Chapter 18
TESSA
My apartment looks like a war zone.
Cardboard boxes are everywhere. I took a half-day after the argument in Ethan’s office. I claimed I needed to finalize the press kits remotely, but the truth is, the moment I got the PDF from Markus Vance, I couldn’t breathe in that building anymore.
So I came home, and I started manically packing my life into garbage bags. I raided the recycling bin out back for anything I could find.
I am not leaving Austin today. I promised I would finish the launch on Saturday. But the moment the clock strikes midnight, I need to be ready to run.
My clothes are bagged. My books are in stacks.
Barnaby sits on top of the highest box, judging me.
“I know,” I tell the cat, wiping sweat from my forehead. “It’s undignified. But we have to go.”
I can’t stay here. Not with the memories. Not with Asher’s scent still on my sheets.
I signed the Nebula offer an hour ago.
Markus sent a same-day expedited wire. The money is in my account.
I initiated the wire transfer to Ethan’s corporate account instantly. I sent the email to Ethan five minutes ago. No text, not even an explanation.
Nothing.
Except the receipt of the transfer and a two-word message: Debt paid.
I feel… empty.
I thought I would feel triumphant. I beat him. I beat the CEO at his own game.
But all I feel is a hollow ache in my chest that feels suspiciously like heartbreak.
I tape up a box of kitchen supplies.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
I freeze.
It’s three sharp raps. But they aren’t the usual confident demand. They sound urgent. Heavy knocks.
My heart leaps into my throat.
“Go away!” I yell at the door, panic spiking. “I don’t want company!”
“Open the door, Tessa,” Ethan’s voice comes through the door. It’s not his CEO voice. It’s low, rough, and strained.
“I transferred the money!” I shout back, grabbing a pair of scissors from the table like a weapon. “We’re done! You can’t sue me!”
“We aren’t here to sue you,” Owen’s voice says. “We’re here because we’re losing our minds. Open the door.”
“I don’t want to talk!”
“Open the door,” Asher says. “Or I’ll pick the lock. It is a standard Kwikset deadbolt. It will take me approximately twelve seconds.”
I stare at the door.
They’re all there. All three of them.
If I open that door, I lose. If I open that door, I crumble.
“Go away!” I scream, tears pricking my eyes. “Just leave me alone! You won, okay? You pushed me out! Just let me go!”
Silence from the hallway.
Then, Ethan speaks. His voice is closer, like he’s leaning his forehead against the wood.
“We don’t want to win,” he says softly.
The lock clicks.
I gasp.
Asher wasn’t bluffing.
The doorknob turns. The door swings open.
And the Phantom Trio walks in.
They fill the small entryway. They are wearing suits, but they don’t look like the untouchable executives who run the city.
They look wrecked.
Ethan’s tie is undone. Owen looks like he hasn’t slept in days. Asher is vibrating with tension that makes the air crackle.
Ethan locks the door behind them.
The sound of the deadbolt sliding home echoes in the apartment.
I back up until my legs hit the coffee table. I hold the scissors out in front of me.
“Don’t come any closer,” I warn them, though my voice shakes.
Ethan looks at the scissors. He looks at the boxes. He looks at my tear-stained face.
He takes a step forward. He looks like a man walking into a fire.
“Put the scissors down, Tessa,” he says gently.
“No. I’m leaving.”
“You aren’t going anywhere,” Owen says, stepping up beside Ethan.
“You can’t stop me!”
“We can,” Ethan says. “We reject your resignation.”
“I paid the debt!” I yell, gesturing to my laptop on the counter. “Check your email! You don’t own me anymore!”
“This isn’t about the debt,” Ethan says. He stops three feet away from me. He looks at me with an intensity that burns, stripping away all the walls we built. “This is about the fact that we can’t function without you.”
I stare at him. The fight slowly drains out of me, replaced by utter confusion. “I don’t understand.”
“We share everything, Tessa,” Ethan says, his voice dropping to a low, raw rumble. “That’s how we survive. We share the burden. We share the risks.”
Owen moves to my left. Asher moves to my right.
I am surrounded. Boxed in by the Bransons.
Ethan reaches out, his hand wrapping gently around mine, gently prying the scissors from my fingers and dropping them onto the table. His thumb strokes the pulse racing at my wrist.
He leans down until his mouth is inches from mine.
“And now,” he whispers, his voice thick with a desperate kind of hunger, “we’re going to share you.”