Chapter 163 Solitude

Chapter 163 Solitude
Lawrence went as white as a ghost, the blood draining from his face as his eyes flicked between the camera and Hugo standing behind it. His breath came in short, shallow gasps, though he tried to hide it with a nervous cough. He hadn't noticed Hugo had been watching him the entire time, carefully, patiently. Hugo had asked Sir Levi, almost casually, who had brought the contract to the hearing, and Sir Levi had answered: Lawrence. The name had stuck with Hugo.
He remembered vividly the last time Lawrence and his cohort had tried to maneuver against Ethan, the way they had schemed, and plotted to suspend Ethan . Hugo hadn't forgotten.
After the press release, Lawrence had slipped out under the guise of taking a private call, irritation flashing across his face, his hands shaking slightly. Hugo had followed at a distance, unseen, knowing exactly what Lawrence was capable of. He kept his phone ready, instincts sharp.
Lawrence's words, whispered over the line, confirmed Hugo's suspicions, he was admitting everything, unaware that every syllable was being recorded. Hugo's lips curved into a thin, satisfied smile as he captured the full confession.
Lawrence's eyes widened as he suddenly realized the trap he had walked into, but it was too late. Hugo stepped closer, calm and deliberate, letting the silence stretch, heavy and suffocating.
"This time..." Hugo said, his voice low but unmistakably deadly, "you're finished."
Lawrence's knees nearly buckled, his phone slipping from his trembling fingers. Hugo's eyes held him in place. Lawrence knew he had been caught and there was no escape this time.

Ethan had driven straight to Lena's father's gallery, certain she would be there, immersed in her work. As he stepped out of the car, his chest tightened with a mixture of hope and anxiety. He prayed he wasn't wrong, if she wasn't inside, he didn't know where she could be. He knocked on the door a few times, each rap echoing through the quiet street, but there was no response. His stomach knotted; every second that passed felt heavier.
Inside, Lena stirred, roused from the small nap she had taken on a chaise near the gallery windows. She had practically made the gallery her home, sleeping here more than she had at Penny's house these past few days. Her phone had been switched off, a protective shield against the outside world and the harsh comments she knew would follow recent events. She wasn't ready to face any of it, not today, not now.
Dragging herself to the door, her mind foggy with sleep and lingering frustration, she opened it, and froze.
Ethan stood there, framed by the morning light, his expression a mixture of relief, exhaustion, and something softer, something that made her heart skip. For a heartbeat, neither of them moved, the world outside fading into irrelevance.
Ethan's shoulders slumped as a huge sigh escaped him, the tension of the past days finally spilling over. "Lena..." His voice was low, almost trembling, as if simply seeing her was enough to make him exhale all the worries he had been carrying.
Her own throat tightened, a swirl of emotions she hadn't expected threatening to surface. For once, the noise, the world, and the pain of the past days, all of it, seemed fresh.
Ethan opened his mouth to speak, but before a single word could leave him, Lena cut in, her voice soft but firm.
"I... I'm sorry, Ethan," she said, her eyes flicking down, unable to meet his gaze. "For being careless. For causing you to lose your position... but I really... I don't want to talk right now."
Ethan's chest tightened, but he shook his head, taking a careful step closer. "No, Lena. It wasn't your fault. It was mine." His voice cracked slightly, betraying the weight he had been carrying. "I don't know how my copy got out... I accused you wrongly, and I... I'm so sorry."
Lena's chest ached at his words. She had carried guilt herself, but hearing him beg for forgiveness, admitting his own mistake, stirred something deeper inside her. Her throat tightened as she tried to hold back tears.
Ethan took another step forward, his eyes locked on hers, raw and pleading. "Lena... I can't lose you. Not like this. I don't just... love you, I need you. Every day without you felt like a part of me was missing. I don't care about my position, my reputation, any of it... nothing matters if I lose you. Please... forgive me."
For a moment, Lena's resolve faltered. She had missed him so fiercely. She longed to throw herself into his arms, to hold him until the world made sense again. But fear, the weight of everything they had just endured, held her back. She stepped back slightly, her hands trembling.
"I... I forgive you, Ethan," she said quietly, her voice breaking, "but I... I need to be on my own right now."
He reached out instinctively, desperation in his eyes. "No, Lena, please... just a little..."
She shook her head, gently but firmly, tears glinting in her eyes. "No. This is too much. I can't... not yet. I need time... just time alone."
Ethan's shoulders slumped, the fight leaving him as he realized there was nothing he could do but respect her wishes. His voice was softer now, barely above a whisper. "Okay... I understand. I'll wait. I'll always wait."
She gave him a small, sad smile before turning and stepping back inside the gallery, closing the door gently behind her. Ethan stayed for a moment, his forehead resting against the wood, a silent vow passing between them. No matter what, he would fix this. He would bring her back.
The door clicked softly behind her, and Lena leaned against it for a moment, letting the silence of the gallery wash over her. The sunlight spilled across the polished floors, but it felt cold, distant, almost mocking in its brightness. Her body trembled, and for the first time in days, the walls she had built around herself began to crumble.
She walked slowly toward the center of the gallery, her fingers brushing against the smooth surfaces of a painting she was working on, grounding herself in the familiar surroundings. But nothing could steady the storm inside her. Ethan's words, his confession, his pain, they had pierced her armor, leaving her raw and exposed.
A single tear slid down her cheek, quickly followed by another. She sank to the floor, knees drawn up to her chest, letting the sobs she had been holding back for so long finally escape. She had missed him, missed him more than she had allowed herself to admit, but the hurt, the fear, the whirlwind of the past days, all crashed over her at once.
"I can't..." she whispered into the empty space, her voice cracking. "I can't... ."
She pressed her face into her hands, trembling, as if trying to hold herself together. Memories of Ethan, the way he had looked at her, the desperation in his voice, the honesty in his eyes, flashed behind her closed eyelids. Each memory made her ache, a bittersweet mixture of love and fear.
Minutes, or was it hours?, passed, the gallery silent except for the sound of her quiet sobs. Eventually, she lifted her head, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. She breathed deeply, trying to reclaim a shred of composure.
"I love him," she whispered to the empty room, her voice barely audible. "But I... I need to do this. I need to be alone, if only for a little while."
She sat there, a place that was one home, letting the tears fall freely, knowing that in this quiet, in this solitude, she could begin to gather herself, and perhaps, eventually, find the strength to face him again.