Lena made up her mind. She would return to Ethan—not because everything was perfect, but because not knowing the full truth was worse than whatever pain it might bring. She needed clarity, and with her final exams around the corner, her mind had to be at peace if she was going to succeed.
She packed up her things from the hotel room slowly, replaying Christian's words over and over. He's hurting more than you know... George went too far... Vivian is involved... The weight of it all sat heavily on her chest.
Back at the mansion, Ethan stood in the hallway like a man on the edge. His jaw was tight, arms crossed, eyes glued to the main door like he expected a ghost to walk in.
The sound of Christian's car pulling into the driveway had him stiffening. The moment Christian stepped inside, Ethan's voice lashed out.
"Where the fuck have you been?"
Christian, startled but steady, raised his hands slightly. "What happened?"
Ethan's voice trembled with controlled fury. "I just got a call. The media. They know. About the accident."
Christian blinked. "What? But the marriage—"
"Not the marriage—yet. But it's only a matter of time," Ethan snapped, pacing. "They've moved the two-month grace. If they gather enough evidence, they'll come knocking with handcuffs."
Christian's mouth dropped open. "That fast? But how did it—?"
Ethan rounded on him. "Where have you been? No calls. No message. Nothing. Are you working with them too now? Should I not trust even my own friend?"
Christian frowned. "Don't say that."
"Then where the hell did you go?"
Christian hesitated. "I went to see Lena."
Ethan's eyes flared with disbelief. "You what? I told you we're giving her time! Why would you—" He stopped himself, laughing bitterly. "God. Of course. Because I have no idea how to fix this. And now you're the middleman?"
"I didn't go there to take your place," Christian said calmly. "I went because you're falling apart and pretending you aren't. I didn't tell her lies. I didn't beg her to come back. I just reminded her you're not the monster she's imagining right now."
Ethan's voice dropped low, pained. "You think I don't know I failed her? That I'm the one who made this mess? I should have told her everything. From the start. I should have protected her, not pulled her into a storm she didn't sign up for."
His voice cracked at the end. He turned away, rubbing his face.
Christian stepped forward. "I didn't go behind your back to hurt you. I went because you needed someone to pull you out before you drown."
Ethan shook his head slowly. "And did she say she's coming?"
Christian nodded once. "Eventually."
Just then, the sound of a car pulling into the driveway made both men fall silent.
Footsteps.
Lena stepped through the front door.
Her presence was like a sudden drop in air pressure—heavy, expectant, electric.
Ethan's breath caught. Christian took a step back. "I'll give you two space."
The hallway was dead quiet as Ethan and Lena locked eyes for the first time since everything exploded.
"Hey," Ethan said softly, his voice barely a whisper.
"Hey," Lena replied, equally soft, but her eyes were steady.
"I think," she began, "we should talk."
She didn't wait for his response. She turned and led the way into the study room. Ethan followed.
They sat opposite each other, surrounded by walls that had heard secrets more damning than theirs.
No words at first. Just the hum of tension thick in the air.
And the
The silence between them stretched longer than it should have. The kind of silence that thickens the air, makes the heart beat louder, and forces old wounds to stir.
They stared at each other—searching, questioning, remembering.
And then Lena spoke, her voice quiet but strong.
"I've given this a lot of thought," she began, her eyes not leaving his, "and… yes, you were right. You said I shouldn't believe everything I see or hear, and I didn't want to admit it before, but… most of what I know about you is what I've read or heard from others."
She swallowed back the knot rising in her throat.
"So… as your girlfriend—no, as someone you said you loved—I think I deserve to hear it. From you. Not George. Not the media. Not your enemies. Just you."
Ethan's lips parted slightly as if to speak, but no words came. His throat moved, his jaw clenched.
"Lena…" he said, his voice husky.
"Forget what George said. Pretend like I didn't hear any of it," she interrupted softly, her voice wavering. "Just… tell me the truth. The whole truth. Can I hear it from you?"
Her eyes glistened with tears she was determined not to shed too early.
Ethan bowed his head, breathing in deeply like he needed strength just to speak. When he raised his eyes again, they were tired. Not just physically—but soul-deep tired. The kind that came from years of silence.
"I never wanted to hurt you," he said slowly. "Or anyone. I promise you that. And yes… you deserve to hear the truth from me."
Lena nodded silently, her face open and vulnerable.
Ethan gave a faint, bitter laugh. "This… I've never said this out loud. Not fully. Not like this. Only my therapist—my old one—and my father ever heard the full story."
He paused, gathering himself. "Yes. My mom died in an accident. And yes… I was the one driving the car."
Lena's breath caught, but she didn't flinch.
"I lost time that night. One moment I was with her, the next… I woke up in a hospital bed. I'd been unconscious for weeks. The doctors weren't even sure I'd survive. They said I was lucky."
He gave a humorless smile. "I didn't feel lucky."
Ethan stared past her now, into a space that wasn't really there.
"To this day, I can't remember what led to that drive. Why she and I were out so late. What we talked about. If we fought. If we cried. Nothing. It's just… gone. But what wasn't gone was the blood test."
He exhaled sharply.
"They found drugs in my system. But I've never touched anything in my life. Not then. Not ever. I was clean. But somehow… it was there. And my mom… she died at the scene."
Lena pressed a hand to her mouth, stifling a sob. Ethan looked down.
"My dad… he shut everything down. The press. The investigation. The whispers. He pulled whatever strings he had left and erased it from the public's eye. He didn't let me ask questions. And I was never allowed to answer any. I didn't even get to attend my mother's funeral. I didn't get to say goodbye."
He swallowed, struggling.
"All I had was silence. And guilt. And confusion. At nineteen, I didn't even know how to grieve. I just knew how to pretend I was okay."
Lena's tears spilled freely now. But she waited, needing to hear all of it.
"My dad," Ethan said softer, "he never looked at me like a murderer. Never like an addict. But I saw him fade. Day by day. He was never the same. And neither was I."
Ethan looked up again, and his voice broke as he whispered, "That's the truth I live with."
Lena stood up slowly, walked to him, and dropped to her knees in front of where he sat. She placed her hands over his.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered. "You shouldn't have carried this alone."
Ethan pulled her up gently and sat her beside him. His arm wrapped around her shoulders as she leaned into him, both of them shaking under the weight of years that never healed properly.
"But Lena…" he said again, quieter now, "this is why I need you to go. It's getting worse. The media's circling. George isn't stopping. And if they find something—anything—this all comes crashing down. I don't want you in the middle of that."
"I already am," she said through her tears.
"I'll talk to my lawyer," he said. "I'll make sure you're compensated. You and Audrey—take what you need and leave the country for a while. Stay safe. Please."
Lena pulled back, eyes wide with disbelief. "Are you trying to pay me to leave you?"
"No. I'm trying to protect you," he said, painfully sincere.
"What kind of girlfriend walks away when things get hard?" she demanded, wiping her eyes.
"The kind who understands," he whispered.
"No," Lena snapped, her voice cracking. "The kind who's selfish. The kind who only loved you when things were easy. But that's not me, Ethan."
She stood and looked him dead in the eyes. "I'm staying. We'll get through this. Together. I'll write my final exams with you watching my back. You'll get through this, and I'll be there. I'm not going anywhere."
Ethan looked like he wanted to argue—but then his face crumbled.
He reached for her.
She stepped into his arms, and they held each other like everything depended on it. Because it did.
And in that long, trembling hug, something shifted.
Hope returned.
And they refused to let go.