turned. He stood near the community center, holding something in his hand. A toy gun—plastic, with LED lights that blinked red and blue. He pointed it at the sky, making quiet "pew pew" sounds under his breath.
"We ate," Olivia said flatly.
Jack's eyes went wide. He stopped walking, staring at the toy gun like Blake was holding the most amazing thing he'd ever seen. His small mouth fell open.
Blake noticed. That easy, charming grin spread across his face. He walked over and held out the gun. "Want it, buddy?"
Jack's whole face lit up. His chubby fingers reached out.
Olivia opened her mouth to refuse, but Jack already had his hands wrapped around the plastic barrel.
Shit.
She pulled out her phone. "How much?"
Blake raised an eyebrow. A smirk played at his lips as he pulled out his own phone. He held up the screen—a QR code for adding friends.
Olivia stared at it. "Just show me your payment code."
He shrugged, still smirking. "I only accept friend transfers."
Olivia's jaw clenched. This manipulative bullshit—it was exactly like Ethan.
She scanned the code with sharp, angry movements. Added him as a contact. Then asked again, her voice flat, "How much?"
"One thirty-four."
"One thirty-four for a toy gun," she said evenly. "Too expensive. I can't afford it."
Blake's grin widened. "How about a discount then? Thirteen point four."
Olivia transferred the money without another word. She grabbed Jack's hand and turned to leave.
Blake's voice followed them, light and amused. "See you around, Liv."
She didn't look back.
That evening, Blake posted a screenshot of the $13.40 transfer to Instagram. Caption: First day of dating. Love you, babe. ❤️
He blocked Olivia from seeing it, then tossed his phone on the couch, grinning.
---
Los Angeles. Horizon Club.
Jonathan Bennett sat at a card table near the fireplace, dealing another hand. Across from him, Jackson Hayes shuffled poker chips between his fingers. Felix Thorne leaned back in his chair, barely paying attention to his cards.
Alexander Fuller had stepped away to use the bathroom.
Jackson picked up his phone, idly scrolling through social media while waiting for the next hand. His thumb flicked up the screen once. Twice.
Then he stopped. His face went still.
"Fuck."
Jonathan glanced up from the cards. "What?"
Jackson didn't answer right away. He just stared at his phone screen, his jaw working.
Felix leaned forward. "What's wrong?"
Jackson turned the phone around slowly, showing them the screen.
Blake's Instagram post.
Felix squinted at it. "Is that—"
"Blake and Olivia," Jackson said. His voice had gone tight. Sharp. "Blake and Olivia are together."
Jonathan snatched the phone out of Jackson's hand. Stared at the screen. His mouth pressed into a hard line. "That little shit."
Alexander walked back into the room, still drying his hands on a bar towel. He took one look at their faces and stopped mid-step. "What happened?"
Jackson exhaled roughly. "Blake just posted—he and Olivia—"
"Show him," Jonathan said, shoving the phone toward Alexander.
Alexander took it. Read the post. His face darkened. "Oh, fuck no."
The room went silent. Tense.
Then Alexander looked up sharply. "Where's Ethan?"
Felix nodded toward the entrance. "He just walked in."
They all turned.
The doorway seemed to darken. A chill swept through the room.
Ethan Bennett stood there, still in his suit from whatever meeting he'd just come from. His jacket hung open. His tie was loose around his neck. His face was blank.
His eyes were dead.
Jackson stood up fast, still gripping his phone. His voice came out nervous. "Ethan, I—"
"I saw it."
Ethan's voice was flat. Toneless. He walked past them without stopping, pulled out a chair at the card table, and sat down.
Jackson stayed standing, staring at him. "You... you saw it?"
Ethan pulled a cigarette from his pocket. Lit it with steady hands. Took a long drag.
Nobody moved.
This wasn't right. This wasn't how Ethan Bennett reacted to things. He was supposed to explode. Flip the table. Put someone through a wall. Rage and violence and destruction—that was the Ethan they all knew.
Not this. Not this cold, empty silence.
Jackson swallowed hard. Took a cautious step closer. "Are you—"
"Sit down." Ethan tapped ash into the crystal tray. "You're blocking my light."
Jackson sat. Slowly. Like he was approaching a wild animal that might bolt—or strike.
Alexander cleared his throat. "Ethan, man, if you need to talk about—"
"I'm fine."
"Maybe we should call it a night. Get you home. Get some rest—" Jackson suggested.
"I'm leaving," Ethan said.
Alexander stood up fast. "You want company? We can grab drinks. Talk. Whatever you—"
"No."
At the threshold, he stopped. Didn't turn around.
"That bar you gave her," he said quietly. "Now yours again, Alexander."
The bar Alexander had once given to Olivia as compensation—after she left Ethan, he'd naturally taken control of it.
"Nobody touches her," he continued. "Not your friends. Not your business partners. Not anyone in the family."
"Of course."
Ethan left.
Jonathan rubbed his face. "Fuck."
Alexander signaled for another round. "I need a real drink."
Jonathan signed. "You remember eight years ago? When Grandpa Aiden was dying?"
"Grandpa held on, waiting to talk to Ethan. Told him to break up with Olivia. Said she wasn't good enough. Said if Ethan didn't end it, he'd die disappointed." Jonathan took a long drink. "Ethan refused."
"After that, the whole family turned on him. Everyone blamed him. Said if he'd just done what he was told, Grandpa could've died in peace."
"He's stubborn as hell. Wouldn't bend." Jonathan stared into his glass. "Then five years ago, Olivia got hurt. Took a knife meant for him. Nearly died. Lost his baby."
"If that hadn't happened," Jonathan said softly, "he'd probably still..."
Alexander leaned back. "So why'd he chase her again this autumn? And now suddenly let go?"
Jonathan shook his head slowly. "No one can figure out what goes on in his head. Maybe he realized he didn't love her as much as he thought—so he gave up halfway. Or maybe he loves her too much—so he chose to let go."