Time had shifted back to the present, and Ethan still sat on the edge of Daniel's bed, lost in thought. The memories he had revisited weighed heavily on him, leaving a mix of disappointment and confusion swirling in his mind. Do I really love Alicia, or am I just lying to myself? The question echoed relentlessly until he felt small and unworthy. With a faint, sad smile, he whispered to himself, "I… can't even understand my own feelings."
Deciding it was best to leave, he rose silently, the quiet creak of the floor beneath him sounding louder than usual. He stepped out of the room and made his way downstairs, the house still and dimly lit by the soft morning light filtering through the curtains.
In the living room, a man rose from the couch as soon as he noticed him. "You're awake, Ethan," he said. It was Daniel's father, his eyes studying him carefully. "Did something happen between you and Daniel? He left in a bad mood… said he was going for a walk."
Ethan exhaled slowly, the weight of guilt settling deep in his chest. He knew he had upset Daniel, though he planned to apologize later. For now, he chose to hide the truth. "Nothing, really. He's always like that," he said quietly, his voice low.
Daniel's father shook his head, a small, resigned sigh escaping him. "This boy never takes things seriously."
Ethan's shoulders slumped slightly. "It was my fault," he admitted softly. "We argued, and I ruined his mood."
The older man's expression softened, confusion briefly passing across his features. He didn't press further, only nodded gently. "Friends argue sometimes. Don't worry too much. Just apologize if you want to."
Ethan managed a small, grateful smile. "I will."
A quiet settled between them, broken only when Daniel's father spoke again, his voice gentle now. "You know, Ethan… Daniel isn't really my son."
Ethan froze, eyes widening. "What do you mean?"
The man exhaled heavily. "Daniel's real parents died in a car accident. He was in the accident too, but he lost all memory of his past. I'm his late father's brother—Henry Foster. After the accident, I adopted him and gave him my surname. That's how he became Daniel Foster."
Ethan's mind spun as he tried to process the revelation. "Does Daniel know?"
"No," Henry said firmly. "And I don't want him to. He doesn't need that burden. I just want him to live in peace. Sometimes, though, I wonder if I've truly been a good father to him."
Ethan softened, his voice steadying. "Uncle, you've been a good father. You did what you had to. Even if he isn't your own son, you raised him with love… he's lucky to have you. Honestly, he's much better than me."
Henry gave a small, approving nod. "Don't push yourself too hard, Ethan. Daniel told me what happened last night. And don't worry—I spoke to your father too. I didn't mention what happened at the bridge. I only said you stayed to help him with his studies."
Ethan's lips curved in a soft smile. "Thank you, Uncle."
Then, hesitating slightly, he added, "But… Sir Rowan asked me to tell you he wants to speak with you. He said you should come home as soon as possible."
Ethan bowed his head in acknowledgment. "Thank you, Uncle, for letting me know." With that, he stepped out into the cool morning air.
The town was waking slowly. A gentle breeze stirred the scent of wet stone and dew-soaked grass. Only the distant clatter of a horse-drawn carriage and the soft chirping of sparrows broke the quiet. Ethan walked steadily, coat brushing lightly against his legs, his mind clouded with the looming thought of his father's summons. What does Father want to talk about?
Soon, the familiar sight of his family's grand home rose before him, its tall windows catching the sunlight and glowing faintly golden. He pushed open the heavy door, stepping into the cooler interior, faintly perfumed by polished wood and the lingering scent of old books.
The hall was silent except for the faint crackle of the fireplace. His father, Sir Rowan, stood with his back to him, gazing at the large portrait of his late wife that adorned the wall. Her soft expression lent the hall an almost sacred stillness.
Without turning, Rowan spoke, his voice controlled yet sharp. "I heard you stayed at Daniel's home last night to help him with his studies?"
Ethan nodded lightly. "Yes."
Rowan gave a short, approving nod. Then his tone shifted, firm but calm. "Good. Listen, at the start of next year, we are going to Camden. There will be a ball hosted by Mr. Duke Whitemore."
The name struck a chord, and Ethan murmured under his breath, "Duke Whitemore…"
"Yes," Rowan continued, turning to face him at last. The firelight danced across his sharp features. "Duke Whitemore invited us, thanks to you. He was impressed by how you handled yourself at the last ball—how you used your wit to humiliate Edward when he tried to embarrass us. He wants to see you again. There is only one month left in 2000. We leave January 1st, 2001. Understood?"
Ethan inclined his head respectfully. "Yes, Father."
