Chapter 58 I Decide
I remained silent as Ethan held me, his voice uncharacteristically gentle as he pleaded, "Just don't leave me, okay?"
But I couldn't respond. I truly didn't want to go back to him, back to that suffocating life where every breath felt monitored. His arms around me—once a place of twisted comfort—now felt like chains.
Ethan finally released me, his eyes darkening as they swept over my torn dress. His jaw tightened. "You rest here. I'll be back shortly."
The heavy door closed behind him, leaving me alone in the VIP room. My breathing came in shallow gasps as I struggled to compose myself. The torn fabric of my dress gaped open, exposing more skin than I was comfortable with, but I couldn't bring myself to move.
The minutes crawled by like hours in that luxurious prison. I couldn't stop shaking, my body's natural response to being in his presence again.
I heard the door open and instinctively flinched, my whole body tensing like a cornered animal. Ethan stepped back into the room, his suit jacket gone, white shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, tie loosened. The click of the door closing echoed like a gunshot in the quiet room, making me sink deeper into the sofa.
"You're... you're done out there?" My voice betrayed me, coming out small and frightened.
My fear wasn't unjustified. I knew Ethan's temperament all too well. According to his rules, being touched by another man—even unwillingly—was crossing a line. I remembered that night at the Japanese restaurant, how I'd merely smiled at the owner and suffered his cold fury afterward, which led to my fever. Another time, when a guy asked for my number and I politely declined, Ethan had been merciless that night, gripping my waist as he hissed: "You smile at him the exact same way you smile at me."
The memories made my stomach churn. I curled into myself, collapsing against the sofa, burying my face in my hands as silent tears escaped.
How could I escape him? What would it take to be free of Ethan Bennett?
He sat on the edge of the sofa, his hand lightly patting my back. "What's wrong, Liv? Are you afraid of me? Or just shaken by what happened tonight?"
I remained stubbornly silent. Both. It was both.
Before our separation, I would have instantly reassured him, carefully watching his mood, always wary of upsetting him. But tonight, I didn't want to placate him. I didn't want to lie anymore.
He laughed, a sound both cold and bitter. "I see."
After a few seconds of tense silence, I finally spoke, my voice breaking: "Mr. Bennett, we ended this months ago. You said we were done."
Ethan reached out, brushing away tears I hadn't realized were streaming down my face. His touch was unexpectedly gentle. "I've changed my mind. I don't want it to be over."
I looked up at him, anger flashing through my fear. "Why do you get to decide when we start and when we end? Is this how it works? You call all the shots?"
Ethan's eyes locked with mine, his voice low and certain: "Because I'm Ethan Bennett."
Four simple words, containing unlimited power and confidence. Fresh tears spilled down my cheeks, born of frustration and helplessness.
"And what if I don't agree? What if I want out?" I asked, a bitter smile twisting my lips.
He patted my knee, his posture radiating superiority. "Liv, don't be difficult. You know this is for the best."
His condescending tone ignited something in me. I shoved his hand away. "I'm terrified of you! Do you understand? I've never loved you—never! All those times I said I liked you, said you were good to me—I was lying. I was just trying to keep you happy because I was afraid of what would happen if I didn't."
My words hit him like physical blows. His expression momentarily contorted before he regained control, suppressing his anger. His voice dropped dangerously low: "You don't mean that. I'll give you three days to think about it."
"And if I don't give you an answer after three days?" I challenged, my voice stronger than I felt.
He stood up, towering over me. "As long as I want, you'll only be with me. No one else can have you."
His naked declaration of possession pushed me over the edge. "Then you might as well kill me! Is that what you want?"
Ethan smiled, a cold, frightening curve of his lips. "Liv, I love you too much to want you dead."
"This isn't love, Ethan. This is possession. This is control. You don't even know what love is." My voice broke, but I forced myself to continue. "Real love doesn't make someone afraid to breathe wrong or speak their mind."
Pain and something more complex flashed across his face. I turned away, unable to bear the sight. "Please let me go. We're not good for each other. Can't you see that?"
A tense silence hung between us. The only sounds were my ragged breathing and the distant thump of music from the club below. Then suddenly, he moved forward, pulling me forcefully into his arms. His thumb pressed hard against my lips.
"Remember when you'd beg me in those nights together—was that good for us? Tell me, was it?" His breath was hot against my ear.
The crude reminder made me sick. I bit down on his hand, tasting copper. He didn't flinch, just laughed. "Harder. Put some effort into it."
I shoved his hand away, revolted by the metallic taste of his blood. I turned my face away, refusing to look at him.
Ethan gripped my neck, forcing me to face him. I squeezed my eyes shut, refusing to meet his gaze.
"Open your eyes," he commanded, his voice like frost.
My eyelashes fluttered, but I kept them closed. I wouldn't give in. Not anymore.
He clenched his jaw, his icy words escaping through gritted teeth: "What's appropriate or not, I decide."
"You decide?" I challenged, eyes still closed but voice gaining strength. "Who the hell do you think you are?"