48 - Unfinished Past
Scarlett pushed open the door to Ethan's office, a soft knock forgotten on her lips before it could even land.
The click of the door echoed like a verdict through the high-ceilinged space, stark against the hush of brushed concrete and glass.
She paused at the threshold, her breath catching in her throat.
There they stood—Ethan and Catherine—too close, too still.
The space between them wasn't just narrow; it was intimate, heavy with something unsaid.
Catherine's hand rested lightly on the edge of Ethan's desk, her body angled toward him, lips slightly parted in that amused, conspiratorial way Scarlett had seen too many times.
Ethan leaned just slightly in, his expression unreadable, but the stillness in his frame screamed awareness.
Scarlett's heart dropped. For a second too long, her body froze, caught in the tension, her brain unwilling to process what her eyes had already confirmed.
"I—I'm sorry for disturbing you," she stammered, the words barely audible.
Ethan turned at the sound of her voice, startled—but not enough. Not enough to pull away.
She didn't wait. She pivoted on her heel, the door clicking shut behind her, the quiet final in a way that echoed inside her chest. Her heels struck the corridor floor like punctuation, each step an exclamation of shame and fury.
Why did I come here? The thought shot through her like lightning, hot and regretful. I shouldn't have barged in. Should've waited. Should've knocked harder. Should've—
But another voice, quieter and crueler, coiled through her mind: He's the one who broke the boundaries. He should've known better.
And yet, the image—Ethan, his gaze fixed on Catherine, his stillness not of guilt but attention—clung to her like smoke.
She waited. Five minutes. Ten. Fifteen.
Ethan didn't come after her.
No footsteps echoing down the hall. No call of her name. Not even a text.
He didn't come.
Later, across the room where shadows softened the edges of sleek furniture and curated décor, Catherine watched Ethan with practiced nonchalance. But her mind was anything but still.
Scarlett's sudden appearance, Ethan's indifference—that unsettled her. A man in love might've rushed after her. A man in denial would've at least looked concerned. But Ethan? He'd merely returned to their conversation with a calm too smooth to be natural.
If there's truly nothing between them, Catherine thought darkly, then why is he pretending so hard not to care?
The thought festered like rot, feeding on silence.
The scent of freshly brewed coffee guided Scarlett to the dining hall where Ethan sat at the head of the impossibly long oak table.
He cut a sharp figure in his tailored charcoal suit, not a thread out of place.
His dark hair was perfectly styled, and his jawline seemed etched from stone as he scrolled through his phone.
The morning light caught the platinum of his watch—a casual display of wealth that matched everything else in this mausoleum they called home.
Ethan's eyes flickered upward as she entered, dark and unreadable. For a fleeting moment, something passed between them—tension, recognition, perhaps even guilt—before his expression settled back into practiced neutrality.
"Good morning," Scarlett said, her voice carrying across the space between them with practiced ease. She reached for a piece of toast from the silver serving tray, her movements deliberate and unhurried.
Ethan nodded, a barely perceptible acknowledgment. "Morning."
Scarlett buttered her toast with precision, gathering her thoughts before speaking again. "Ethan, I hope you haven't forgotten my condition," she said, her tone conversational despite the weight of her words.
He arched one perfect eyebrow, setting his coffee cup down with a soft clink against fine china. "What condition?"
The corner of Scarlett's mouth twitched—he knew exactly what she meant. She set her toast down on the Limoges plate and met his gaze directly. "I told you, right? My team works with me."
"Yes." The word hung between them, noncommittal.
Scarlett leaned forward slightly, her emerald pendant catching the light. "So, I'm hiring Linda. She'll be joining my team."
A slow, mocking smirk spread across Ethan's face, transforming his features from merely handsome to dangerously charismatic. "I thought you had a team of a hundred members."
The barb found its mark. Scarlett's fingers tensed around her toast before she deliberately relaxed them, setting the bread back on her plate. A flash of hot indignation colored her cheeks before she mastered herself.
"Even if it's just one person," she said, her voice lower now, intensity threading through each word, "the business was started by me, Ethan. You can't understand the joy of building something from the ground up, something that actually means to you."