Rowan's steps faded up the staircase, leaving Ethan alone in the vast hall. His gaze drifted upward to the large portrait above the fireplace, his mother's face forever serene. Her gentle eyes seemed to meet his own, filling him with warmth tinged with sorrow.
"I wish you were here, Mother," he whispered, voice trembling slightly.
He lowered his head, thoughts heavy, as the polished floor reflected the flickering chandelier above. If we go to that ball… Alicia will be there. Should I tell her how I feel? Or should I let her go? If I don't speak, I'll regret it… but what if I lose her completely?
The hall seemed colder, shadows stretching across the marble like unspoken questions. Ethan's heart bore a weight heavier than any duty his father had ever imposed, and he remained there, still and silent, lost in the storm of his own emotions. Ethan's thoughts lingered on Daniel. The weight of the morning's conversation and his own doubts pressed down on him until finally, he decided, I need to see him. Without another moment of hesitation, he stepped outside. He already knew where Daniel would be.
After some time, Ethan's footsteps brought him to the familiar place—the old road bridge. The iron railings glistened faintly under the pale daylight, the water below moving with a slow, restless current. It was the same spot where Ethan had broken down the night before.
And there, as expected, stood Daniel, leaning casually against the railing, eyes fixed on the water as though the ripples carried answers only he could see.
Ethan exhaled softly. "I knew I would find you here."
Daniel smirked but didn't turn his head. "I knew you'd come. Déjà vu, isn't it? Funny—I said the same thing when I found you here last night."
Ethan walked up beside him, resting his hands on the railing but turning his gaze toward the sky instead. White clouds drifted lazily above, and after a moment, he chuckled. "Yeah… you're right."
Silence hung for a heartbeat before Ethan's face grew heavy with regret. He lowered his eyes and started, "I'm… sor—"
Before he could finish, Daniel cut in quickly, his tone softer than his words. "It wasn't your fault. Don't worry. I should be the one apologizing. For pushing you to confess to Alicia. Sorry for that."
Ethan smiled faintly, shaking his head. "No… you weren't wrong. I am avoiding my feelings. I'm just… confused. You only tried to help me. Thank you for that. But I'm still scared."
Daniel laughed under his breath, finally turning just enough to glance at Ethan. "Mister Ethan—smart enough to take down a snake like Edward Kingsley, but too scared to tell one girl how he feels. Funny how that works."
Ethan gave a quiet laugh, though his chest still felt heavy.
Daniel's smirk softened into something gentler. "Well, I'm not going to force you anymore. Don't worry, my friend, you'll figure it out. I believe in you. But I hope you find your way before it's too late."
The sound of the river below filled the silence that followed, mingling with the whisper of the wind through the railings. Two boys stood side by side, one urging his friend to accept his heart, the other lost in confusion, both bound by the quiet strength of their friendship. The late afternoon light stretched across the river, painting the water in fading gold. A soft wind swept over the bridge, rattling the iron railings and carrying the faint scent of damp stone. Ethan's coat fluttered at his side as he leaned against the railing, his eyes following the rippling current below.
"Mr. Duke invited me and Father to Camden," he said at last, his tone thoughtful. "There's going to be a ball on January 1st, 2001. I'm not sure why—probably something to do with business. But… Father also told me to bring you along."
Daniel turned to him with a smirk, his eyes glinting. "Oh my, looks like Uncle Rowan's heart is finally thawing. Next thing you know, he'll be singing lullabies."
Ethan chuckled under his breath. "Maybe."
They shared a glance and laughed together, the sound echoing faintly across the quiet bridge. For a moment, it felt almost like they had left their troubles behind with the river's flow.
"You'll be 21 by then," Daniel said with mock seriousness.
"Yes," Ethan replied simply.
Daniel's smirk deepened. "And I bet you've already been thinking about Alicia. Wondering if you should pour your heart out to her at the ball, since she'll definitely be there. Am I right?"
Ethan's face flushed red. "Yeah…"
Daniel burst into laughter, loud enough to startle a bird from a nearby lamppost. "You're so easy to predict, Ethan. Honestly, you're like an open book written in big, bold letters!"
"Shut up," Ethan muttered, embarrassed, shoving Daniel's shoulder.
Daniel shoved him back, and soon they were both laughing like children, their voices blending with the wind. For a while, everything felt light, the bridge carrying not just their footsteps but also their friendship.
