Back at his office, Ethan tried to focus on the work he left the previous day. He could have had everything transferred to the house, avoided the whispers, avoided her—but he didn't.
Because she was there.
The thought of last night kept replaying in his mind. He knew exactly what it could lead to. She was young, untouched, and emotional. He'd seen how those kinds of moments could blur things, especially for someone like her.
Leaving that morning without a word was his way of sending a silent message: It didn't mean anything.
But if he was being honest with himself, he wasn't so sure it meant nothing.
He had tried checking on her but stopped. He didn't want to complicate things further. Maybe sending Christian with the message about her brother's surgery was a safe way to reach out without doing so directly.
He picked up his phone and called.
Christian walked into his office not long after, calm as always, but with something on his mind.
"You know," he started, sinking into the chair opposite Ethan, "you shouldn't have led that girl on."
"What girl?" Ethan replied, even though he already knew the answer.
"Lena. Your wife."
Ethan raised a brow. "Did she say I led her on?"
"No. She doesn't need to. I saw it on her face."
Ethan exhaled, leaning back. "It just happened. She gave her consent. I didn't take advantage of her."
Christian narrowed his eyes. "That girl is getting too close. You know what happens when someone gets too close."
Ethan looked away. "I'm aware. That's why I left this morning. Let her understand nothing's changed."
Christian shook his head. "Just… don't get caught in your own mess. You said it yourself—you're not built for this."
"I know," Ethan murmured. "Anyway, I'm done for the day. Make the arrangements for the events."
Christian nodded. "I'll handle it."
---
Later that afternoon, Ethan headed back to his mansion, intending to grab a few things. His driver pulled up, and Ethan moved swiftly through the building, avoiding interactions.
But just as he passed the hallway that led to the sixth floor, something caught his eye.
The door. The forbidden door.
Slightly open.
He froze.
That floor—no one was allowed to go there. The entrance required a security code. The fact that someone even tried filled him with a sudden burst of fury.
He stormed to the maids' lounge.
Every maid stood immediately when they saw him.
"Who's in charge of the sixth floor?" Ethan demanded, his voice razor-sharp.
"I—I am, sir," Clara stammered.
"Come with me."
Lena, who had been coming to ask the maids about some unfamiliar things, saw Ethan charge past with Clara trailing behind him. His energy was furious, tight. She followed at a distance.
Ethan stopped in front of the sixth-floor door, pointing at it with an expression of betrayal and fury.
"You know this floor is off-limits," he snapped.
"I didn't go in," Clara stuttered. "I saw the door open and checked, but I couldn't enter. I don't have the code—"
"You're one of my longest-serving staff, Clara. And now you conveniently forget the rules?"
Lena's throat closed up.
He was blaming Clara. And Clara didn't do it.
She had. Even though she hadn't crossed the door, her curiosity had gotten too close.
Ethan was still raging. "If you can't provide who did, you're fired!"
"No—" Lena stepped forward. "It was me. I didn't enter, I swear. I just… saw the door open a bit. I didn't mean anything by it."
Ethan turned to her, and the coldness in his eyes made her take a step back.
"You?" he asked lowly.
"I was curious. I didn't go in. I couldn't."
"You think this place is a playground?" His voice was ice. "You think you can wander anywhere just because you're here for three months?"
"I'm sorry—"
"You have no idea what you're playing with," he snapped.
Then it happened.
His breathing became labored. His fingers trembled. His eyes lost focus. His body went stiff.
"Sir?" Clara whispered. Her fear changed. She wasn't afraid of being fired anymore—she was afraid for him.
Christian arrived just then, alerted by the staff.
"It's today, isn't it?" Christian said softly, approaching Ethan with caution.
Lena frowned. "Today?"
Clara lowered her voice beside her. "It's the day he always gets like this. Every year. For the past eleven years."
Christian gently placed his hand on Ethan's back, guiding him away.
Ethan didn't say a word to Lena.
He just left.
Lena stood frozen, shaken.
The cracks in Ethan's perfectly curated world weren't just forming.
They had always been there.
And now, she could feel them pulling her in—whether she wanted to be or not
---
The mansion felt colder than usual—quiet, vast, and heavy. The kind of silence that didn't just exist in sound, but in weight. Lena hadn't touched her lunch. Not because it wasn't good, but because her appetite was gone.
No one blamed her. Not even Clara.
But they looked at her differently now. Not with anger—just quiet pity.
Her mother's words echoed in her head like a haunting lullaby.
"Lena, you don't have to solve everything. Some doors aren't meant to be opened."
She hadn't meant to dig. She wasn't trying to fix Ethan. But she was certain now—whatever haunted him was behind that locked chamber on the sixth floor. Whatever made him cold… it started there.
Lena sat alone on the balcony, her knees tucked to her chest, gazing out at the skyline. The estate was beautiful—perfect, really. Ethan had everything money could buy, everything people dreamed of.
Yet it clearly didn't save him.
Not from whatever ate away at him in silence.
---
It was past midnight when she heard the front door open and shut.
Ethan was back.
She didn't expect him to say anything to her. And honestly, she was planning to keep her distance. So when he passed her by and walked straight to his bedroom, she continued folding the rest of her clothes. Calmly. Quietly. Until she felt his presence behind her again.
He had showered. Water still clung to his hair. He looked tired.
"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice low but clear.
She turned to him. "I thought I'd move to the boys' quarters. We don't have to share a room."
Ethan's eyes narrowed. "No. That's not happening."
She raised a brow. "Why not? I figured the maids wouldn't ask questions. And clearly… I crossed a line."
"Are you scared of me?" he asked.
"Hell no," she replied instantly. "Why should I be?"
"You broke the rule," he said, folding his arms. "If anything, I should be mad at you."
"I know." She looked away. "But I'm not trying to be in your way. I just thought... distance might help."
Ethan was silent for a long moment before saying, "I'm sorry you had to see me like that. It wasn't you. I didn't mean to scare you."
Lena looked up. "Yeah, I figured. It wasn't about me. It was something… behind that door, wasn't it?"
He didn't respond. He didn't deny it either.
After a pause, he gestured to the bed and said casually, "It's big enough for both of us to sleep on opposite edges without indulging in each other."
Lena smiled faintly. "Thanks."
She slid under the covers, eyes fixed on the ceiling, trying to make sense of everything that had happened in the last forty-eight hours.
Just before turning out the light, Ethan's voice came again, softer this time.
"Lena…"
She turned toward him.
"We have the gala tomorrow. It's important. There's a contract tied to it."
Of course.
Business. Always business.
As if he hadn't just unravelled in front of her.
As if nothing had happened.
Lena didn't respond.
She just stared at the ceiling again, wondering how someone so put together on the outside could be coming undone beneath it all.
And beside her, Ethan closed his eyes—but didn't sleep.
He never did this time of year.
---