Chapter 18 Treason and Tech Support
Treason and Tech Support
Ethan looked like he’d lost a fight with a very expensive duvet. He was slouched on Sebastian’s townhouse sofa in sweats, hair a mess, holding a mug of coffee like it was both life support and a weapon.
“You know,” Sebastian said, sauntering in from the kitchen with a second mug, “most people who get dumped by their girlfriend and betrayed by their co-founder don’t end up looking like a tragic cologne ad.”
Ethan didn’t move. “I am actively mourning.”
“You’re actively dramatic.”
“I was betrayed.”
“You were in a startup. Betrayal is part of the pitch deck.”
Ethan finally turned his head. “Do you ever, like, care about anything?”
Sebastian handed him the second mug and dropped into the adjacent armchair.
“Of course I care. I care about espresso. Tailoring. Whether my hair does the thing I like in photos.” He paused, watching Ethan’s dejected posture.
“And occasionally, I care about my friends who spend all night digging through encrypted files to help me investigate my morally bankrupt fake father.”
Ethan’s eyes flickered up. “That’s… surprisingly honest.”
“Don’t get used to it.” Sebastian pulled out his phone, scrolling through something. “Which is why we’re getting out of here.”
“I don’t want to go out.”
“You’ve been wearing the same hoodie for three days.”
“It’s cashmere.”
“It’s sad.” Sebastian stood up and pulled the coffee mug from Ethan’s hands. “Go shower. We’re leaving in an hour.”
Ethan groaned. “Where are we even going?”
“Somewhere your social media followers will be exceedingly jealous to see you. Something that says ‘I’m thriving,’ not ‘I’m writing regrettable texts while eating imported ice cream straight from the container.’”
“That was one time.”
“And it will remain one time because we’re going out.” Sebastian was already typing on his phone. “There’s that new exhibition downtown. Very exclusive preview. Then drinks at Luca’s new place—the one with the ridiculous ceiling installation everyone’s been posting about.”
Ethan narrowed his eyes. “How’d you even get invites to the exhibition? I heard it was impossible.”
Sebastian smiled thinly. “The curator owes me a favor because I helped him avoid an international incident involving a priceless sculpture and an overzealous cleaning staff.”
“You’re making that up.”
“Only partially.” Sebastian tossed a navy shirt at Ethan’s head. “Wear this. It makes your eyes look less like you’ve been crying.”
“I haven’t been—”
“Save it for someone who hasn’t seen your search history.” Sebastian’s voice softened almost imperceptibly. “Look, I need you functional. Not just for the Hawthorne thing, but because watching you mope is physically painful.”
Ethan sighed, finally standing. “Fine. But I’m not posting anything. I’m avoiding the socials so I don’t have to be subjected to all the drama.”
“Which is exactly why we need to show that you’ve moved on to better things,” Sebastian said. “The world needs to see that you’re out living your best life while Maya and Jordan are posting insufferable couples yoga photos from Bali for their ridiculous wellness startup.”
Ethan winced. “Did you have to mention both of them?”
“Yes,” Sebastian said firmly. “Because everyone knows co-founder couples who run ‘transformative wellness experiences’ have a shelf life shorter than unpasteurized kombucha. You’re clearly better off.”
“That’s oddly specific,” Ethan said, but there was the ghost of a smile at the corner of his mouth.
Sebastian checked his watch. “Fifty-six minutes. I’ll have a car waiting.”
Two hours later, they were wandering through the new interactive light installation, surrounded by the city’s art crowd and precisely the right number of celebrities to make the event buzzworthy without being obvious.
Sebastian watched as Ethan actually laughed at something the gallery director said. The tension in his shoulders had eased, and he was gesturing animatedly, that familiar spark of enthusiasm returning.
“This is actually amazing,” he admitted later. “There’s a room back there where the lights respond to your heartbeat. And I just met someone who is working on some new encryption tech that might be interesting.”
Sebastian grinned. “See? Told you. Ready for the next stop? Luca’s opening his rooftop bar for a private thing.”
“I guess I really did need to get out,” Ethan said, but he was smiling now—a real smile, not the tight grimace he’d been wearing for days.
Sebastian clapped him on the shoulder. “See? Now, let me take one proper photo for your Instagram. Something that screams ‘thriving’ not ‘therapy-bound.’”
Ethan rolled his eyes but posed against the light installation. “You know, most people’s friends just tell them to get drunk and rebound.”
“Most people’s exes don’t run off to Bali with their co-founder,” Sebastian replied, adjusting the angle. “This situation requires a more sophisticated response than drunk texting.”