But the laughter faded when Daniel's gaze drifted back to the water. His smile slowly disappeared, replaced by something heavier. His reflection in the river looked twisted, uncertain, as though it was another version of himself staring back.
Ethan noticed immediately. "What's wrong, Daniel?"
Daniel's voice came low, barely above the water's murmur. "Henry Foster… he's not my real father. My real parents died. In that car accident."
Ethan stiffened, confusion clouding his face. "What are you talking about? Stop saying nonsense. Uncle Henry is your father."
Daniel finally turned to him, eyes sharp and glistening. "If he really is, then where's my mother? Every time I asked about her, he dodged the question. He'd change the subject, pretend like I hadn't spoken. Why, Ethan? Why won't he tell me?"
Ethan opened his mouth, but no words came. His chest felt heavy, his mind racing. "It's… it's not like that—"
"Ethan," Daniel cut him off, voice breaking but steady. "Stop hiding it. I heard you talking to him."
Ethan fell silent, guilt washing over him.
Daniel let out a shaky breath, wiping at the tears that had escaped. His voice softened. "I'm not angry. Not with you. Not with him. It's fate, isn't it? My parents died in that accident, and I survived. Death… death is something no one can escape. No one can stop."
The wind brushed past them again, almost mournful.
Ethan lowered his head, whispering, "Yeah… you're right. But most people are too afraid to accept it."
Daniel nodded slowly. His lips curved into a fragile smile. "Still… Henry—no, Father—he's the greatest father I could ever hope for."
Ethan reached out, resting a firm hand on his friend's shoulder. "Yes. He really is."
For a moment, silence fell between them again. Ethan's thoughts, however, turned inward. Why does my father feel so different from Uncle Henry? Why does his presence feel more like duty than love?
The water below shimmered, carrying their secrets away.
Daniel looked back at him, calm now. "Don't let him know that I found out. Let him believe I don't remember."
Ethan met his eyes firmly. "Yeah. I know."
They stood together, two boys on a bridge—sharing laughter, sorrow, and the unspoken weight of truths neither of them could completely escape. Time passed like the wind, and soon everything settled into the rhythm of normal life. Then, the night of New Year's Eve arrived, carrying with it a sense of anticipation.
In his room, Ethan stood by the window, gazing out at the dark sky lit by bursts of firecrackers. The world outside was alive with laughter and wishes for the new year, but inside, his heart carried an emptiness that no fireworks could fill. He whispered to himself, "So finally, it's time." The thought of tomorrow, of facing Alicia, weighed heavily on him. Hope and fear clashed within him. Maybe this year I won't be a coward… maybe this year I will tell her what I feel.
The next morning arrived with a crisp winter chill. Inside the grand hall of their estate, Rowan stood with Ethan and Daniel. On the wall nearby hung the elegant portrait of Ethan's mother, Rowan's late wife, her painted eyes watching over them silently.
Rowan, stern but composed, broke the silence. "So, you both are ready?"
"Yes," Ethan and Daniel replied in unison.
"Good," Rowan continued, his tone firm. "Listen carefully. Mr. Duke has sent two cars for us. We will first go to his residence in Camden. The ball will begin tonight, but he has invited us earlier. He wishes to speak with us… and especially with you, Ethan."
Ethan's heart skipped. A flicker of shock rushed through him, though he quickly lowered his gaze, hiding it with a polite bow. "Understood," he said softly, though his chest tightened with curiosity and unease.
Just then, a servant entered, bowing quickly. "Sir, the cars have arrived."
"Let us go," Rowan commanded. With a long stride, he left the hall.
Ethan lingered for a moment, staring at his mother's portrait. The stillness of her painted smile seemed to comfort and unsettle him at the same time. With a sigh, he turned away and followed Daniel outside.
Two sleek cars stood waiting in the cold morning air. Rowan climbed into the first, while Ethan and Daniel entered the second. As the carriage rolled through the frosty streets toward Camden, Ethan's eyes remained fixed on the blur of scenery outside. His thoughts circled endlessly around Alicia, the ball, and the mysterious matter Mr. Duke wished to discuss.
Daniel, sitting beside him, watched quietly. He could see the storm brewing in Ethan's mind. With a small, knowing smirk, he thought to himself, He's stressed about Alicia… and about Duke. Poor Ethan, he tries to hide it, but I can read him like an open book.
The silence inside the car carried weight, filled with unsaid words, nervous hopes, and the faint echo of firecrackers that had welcomed the new year.