The smirk faded from his lips, replaced by something more complex—perhaps recognition, perhaps respect. His dark eyes held hers for one heartbeat, two, before he exhaled, setting his cup down with finality.
"Whatever," he said, the casualness of the word at odds with the tension between them. "You can ask her to join anytime. I'll have the team take care of the formalities."
A small victory. Scarlett inclined her head, satisfaction curling through her chest. She rose from her chair, gathering her belongings, when she noticed Ethan still seated, apparently in no hurry. He glanced at his expensive watch but made no move to stand.
"Aren't you going to the office?" she asked, genuine curiosity breaking through her careful fa?ade.
Ethan leaned back in his chair, long fingers tapping against the polished wood. "I'll leave in a bit."
"Okay." Scarlett shrugged, adjusting the strap of her designer bag over her shoulder. "I'm heading out now."
That caught his attention. Something shifted in his expression—surprise, perhaps even displeasure. "Why are you leaving so early?"
"I'm meeting Linda," she replied, checking her own watch. "We'll head to work together."
Ethan exhaled, a barely audible sigh that spoke volumes. He said nothing more, just watched as Scarlett moved toward the door, humming softly to herself. There was a lightness to her step that hadn't been there when she entered.
Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, Ethan observed her approach the waiting town car.
The driver—a man who rarely smiled for Ethan—brightened visibly at her approach.
She said something that made him chuckle, his weathered face creasing with genuine amusement.
The early morning light bathed the scene in a gentle glow, turning Scarlett's auburn hair to fire.
Ethan's eyes narrowed slightly as he watched. Her ease with people never failed to catch him off guard. Where he commanded respect through power and intimidation, she earned loyalty through warmth and genuine connection. It was a different kind of strength—one he'd never fully understood.
The car pulled away from the circular driveway, disappearing down the tree-lined avenue. Ethan stood abruptly, grabbing his tailored coat with a sharp, decisive movement.
The scent of fresh coffee and cinnamon greeted Scarlett as Linda opened the door to her apartment. Still dressed in a faded university sweatshirt with her dark hair piled messily atop her head, Linda clutched a steaming mug and blinked in surprise.
"You're early," she said, stepping back to let Scarlett in. The apartment was modest but cozy—framed photographs crowded the walls, mismatched furniture arranged with an artist's eye for comfort rather than show.
Scarlett couldn't contain the smile that spread across her face, excitement bubbling up inside her. "You're officially hired," she announced, watching Linda's expression transform. "You start today."
Linda's eyes widened, her coffee sloshing dangerously close to the rim of her mug.
"Wait, seriously?! That's amazing!" The mug was hastily set aside as she threw her arms around Scarlett in a tight embrace that smelled of vanilla and sleep-warmth.
When she pulled back, her eyes danced with mischief.
"But wait—how's it been, working with your dear husband?
" She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.
The question punctured Scarlett's bubble of happiness. She scoffed, her smile slipping like water through fingers. "I hate it."
Linda's teasing expression vanished instantly, replaced by concern. She took Scarlett's hand and pulled her to the worn leather sofa. "Scarlett...what happened?"
Scarlett sank into the cushions, suddenly exhausted despite the early hour. She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Catherine happened."
Linda's entire demeanor changed—her posture stiffened, her eyes hardened. "Catherine? What about her?"
Taking a deep breath that did little to calm the swirling emotions inside her, Scarlett recounted the previous night.
Her voice remained steady even as she described turning the corner to find Ethan and Catherine standing too close, Catherine's manicured hand resting on Ethan's arm, the intimate tilt of her head as she looked up at him.
She explained how she'd retreated unseen, how the image had burned into her mind despite her best efforts to dismiss it.
"And the worst part is," Scarlett concluded, staring at the frayed edge of a throw pillow, "I shouldn't even care. This marriage is a business arrangement. Nothing more."
Linda's dark eyes studied her carefully. "Scarlett, you should've asked him about it."
"And let him know it bothered me?" Scarlett laughed, the sound brittle. "No way. That would imply I care."
"Maybe you do," Linda said softly.
Scarlett shot her a warning look. "Don't."
Linda pursed her lips, clearly unconvinced, but raised her hands in surrender. "Fine, fine. Let me get dressed, and we can go rain on Catherine's parade together."