Ethan groaned. “I hate when you’re right.”
“I know.” Sebastian steered him toward the exit. “Now, let’s go be seen at the place everyone wants to be, while my father’s minions continue to believe I’m nothing but a frivolous party boy.”
“The perfect cover,” Ethan said with newfound determination.
“Exactly.” Sebastian flagged down their waiting car. “Beautiful distractions—they never see the knife until it’s too late.”
* * *
Luca’s new place was exactly what Sebastian had promised—exclusive without trying, the kind of venue that didn’t need to advertise because the right people already knew.
The rooftop bar floated above the city like a secret, all glass walls and subtle lighting that made everyone look airbrushed.
The ceiling installation—thousands of suspended crystal prisms that caught and refracted the light—created the illusion of standing beneath an otherworldly sky.
“I’m going to find Luca,” Sebastian said, scanning the crowd of beautiful people nursing even more beautiful cocktails. “Get a drink. Try not to look too emotionally damaged.”
Ethan rolled his eyes but made his way to the bar.
He was ordering when he felt it—that prickle along his spine that meant someone was watching him.
Not the casual glances he’d gotten used to as Sebastian’s friend or as a moderately successful tech founder, but the kind of focused attention that made the air feel different.
He turned, drink in hand, and that’s when he saw her.
Jules Durand-Rossi stood near the edge of the terrace, drink in hand, lips curved in a knowing smirk. Dressed in a gold silk, she looked like a woman who had never once regretted setting something on fire—socially or otherwise.
He recognized her before she moved. But it wasn’t until she began walking toward him, unhurried and certain, that he remembered exactly where they’d met.
Capri. Two summers ago. Sebastian’s birthday. A chessboard by the pool, a bottle of limoncello, a challenge that had started friendly and turned quietly vicious in ten moves.
And back then… Maya had been beside him. Laughing. Pressing a hand to his chest every time Jules made a comment that hovered anywhere near flirty. He remembered how clearly Jules had clocked everything and then graciously stepped away.
Now she was stepping forward.
And he wasn’t entirely sure how to react.
“Ethan Klein,” she said as she reached him, her voice warm. “You’ve recovered nicely.”
He managed a smirk. “You’re assuming I recovered.”
Jules tilted her head, her eyes scanning his face with casual confidence. “Emotionally bruised. Slightly under-slept. Still ridiculously handsome. I’d say you’re well into the rebound phase.”
“I didn’t think you’d remember me,” Ethan said, stalling for time.
“I remember most people who beat me at chess,” she replied. “Especially when they do it while pretending not to flirt.”
“I was very much not flirting,” Ethan said quickly.
Jules smiled like she didn’t believe him. “Because of Maya. I know.”
“Well that and because Sebastian’s my friend,” he replied.
“Sebastian and I were only married for 16-hours in an attempt to help me get early access to my trust fund,” Jules said. “It’s just a funny story we tell at parties and tease each other about. I promise he doesn’t care.”
Jules leaned in just a little—enough to blur personal space, not enough to break it. “Besides,” she said, voice lower now, “you were interesting even then. All buttoned-up and loyal. You made loyalty look almost… sexy.”
“And now?”
She met his gaze, calm and direct. “Now, you’re not taken. And I hear your ex is doing sunrise mantras in Bali with your former business partner.”
Ethan winced. “Bad news travels fast.”
“I may have some interests in competing wellness ventures,” she said with a mischievous smile.
From across the rooftop, Ethan caught sight of Sebastian watching them, a knowing smile playing at his lips. Sebastian raised his glass slightly in acknowledgment before turning back to his conversation with Luca.
Ethan paused, running a hand over the back of his neck. “This is probably a terrible idea.”
“Probably,” Jules agreed. “But I’ve never let that stop me.”
Her hand brushed his as she took the drink from his hand and sipped it. Just a whisper of contact, light and deliberate.
He didn’t move.
“Sebastian brought you here to be seen,” she observed. “To show the world—and Maya—that you’re doing just fine.”
“Wow, is it that obvious?” He said with a sigh.
“Transparent,” Jules confirmed. “But effective. Want to make it even more effective?”
Ethan raised an eyebrow, “More effective, how?” he asked.
Jules smiled, slow and wicked. “Follow me.”
She guided him toward the best-lit section of the terrace, where the crystal installation above cast prismatic light patterns across their faces. She positioned them perfectly—visible from every angle, caught in what looked like magical lighting.
“Smile,” she murmured. “You’re about to break Instagram.”