Lena's legs felt like jelly beneath her, yet she walked—no, stormed—away with more resolve than she had ever mustered. Her face burned with fresh tears that wouldn't stop falling, not just from pain, but from betrayal, disbelief, and the nauseating ache that comes when someone you trusted becomes unrecognizable in the blink of an eye.
Behind her, Ethan stood frozen. Like stone. Like regret itself had gripped his body and paralyzed it.
"Lena..." he breathed, his voice barely audible over the sharp night air. "It's not true. Believe me."
His words came late. Too late.
Lena halted for a second—not enough to give him hope, just enough for him to see the agony in her eyes as she turned and met his gaze one last time. It was the look of someone who had loved deeply but now saw a stranger in place of the man she once trusted.
Then she turned again, opened her car door, and slid in without hesitation.
Ethan tried to follow, cautiously, not wanting to attract attention to the tension unraveling so publicly. But she didn't even glance at him. With a quick twist of her wrist, she ignited the engine, pulled out, and vanished down the street, her taillights fading into the night.
He stood still, fists clenched, as the air around him turned suffocating.
He didn't chase her.
Not because he didn't want to—but because he couldn't. Not like this. He couldn't risk humiliating her further, couldn't make a scene, couldn't be the man people whispered about in boardrooms and back alleys.
Instead, he gave a subtle signal to one of his bodyguards. Follow her. Discreetly. Keep me updated.
Then he walked back inside, numb.
---
At home, the silence was heavier than usual.
The house no longer felt like a fortress—it felt like a trap. A museum of decisions and mistakes. Every corner whispered Lena's name. Her laugh still echoed faintly in his memory, like a ghost haunting his reality.
He went straight to his office. The place where he made his worst decisions. The place where he once signed a contract to fake a marriage and accidentally fell into something real.
He sank into his chair, leaned forward, and buried his head in his arms.
And cried.
Tears didn't come easily to Ethan O'Martin. But now, they flowed freely, silently, and endlessly.
His phone vibrated nonstop. Calls from the legal team. News alerts. The press had gotten wind of the case again—his mother's death being investigated, some old enemy stirring the waters. The timing couldn't have been worse.
But none of it mattered. Not the law. Not the money. Not even his reputation.
Only one thing mattered: Lena.
Where was she?
Why hadn't he heard anything?
Was she driving in that state?
Had she pulled over?
Had she crashed?
The silence from his bodyguard chilled him. Minutes ticked by like hours.
Another call. This time, Christian.
"I'm on my way," Christian said before Ethan could even speak.
---
Christian arrived in record time, finding Ethan pacing the room like a man possessed.
"I messed it all up," Ethan said hoarsely. "She's gone."
"She's hurt," Christian replied. "Give her space."
"No, you didn't see her face," Ethan whispered. "She looked at me like I was the monster under her bed."
Christian didn't know what to say.
"I love her," Ethan said, voice cracking. "And I think I lost her for good."
Christian sat down, stunned. He had seen Ethan in board meetings where millions were on the line and Ethan didn't flinch. But here he was—broken, fragile, haunted.
"She'll come back. Just give her time."
"You don't know that," Ethan said, looking him dead in the eye. "You don't know her."
Christian hesitated. "But I know you. And if someone like you fell that hard, she felt it too."
Ethan sat back, defeated. "Check Audrey's hospital. She might've gone there."
Christian pulled out his phone and made the call.
A pause. Then: "She came by. Didn't go in. Just sat in the car. Left after a while."
That did something to Ethan. He sank deeper into the chair.
"She couldn't even bring herself to see her brother," he whispered.
He was unraveling.
---
By 9:00 p.m., the silence was deafening.
No messages. No return calls. Not even from Clara.
Where the hell was she?
Ethan no longer feared Lena leaving him.
Now he feared something far worse—something happening to her.
"She's gone," he murmured. "What if she took George's deal and fled the country?"
"She wouldn't," Christian replied. "You really think she would run like that?"
"I think I broke something in her I can't fix."
More time passed. Every second a dagger.
Ethan stared at his phone like it was a lifeline. "If she never comes back, I'll dissolve the contract. Give her everything. Even if she chose George, she doesn't deserve this pain."
He wasn't thinking of business anymore. Or reputation. Just of her. Her smile. Her voice. The way she looked at him—used to look at him.
Christian eventually suggested, "Should we file a missing person report? Or inform her brother?"
Before Ethan could reply—
Ping.
A message lit up his screen.
> Sir, we've found her.
---
✦ My Thoughts:
This chapter is incredibly strong in emotional depth, but with this version, the stakes feel real and painful. The slow unraveling of Ethan's controlled persona, his raw panic, and the heavy guilt give this chapter so much psychological weight.
What makes this version stronger:
Ethan is not cold here. He's vulnerable in a way readers want to see in a slow-burn romance. This is the chapter where the reader starts rooting for him hard.
The tension builds subtly—first with Lena's cold departure, then with the lack of updates, then Ethan's growing spiral, until the final breath: "We've found her."
It shows character growth—Ethan no longer cares about the contract or money, only about her.