Lena sat on the edge of the bed, sunlight crawling in through the sheer curtains, her phone trembling in her hand.
Message after message. Voicemail after voicemail.
She'd been ignoring them all morning—afraid to listen, afraid to feel. But one voice message, the most recent one, had slipped through her defenses.
> "Hey babe, if I'm still allowed to call you that… Just checking up on you. Talk to me if you can. I could need some comfort. Take care. Love you."
Her throat clenched.
The pause before he said "comfort"—that soft break in his voice—had sounded so human, so raw. Ethan never let his pain show. Never. But this? This was desperation. Vulnerability wrapped in quiet, heartbreaking honesty.
Was she being too harsh?
She hadn't given him a chance to speak, to explain, to defend himself. The moment George dropped the news, she bolted. She couldn't handle the betrayal, the idea that Ethan had kept something so big from her. But was it really betrayal, or just her wounded heart grasping for blame?
She didn't know.
All she remembered was driving for hours in the city's quiet chaos, crying so hard her vision blurred. She parked near the hospital where Auds was recovering, but couldn't go inside. She couldn't bear more disappointment. So she sat with a group of elderly strangers gathered at the park's edge—lively retirees playing checkers and feeding pigeons. One woman, maybe in her seventies, noticed her shivering and red-eyed.
Without a word, she opened her arms, and Lena, too exhausted to resist, collapsed into them and sobbed. The woman stroked her hair and whispered, "You'll get through this. Just breathe, sweetheart."
That single gesture held her together.
And then—without understanding why—she'd checked into Ethan's hotel. Maybe she wanted to be found. Maybe she wanted Ethan to choose her, to fight for her the way her heart still fought for him.
Because despite everything… she still loved him.
The knock at the door startled her.
She blinked, swallowing the lump in her throat, and opened it slowly.
Christian stood there with a breakfast tray and an unreadable expression. Her heart tensed. She hadn't expected him.
"Morning," he greeted gently.
"Morning," she replied warily, stepping aside.
He set the tray down without speaking, glancing around the room. "You holding up?"
She gave a weak shrug. "Trying."
Christian nodded. "Ethan thought you were asleep last night. We came by."
"I wasn't. Just… didn't want to talk."
"I get it." He turned toward her, voice careful. "Look, I'm not here to push anything. I'm here as a friend."
Her eyes narrowed. "Ethan didn't send you?"
"No. He has no idea I'm here."
That softened her posture, slightly.
"I'm not going to sugarcoat anything," Christian continued. "He's not okay. He's unraveling, Lena. You've seen how he gets when the world corners him."
She swallowed hard but stayed quiet.
"If someone doesn't reach him soon, he's going to shut everything down—emotionally, legally, professionally. Everything he's built could fall apart."
Her voice cracked. "Why would he even keep something like this from me?"
"Maybe he was trying to protect you. Or maybe…" Christian hesitated, "he was just scared. Of how you'd see him after."
Lena looked away, hugging her arms. "That doesn't make it right."
"No, it doesn't. But neither does leaving someone when they need you the most."
Silence.
"He asked for comfort, Lena. That's Ethan asking for help." Christian's voice trembled. "You know how rare that is?"
She wiped her face. "He said something about someone working against him… an ex?"
Christian's face darkened. "Yeah. Vivian."
"Vivian?" Her tone was sharp. "His Vivian?"
"The same. She's been feeding information to the people dragging him into this legal mess."
Her stomach dropped. "That'll break him."
"He doesn't know. I haven't told him yet. And if you care about him even a little, maybe don't be the one to deliver that blow."
She nodded slowly, dazed. "I… I don't even know what to think anymore."
Christian crouched a little to meet her gaze. "Just come home. Talk to him. You don't have to fix everything—but don't let him spiral alone."
She hesitated, the ache in her chest tightening. "How bad is he, really?"
Christian exhaled, voice low. "I've seen him after business collapses, after betrayals, after losing friends. I've never seen him like this."
That broke her. Tears pricked her eyes again.
"I lost my appetite," she mumbled.
"Lena…" Christian's voice was quieter now, like a plea. "He needs someone to fight for him, even when he's too broken to ask."
She nodded.
Christian stood, sensing it was time. "So… you'll come?"
"I'll come. Just… not yet. I need to clear my head."
He gave her a look of relief. "Alright. I'll go ahead then."
He walked to the door, then paused, turning back.
"Whatever happens next… don't let silence win."
Then he left.
And Lena was alone again—with her thoughts, her pain… and the decision only she could make.
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