Chapter 21 Chapter 21
Chapter 21
That loud scream again.
Her eyes.
He shouted as he woke up, breathing heavily. His chest was rising and falling fast. He looked around his dark room, the sweat on his forehead already soaking the pillow.
It was 5 a.m.
Another night ruined by that same dream—the same loud scream that always dragged him back to that memory he was trying so hard to bury.
He sat up, running his fingers through his hair.
“It’s possibly an illusion,” he muttered to himself. But he knew it wasn’t. It was real to him, even if it only existed in his head.
He reached for the small bottle on his bedside drawer, his hand shaking slightly. Without counting, he poured three pills into his palm and threw them into his mouth, swallowing them dry.
He hated the bitter taste, but it was something his body had already gotten used to. It wasn’t medicine anymore it was an addiction.
He leaned back for a moment, closing his eyes.
Just breathe. Just breathe.
He stood up, heading straight to the bathroom.
After a cold shower, he changed into a clean black suit, sprayed his perfume, grabbed his car keys, and went downstairs. He wanted to get to the office early. He needed something to distract his mind.
Downstairs, the familiar smell of toasted bread and brewed coffee filled the Castellan villa. His father, Richard Castellan, sat at the head of the long dining table, reading the morning newspaper. His mother, Maria, sat beside him, sipping tea quietly.
Ethan walked past them in a hurry. “Good morning, Mom. Good morning, Dad,” he said coldly, not stopping his steps.
“Stop,” Richard’s firm voice cut through the silence.
Ethan paused. His back was to them.
Maria sighed softly. She had already seen where this was going.
“When last did you have breakfast or dinner here?” Richard asked, dropping his newspaper on the table.
Ethan didn’t answer. He tightened his grip on his car keys, still standing with his back to them.
“I said, when last did you have breakfast with your family?” Richard repeated, his voice rising a bit.
Ethan finally turned around. “Sorry, Dad. I have some important meetings to attend today,” he said calmly.
“Every day, Ethan. Every single day, it’s the same excuse,” Richard said, shaking his head. “You no longer spend time with anyone.
You’re either locked up in that office or taking those pills I warned you about. You’ve become someone else these past months. This isn’t you.”
Maria reached for her husband’s hand. “Richard ” she tried to calm him, but he continued.
“I’ve done everything to help you,” Richard said firmly. “I arranged for the best doctors in China. You refused every single appointment. And now, it’s starting to mess you up completely.”
Ethan didn’t say a word. He just stood there, silent.
“And Amelia?” Richard asked suddenly.
Ethan raised his eyes to meet his father’s. “What about Amelia?”
“You let her go,” Richard said. “Do you know how much her father supported the Castellan enterprise from scratch? How much he did for this company?”
Ethan clenched his jaw. “He cooperated with you, Dad, not with me. And what does that have to do with my life?”
Richard slammed his hand on the table. “It has a lot to do with you! I want you and Amelia married. That partnership could take our business higher.”
Ethan’s voice rose slightly. “I can’t be with a woman like Amelia. Never.”
Richard’s eyes narrowed. “You’re testing my patience, Ethan. A woman like Amelia even looked at someone like you with that health condition and you think you can do better?”
The words hit harder than Richard probably intended.
Maria sat quietly, her eyes on her son. She didn’t speak, but her silence meant she agreed with her husband.
Ethan took a slow breath. “I don’t mind staying single. And for the record, my mental health isn’t as bad as you both think,” he said coldly.
“Really?” Richard said, standing. “You’re swallowing three pills before sunrise and calling that fine? Look at you, you can’t even sleep without drugs. You’re restless, unstable, and distant. You’re losing control, Ethan. And one day, you’ll lose everything if you keep living like this.”
Ethan’s jaw tightened. His chest burned, not from guilt but from anger.
“I’ve been managing the company day and night,” he said, his tone sharp. “Everything runs perfectly. But all you see is the fault in me. Maybe what you both want is a puppet son, not a real one.”
“Watch your tone,” Richard warned.
Ethan looked away, fighting the urge to shout. “I have to go.”
Maria stood slowly. “Ethan, please sit. Have something to eat first. We can talk about this calmly,” she said softly.
He looked at her for a few seconds. For a brief moment, he saw the same gentle mother who used to kiss him goodnight when he was a child. But now, she just sat beside the man who treated him like a business project.
“I’m fine, Mom,” he said quietly. “You and Dad eat. I’ll be late for work.”
“Work,” Richard muttered under his breath. “That’s all you know now.”
Ethan ignored him. He turned around and walked toward the door.
“Ethan!” his father called again.
He didn’t stop this time. He walked out of the dining hall, his footsteps echoing across the marble floor.
Outside, the air was cool and quiet. The sun had barely risen, leaving the sky painted in pale gray. He pressed the car remote and opened the door, sliding into the driver’s seat. For a moment, he just sat there, gripping the steering wheel.
He could still hear his father’s voice in his head, telling him he wasn’t okay.
Maybe he was right. Maybe he wasn’t. But Ethan didn’t care.
He started the engine. The sound broke the silence around the villa.
He glanced at the rearview mirror, saw his reflection tired eyes, dark circles, a face that had lost its peace and then looked away.
“Love, health, family,” he said to himself. “They all come with conditions.”
He put the car in gear and drove out of the Castellan villa.
The gate opened slowly, and as he drove onto the open road, he pressed harder on the accelerator, th
e engine roaring louder than it needed to.
He didn’t know if he was running from something or just trying to silence everything inside him.
But one thing was clear—he wasn’t ready to stop. Not yet.