104 - Empire vs. Love
The private lounge smelled faintly of cigars and something sharper beneath it—money, maybe. Or ambition.
Catherine leaned back in the velvet chair like she owned the room, one leg crossed over the other, a glass of red wine balanced lightly between her fingers. The lamplight caught the rim of the glass as she tilted it.
Across from her, Andrian sat a little straighter than usual, his elbow on the table, fingers tapping once... twice... then stopping when he noticed her watching.
"You did well," Catherine said after a moment.
Her voice was calm, almost lazy.
"Ethan is trapped in Italy. And Scarlett..." Her lips curved slowly. "She's wobbling."
Andrian frowned.
"She's not easy to break."
Catherine didn't respond right away. She took a slow sip instead, letting the silence stretch until it started to feel intentional.
"I gave her space today," Andrian continued, shifting in his chair. "Thought it might work better if I didn't push too hard."
"And?"
"She's still clinging to him." His mouth twisted slightly. "She believes Ethan will love her."
Catherine laughed softly.
Not loud. Just enough.
"Belief is fragile, darling."
She set the wine glass down and reached for the folder beside her. The sound of paper sliding across polished wood seemed strangely loud in the quiet room.
"All it takes is pressure," she continued. "Doubt is a seed." Her manicured finger tapped the contract once before pushing it toward him. "And I already planted it."
Andrian stared at the document.
He didn't touch it.
"We'll water it together," Catherine finished.
For a moment neither of them spoke.
Andrian's jaw shifted slightly as he looked down at the paper. His reflection wavered faintly in the glossy surface of the table.
He wanted Scarlett. That part had always been simple.
But the image of her face earlier that day—tired, stubborn, still defending Ethan—slid into his thoughts again.
Watching her unravel wasn't supposed to feel like this.
"She'll hate me if she finds out I was involved," he said quietly.
Catherine raised one brow.
"Oh, she will," she said lightly. "But by then she won't matter."
Something about her tone made his fingers curl against the table.
He hated the smugness in her voice.
He hated how confident she sounded.
And he hated, most of all, that her plan made sense.
—
Scarlett hadn't slept.
At some point she'd turned off the lamp, but the darkness hadn't helped. The sheets were twisted around her legs and the room felt too warm, like the air wasn't moving properly.
Her phone rested against her chest.
Catherine's voice kept replaying in her head.
For Ethan, you are business.
Scarlett squeezed her eyes shut and pressed the heels of her palms against them until faint stars flickered behind her eyelids.
She wanted Ethan.
Just his voice would help. Even a short message. Something ordinary.
Something that sounded like him.
The phone buzzed suddenly in her hand.
Her eyes flew open.
She fumbled with the screen so fast she almost dropped it.
"Ethan," she breathed as she answered.
For a second there was nothing but faint static.
Then his voice came through.
"Scarlett."
It was low. Rougher than usual.
Something in her chest loosened immediately.
"Finally you called," she said, trying to sound normal. It didn't work very well.
"I should've called sooner."
She heard him exhale sharply, like he'd run a hand through his hair.
"I hate this," he muttered. "I hate being away from you."
Her throat tightened so fast it almost hurt.
"Then come back," she wanted to say.
The words reached the edge of her lips... and stopped there.
"I will," he continued quietly. "Soon."
There was a brief pause.
"But... Scarlett, listen—"
Her breath caught.
Her heart started pounding hard enough that she had to sit up in the bed.
Something in his voice had changed. Softer. Almost uncertain.
Was he—
Voices burst in the background.
"Mr. Blackwood, the board is waiting—"
"Not now," Ethan snapped.
More voices layered over each other.
"Sir, they're going to cease everything—"
Scarlett could hear movement, the dull echo of footsteps.
"Scarlett," he said quickly, almost urgently. "I... need to go."
"I—"
The line went dead.
The silence afterward felt abrupt.
Scarlett stared at the phone for a long time.
Her thumb hovered over the screen like she might call him back.
She didn't.
Instead she slowly lay back against the pillow, holding the phone against her chest again.
If he'd stayed a few seconds longer...
If she'd just told him what Catherine was doing...
But those seconds were gone.
And neither of them knew yet what they'd cost.
—
Across the sea, Ethan sat at the long conference table in a crowded boardroom.
Charts glowed on the screen. Someone was explaining projections.
He wasn't listening.
Scarlett's voice still echoed in his head.
Fragile. A little unsteady.
His fingers tightened under the table.
Hold on, he thought.
