Ethan didn't expect the silence to feel this loud.
He stood in her penthouse, heart hammering against his ribs like it wanted out. The shadows were thicker here—not from the lights, but from the weight of memory. The photo frame on the mantle mocked him.
Serena Vaughn's family. Her life. Her truth.
And he had helped bury it.
The door clicked. He turned.
Alessia stepped in, heels sharp against the marble. Her eyes locked onto him immediately. Cold. Steeled.
"This is trespass," she said.
"I need answers."
She walked past him like he was a shadow. Like he didn't exist.
But he pressed on. Held out the photo.
"This was never Alessia's," he said. "This was Serena's. You were Serena."
She didn't answer.
"I know it's you," Ethan continued. "The mark behind your ear. Your voice. Your laugh."
Silence.
Then, at last—she spoke.
"You're late. You're three years too late to play savior."
He stepped closer. Voice low, aching.
"They forced my hand, Serena."
Alessia turned, slowly. "Forced?"
He flinched at the way she said it.
"They had something on me—my father's company was laundering through Vaughn Industries. I didn't know until it was too late. When your stepmother offered me a deal—"
"—You took it," she cut in, voice sharper than glass.
"I thought I could protect you. That if I played along, I could find a way out—"
"You watched me die."
That silenced him.
"I begged you, Ethan," she whispered, each word brittle. "I begged you with my eyes. But you didn't even blink."
His chest tightened. "I thought it wasn't real. I thought they'd just scare you,
"You joined them, Ethan."
Tears burned the backs of her eyes, but she refused to cry.
He stepped forward again. "I never stopped loving you."
She laughed—hollow, haunted.
"Love?" Her voice cracked like thunder. "You loved me enough to let them bury me?"
"I was a coward," Ethan admitted. "But I was also a son… a son whose father was facing life in prison. They made sure I couldn't say no."
"You didn't say no. That's the difference."
A long pause.
He tried to reach for her hand. She stepped back.
"You came here for forgiveness," she said. "But all I have is fire."
She walked to the window, city lights flickering below.
"You don't get to escape what you did."
He didn't answer.
He knew he never would.
Meanwhile…
In the shadows of the gala, Lucian stood still, arms crossed, his gaze fixed on the security feed.
He watched Camille shrink beneath the weight of Alessia's trap.
A small, grim smile played at his lips.
But while the cameras showed power, Lucian's mind wandered to a different memory—one not captured on tape.
Nine years ago, he stood in front of a judge for a crime he didn't commit.
Not because he was guilty. But because the woman he loved had said he was.
Her name was Anya.
They met in law school. She was brilliant, fearless, and dangerous in all the ways he never saw coming. They built a life together—or so he thought.
Until the day she framed him.
Fraud. Embezzlement. Wire transfers tied to his name.
All planted by the woman who once whispered "forever" into his skin.
He spent eleven months in prison before the truth surfaced. By then, everything he believed in had already bled out.
Since then, trust wasn't something Lucian gave. It was something people earned through scars.
Serena Vaughn was one of the few who did.
Not because she was kind.
But because she was wounded.
Two people who'd been broken by love didn't need words.
Just loyalty.
And fire.
That's why he followed her into this war. Not for justice. Not for revenge.
But if someone like Alessia could survive betrayal, rise from her grave, and walk into a room with her spine made of steel—
Then maybe, just maybe, so could he.
Ethan's POV -
She looked at him like he was the reason the sun never rose again.
Maybe he was.
But Ethan Hart had always been good at wearing regret like a tailored suit—just tight enough to look convincing, loose enough not to choke him.
He watched Alessia—Serena—walk away from him again, every step stiff with restraint. Her silence? More dangerous than any slap.
She didn't believe him. Not entirely.
But she wanted to.
And that was enough.
He had spun the lie carefully: "I was blackmailed."
It sounded better than: "I chose myself over you."
He could almost see it playing back in his mind—the day they made the offer. Camille. Her Stepmother. And her best friend.
They didn't need to force his hand.
Just promised him a future where Serena was out of the picture and his path was clear.
And he had taken it.
Now, three years later, here she was—resurrected and angry, but not unreachable.
And Ethan knew how to play broken.
He had played it before… for judges. For investors. For press.
But this?
This was the ultimate performance.
He had cried. Apologized. Whispered that he was blackmailed, that he thought she'd survive, that he never wanted her to disappear.
She hadn't screamed.
She hadn't forgiven.
But her hands had trembled.
And that tremor? That hesitation?
It meant he still had a shot.
A second chance to get her back… or at the very least, to keep her from ruining everything.
Because if Serena Vaughn started talking—if she exposed what really happened—the empire he'd built with blood and betrayal would fall like ash.
And Ethan Hart didn't lose.
He adjusted his cuffs, looked out at the city lights, and smiled.
Let her rage.
Let her burn.
As long as she still loved him a little.
He could still win.