Chapter 40 Meet the Mother
I froze in the doorway, my heart hammering against my ribs.
As I stood there, a memory surfaced. Not long after I'd moved into Oakwood Estate, I'd overheard Ethan on the phone one afternoon. His tone had been clipped, controlled. "I'm busy. No, not today." A pause. "Fine. I'll come out." He'd left without explanation, returning hours later with his jaw tense and shoulders rigid. I hadn't asked, and he hadn't volunteered any information.
During those two months I'd lived at Oakwood, I'd never met his parents. Sometimes, alone in that massive house, I'd imagined awkward scenarios of unexpected family appearances—what I might say, how I'd handle their inevitable judgment. But I'd never imagined meeting his mother like this, ambushed in my own territory.
"Ms. Reed," my department chair said, breaking the silence. "Mrs. Bennett has requested a meeting with you. She's one of our university's most generous benefactors."
Mrs. Bennett stood, extending a perfectly manicured hand. "Please, call me Ashley," she said, her voice warm but commanding. "Would you mind taking a walk with me? It's such a lovely day."
I nodded mutely, my throat suddenly dry. "Of course."
Outside, we strolled down Oak Tree Boulevard, the wide path that cut through the heart of campus. Students parted around us like water around a stone, some doing double-takes at the elegant woman beside me. Ashley Bennett had the kind of presence that demanded notice.
"How old are you, Olivia?" she asked after a moment of silence.
"Eighteen," I answered simply.
Ashley made a soft sound—something between a laugh and a sigh. "That damn son of mine. Please allow me to apologize on his behalf."
I stared at her, stunned. I'd expected warnings, perhaps threats about knowing my place or staying away from her son. Not an apology.
"I... I'm not sure what you mean," I stammered.
She smiled, the expression softening her regal features. "Ethan has always been..." she paused, searching for the right word, "willful. Even as a child, he refused to follow the expected path. At sixteen, when his father had arranged interviews at every Ivy League school, Ethan announced he was attending West Point instead."
We passed the library, students lounging on the grass enjoying the warm afternoon sun.
"He could have joined an elite unit on the East Coast," she continued, "close to family connections. Instead, he chose the most dangerous overseas deployments. After his injury, doctors ordered six months of recovery. He was back on the border for counter-terrorism operations within six weeks." She shook her head. "When Ethan wants something, nothing stands in his way."
I felt a chill despite the warmth of the day. Was she warning me after all?
"What do you call him?" she asked suddenly. "In private?"
My face heated. "I don't... I mean, not 'Mr. Bennett,' if that's what you're asking."
Ashley laughed, a genuine sound that transformed her face. "I should hope not. He considers you his girlfriend, after all."
We completed a full circuit of the main quad before she walked me back toward the administration building.
"You should come visit sometime," she said as we approached the steps. "The family home. Not just Ethan's wing."
"Thank you," I managed, though panic fluttered in my chest at the thought.
She smiled again, touching my arm lightly. "It was lovely meeting you, Olivia. I can see why my son is so taken with you."
Before I could formulate a response, she was gliding away, her driver materializing to escort her to a waiting town car.
---
Back at the apartment that evening, I paced the living room, replaying the conversation in my mind. After several false starts, I finally dialed Ethan's number.
"Your mother came to see me at school today," I blurted when he answered.
"I know." His voice was calm, matter-of-fact.
"What do you mean, you know?" My free hand curled into a fist.
"The security guards at your school. They're all on my payroll."
I stopped pacing. "That's not protection, Ethan. That's surveillance."
"It's both," he countered. "And even without the guards, I would have known. She told me she was going to meet you."
"Why?" I demanded, my voice rising. "Why would she suddenly want to meet me now?"
"Because," he said, his voice softening, "she knows her son is in love. She wanted to see the girl who made that happen."
My heart stuttered, then raced. I swallowed hard, unsure how to respond to the implication in his words.
"I have to go to Grace's birthday thing tonight," I said instead, changing the subject. "At that new place on Wilshire."
"What time does it start?" Ethan asked immediately. "And what's the exact address?"
"Around seven. It's that new cocktail lounge—Prism, I think it's called."
"What time will it end?" His voice took on that familiar edge—the one that meant he was already making arrangements in his head.
"I don't know, Ethan. It's a birthday party."
"Text me your location when you arrive," he said, his tone shifting to something more controlled. "I'll pick you up by eight."
The commanding note in his voice ignited something in me—a resistance I couldn't suppress.
"You know what?" I snapped, irritation flaring. "I changed my mind. I'm not going. Call Walter and have him come get me right now. I'll just stay at Oakwood tonight."
"Olivia—" I hung up before he could finish, my hand trembling slightly.