Just hold on.
—
Scarlett curled on her side later that night, staring at the dim outline of her ceiling.
"I'll wait," she whispered into the darkness.
Across the city, Catherine raised another glass of wine.
"She won't last until he comes back," she said calmly.
—
The next evening the house felt strangely quiet.
Scarlett sat at her vanity with the contract spread in front of her.
The desk lamp cast a pale circle of light across the paper. Every line of black print seemed harsher under it.
She traced the edge of the page with her fingertip.
The paper was thicker than normal.
Expensive.
For Ethan, you are business.
Her nails pressed slightly into the corner of the sheet.
A small part of her wanted to tear it apart.
But another voice whispered in her head.
If he loved you... would he really keep you in the dark?
Her phone rang.
The name on the screen made her stomach drop.
Catherine.
Scarlett stared at it for two rings... three... then answered.
"Hello?"
"What did you decide?" Catherine asked pleasantly.
Scarlett didn't reply.
On the other end Catherine sighed softly.
"Looks like you haven't decided yet."
A pause.
"Then I suppose I don't have another option. Tomorrow the media will know everything."
Scarlett's hand tightened around the phone.
"No... don't do that, Catherine."
Silence stretched.
Then Scarlett forced the words out.
"...Okay."
Her voice sounded thin even to herself.
"I'll leave him."
Catherine's response came immediately.
"Good girl."
Scarlett closed her eyes.
"Be ready tomorrow night," Catherine continued. "I'll arrange where you'll go."
The words hit her like cold water.
"Where I'll go?"
"You won't be staying here," Catherine said calmly.
Panic flickered in Scarlett's chest.
"At least let me see Ethan once," she said quickly. "Just once. Then I'll leave."
"No way."
The answer came without hesitation.
The line clicked off.
Scarlett slowly lowered the phone.
Her throat tightened painfully.
I already chose him, she thought.
But Catherine's threat lingered like a shadow over everything.
If the contract leaked...
Ethan would have to choose his empire.
And she already knew which one the world expected him to protect.
Her silence earlier had already been an answer.
—
Far above the ocean, the steady hum of a private jet filled the cabin.
Ethan's phone rang.
He answered without looking up.
"Yes."
He listened for only a few seconds.
Then his expression changed.
The relaxed focus in his eyes disappeared, replaced by something sharper. Darker.
His jaw tightened slowly.
"Understood," he said.
The call ended.
John, seated across from him, glanced up from his tablet.
"Sir?"
Ethan stood.
"Prepare the jet," he said. "We leave now."
John blinked.
"Sir, the plan was to stay until tomorrow—"
"I said now."
The quiet force in Ethan's voice ended the discussion immediately.
He looked toward the window, the dark sky stretching endlessly outside.
"There's something I have to take care of," he added.
His voice dropped slightly.
"Something more important than business."
For once, Ethan Blackwood's empire wasn't the priority.
—
Back home, Scarlett stood beside her bed with an open suitcase.
The sound of hangers scraping the closet rod echoed faintly in the room.
She pulled out a dress and folded it automatically, placing it inside the case. Then another. Then a sweater she hadn't worn in months.
The zipper teeth clinked softly whenever the suitcase shifted.
Everything felt oddly mechanical.
Like she was packing for someone else.
Her hand slid open the bedside drawer.
Something solid tapped against the wood.
She paused.
Inside was the small photo frame.
Scarlett lifted it carefully.
The café picture.
She stared at it longer than she meant to.
In the photo she looked nervous, half-smiling like she wasn't sure where to stand.
Ethan stood beside her, tall and composed as always.
To anyone else his expression probably looked neutral.
But Scarlett knew better.
The corner of his mouth had lifted slightly.
And his hand—barely visible in the frame—was holding hers firmly.
Possessively.
Her thumb brushed the glass.
A tear slipped down her cheek and landed quietly against the frame.
She wiped it away with the edge of her sleeve, sniffing softly.
Then she placed the photo carefully into the corner of the suitcase.
Because leaving didn't mean forgetting.
Not really.
When the suitcase was finally packed, she sat down slowly on the bed.
The room felt strangely empty.
Memories drifted through her mind without warning.
Ethan lifting her chin.
His breath warm against her cheek.
The roughness in his voice when he'd told her once—
Wait for me.
Scarlett pulled the blanket closer around her shoulders even though the room wasn't cold.
"Ethan..." she whispered quietly.
Her voice cracked halfway through the sentence.
"I don't have any other choice."