At last, the cars rolled through the gates of Mr. Duke's residence. It was not just a house but a sprawling mansion, its grandeur on full display. A wide yard stretched ahead, complete with a fountain that shimmered in the winter sunlight. To the side, a perfectly arranged tea spot overlooked the garden, a place clearly designed for luxury and show.
Daniel's eyes lit up with excitement, his curiosity taking hold at the sheer scale of the place. Ethan, on the other hand, was silent, caught somewhere between awe and disbelief. The towering structure, the sheer size of the yard, and the elegance of the fountain left him stunned. Rowan, however, showed no reaction at all. His face remained calm and indifferent, as though he had seen such wealth countless times before and it held no power over him.
The car finally came to a halt at the grand front gate. Standing there already, as though expecting them, was Mr. Duke, flanked by his loyal servant. His smile was wide, his presence commanding.
"Hahaha, welcome to my mansion! Come, let's get inside," Duke boomed with laughter, striding forward to greet them.
They entered together, Duke leading the way through wide corridors lined with polished marble floors. The walls gleamed white, adorned with paintings that spoke of wealth and heritage. Every corner revealed careful architecture, carved with precision, giving the mansion both grandeur and grace. Ethan and Daniel exchanged glances, quietly marveling at the sight, while Rowan walked with a steady, unimpressed calm.
Soon, they reached a spacious guest room. A large table stood in the center, with single couches arranged neatly on each side. Duke gestured for them to sit, and once they had settled, his servant arrived carrying trays of drinks and light snacks.
Rowan leaned back in his chair, his eyes fixed on Duke. "So, Mr. Duke," he began, his voice calm but sharp, "why did you invite us here so early, before the ballroom event?"
Duke chuckled, raising his hand. "Rowan, my friend, take a breath first."
Rowan's expression did not soften. He leaned slightly forward. "A Western billionaire tells me to take a breath seriously? What are you plotting, Duke?"
The atmosphere shifted in an instant. Ethan and Daniel tensed, their nerves rising. The room felt heavy, the air thick as though one wrong word might lead to a clash of titans.
But Duke only laughed again, his voice deep and unshaken. "I'm not plotting anything. Actually, I have nothing much to discuss with you. The one I wish to speak with is your son."
For the first time, Rowan's composure cracked. Shock flickered across his face, followed by irritation. "If you wanted to speak to my son, then why did you drag me here?"
Duke's smile remained. "Because with you, Rowan, it's always business. I wanted to speak to you as well, but only on something simple and unimportant. With Ethan, however, I have something else in mind." His gaze shifted toward Ethan, his eyes glinting with an unreadable intent.
The tension deepened. Daniel's curiosity sharpened, almost excited by the unfolding mystery. Ethan sat rigid, uncertain of what Duke wanted yet determined not to show weakness. Rowan's jaw tightened, his instincts telling him this was no casual talk but the start of something larger.
Duke leaned back in his chair, his voice smooth like velvet hiding steel. "For now, relax. I want the three of you to stay here for another day, maybe two. You may leave tomorrow, or the day after if you wish. The choice is yours." The grand hall fell quiet. Daniel nearly bounced in his seat at the idea of staying longer in such a mansion, his eyes darting across the chandeliers and polished floors as if he wanted to carve the memory into his soul. Ethan sat still, his hands clenched, the weight of unease pressing down on him. Rowan's sharp gaze never left Duke, for he knew well—hospitality from this man always hid a price.
Duke's lips curled into a smile. "Ethan. Once, you removed an obstacle in your father's path. Not by force, but through intellect. I was impressed." Ethan stiffened, a cold knot twisting in his chest. Duke's attention shifted. "And Rowan, I have an offer for you. Or rather… for your son."
The room froze. Rowan's tone was calm, but his words cut sharp. "What do you mean by that, Mr. Duke?"
"I want your son to work for me. To protect my fame, my company, my name. He will be paid handsomely," Duke replied with a smirk, his eyes locking on Ethan like a predator savoring its prey. Ethan's stomach tightened, his throat dry. Daniel's anxious eyes flickered toward him, waiting to see how he would react.
"And what will it benefit me?" Rowan asked, his voice a cold blade.
Duke let out a low laugh. "That's what I like about you, Rowan. Always ready to profit. Always willing to sell your child if it benefits you. What a cold father." His words sliced through the air. Ethan's chest ached, disappointment flashing across his face, but Rowan did not flinch.
Duke leaned forward. "Here's the deal. I am ready to sign a contract with you for a joint company. You'll own eighty percent. I, twenty. Yet, with my support, you will hold power greater than that. I will announce our partnership publicly at the upcoming ball. Your name will rise with mine." Rowan's silence carried weight as he considered, the temptation glimmering faintly in his eyes.
"I agre—" he began, but Duke cut him off, his finger snapping toward Ethan. "Wait. It depends on your son. If he accepts working for me, then the contract is sealed. If he refuses, there is no deal."
The air grew suffocating.
Daniel, who had remained quiet too long, burst out with fire. "You're basically forcing him!" His voice rang through the hall. Rowan's cold eyes turned to silence him, but Daniel did not shrink. He refused to look away, refused to betray Ethan now.
Duke chuckled, amused. "I like your spirit, kid. In fact, I'll extend the offer. You can work alongside Ethan. Both of you paid, both of you living here in luxury, free of worries."
Ethan's mind spun. His father's ambitions, Daniel's loyalty, and his own restless guilt pulled him in different directions. If he accepted, his father's power would grow. Daniel would be secured. But the invisible chains of Duke's control would snap around his neck. Duke leaned back, his smile like poison. "Looks like I've burdened your child, Rowan."
Something shifted in Ethan. He rose from his chair, the hesitation burning away. His eyes locked with Duke's, steady and unflinching. "I, Ethan Ashford, gladly accept your offer."
Duke's smirk widened. He clapped, summoning a servant. Papers and pens appeared on a silver tray. Duke slid one toward Ethan. "Sign here. This makes it official. You belong to me."
Ethan hesitated only for a heartbeat, then pressed the pen to paper. His name bled onto the contract like a seal of surrender.
Duke placed another before Rowan. "And this—"
Rowan interrupted, his voice steady. "The contract for the company. I know."
Duke laughed, his eyes gleaming. "Clever as always."
Both Ethan and Rowan signed. The ink dried like shackles, binding father and son to Duke's will. Silence followed, thick and heavy. Duke reclined in victory. Rowan's eyes gleamed with calculation. And Ethan sat still, the storm inside him roaring louder than ever. Duke's laughter echoed through the chamber, sharp and triumphant. "You both can go now. I've prepared personal rooms for the three of you. But Rowan, stay. I'd like to discuss the company further." His smile lingered like a blade hidden in velvet. Rowan gave a silent nod, unbothered, while Ethan and Daniel exchanged a glance that carried more weight than words.
At a snap of Duke's fingers, the servants moved in. "Take them to their rooms," he ordered. Just as Ethan and Daniel turned to leave, Duke's voice cut across the room again. "Oh yes… one more thing. In your chambers, you'll find clothes for tonight's ball. Choose whatever you like. After all, you'll be staying here now, and working under me. It's only proper that I provide." He smirked, his eyes glinting with the knowledge that Ethan's acceptance had never been a doubt.
Ethan felt the truth sink like a stone in his stomach. Duke had orchestrated everything, as if he had read Ethan's decision before he even made it. He gave the faintest nod. Daniel, uneasy, mirrored the gesture. Together, they followed the servants out.
The hallway was vast and quiet, lit by golden lamps fixed into carved pillars. The polished marble floor reflected their steps. Finally, the servants stopped before two doors facing each other. "These are your rooms," one said with perfect formality. "If you need anything, ring the bell. One of us will arrive immediately. Enjoy your stay." With a bow, they withdrew.
Daniel turned to Ethan before closing his door. His voice was firm, yet heavy with concern. "You didn't have to force yourself into this offer."
Ethan stayed silent, his gaze fixed some where beyond Daniel, lost in the storm of his thoughts. Daniel waited a moment, then sighed. "Don't think about it too much. You did what you had to." He slipped into his room, leaving Ethan standing alone in the quiet corridor.
When Ethan finally pushed open his own door, he was struck by the grandeur. The chamber was vast, decorated with delicate carvings on the ceiling that told stories in gold and white. A painting of serene beauty hung above the bed, its frame glistening under the chandelier's glow. The bed itself looked softer than clouds, draped with silk covers. A balcony opened to the night air, promising a view of the sprawling gardens below.
Everything was perfect. Too perfect.
His eyes fell on the suit stand near the corner, where elegant suits hung neatly pressed, waiting for him. Black, navy, ivory—each tailored, each whispering of wealth and status. Tonight's ball would dress him like a man of power, though inside, he still felt the heavy chains of choice.
Ethan ran his fingers lightly over the fabric, the weight of his decision settling deeper with every heartbeat.