"It's so wonderful to see you again, Ethan," Rebecca, Ethan's grandma beamed, her voice laced with warmth and delight as she reached out with frail but eager hands to gently cup her grandson's cheek. "You didn't mention you'd be returning to the country… and tell me, is the woman in the news the same one you once spoke so fondly about?"
Ethan's jaw tightened, the joy on her face only deepening the guilt and unease in his chest.
His brows furrowed, and he instinctively reached up to hold her hand in his, his touch soft but firm as he gently shook his head, searching for the right words.
"No, Grandma, you're—"
"Oh, don't start pretending again, Ethan," his mother, Amelia, cut in with a knowing smirk, clicking her heels across the marble floor as she joined them. "She's probably just shy, that's all. You know how women can be. Besides, we're a welcoming family."
"Mother, please, listen," Ethan said with a weary sigh, his voice tight with frustration. "The truth is, the girl I had actually planned to bring home to meet you all is—"
A sharp, authoritative voice sliced through the tension like a knife, causing all three heads to turn.
"You do realize that announcing your engagement and bringing the girl home is the only thing stopping me from handing over the company to you, right?"
The voice belonged to none other than Mason Torres—Ethan's father—whose imposing presence was only heightened by the cold gleam of his glasses and the clipped tone of his speech.
He approached them with slow, deliberate steps, his gaze locked firmly on his son.
"Ethan, we've tolerated your bachelor lifestyle for far too long, but it's time you faced your responsibilities. You're twenty-six—not getting any younger. What irritates me the most is learning about your so-called fiancée from the news before hearing it from your own lips. Do you have any idea how immature and reckless that behavior is? It's a disgrace to the Torres name."
Ethan's lips parted, but no words came. The weight of his father's disapproval was something he'd known all his life—it still stung every time.
"Oh, come on, Mason. Give the boy a break," Rebecca interjected, attempting to soften her son's harsh stance. "So the media got wind of it first. He still has time to bring her home properly."
But Mason wasn't done. He turned his gaze to his mother, then back to Ethan.
"He should be grateful I haven't forced him into an arranged marriage yet. I refuse to let my legacy fall into the hands of a son who can't take his life seriously. This company is built on discipline, Ethan—not daydreams and excuses."
Ethan opened his mouth to speak, only to feel the gentle touch of his mother's hand on his arm. Amelia smiled warmly, her tone light and teasing as she tried to ease the growing tension.
"Regardless, I'm just excited to finally meet the girl my son's been obsessing over. He talks about her like she's the moon and stars—now I want to see her with my own eyes."
But Ethan said nothing.
The words were caught in his throat. And before he realized it, he was standing alone by the edge of the family mansion's pool, staring at the glowing water beneath a sky scattered with stars.
A cigarette hung between his fingers, the smoke curling lazily in the night air, echoing the fog of his own thoughts.
He hadn't heard from Grace—not a word.
She'd blocked him from every platform, cut off every line of communication. No texts. No calls. Just silence.
He took a long drag from the cigarette, the bitterness of the smoke no match for the ache in his chest. All he had wanted was to explain.
To make her understand. But Grace hadn't given him the chance.
"Ethan. Bro."
The voice snapped him out of his thoughts. Caleb approached with a steady pace, his expression unreadable.
Ethan turned his head slowly, his eyes heavy and cold. "What did the report say?"
Caleb hesitated, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Listen, man, I need you to stay calm about what I'm about to say. But… the reports came back. And it turns out Grace's been seeing someone else."
Ethan froze, his grip on the cigarette tightening. "What?"
"I didn't want to believe it either," Caleb said as he pulled out his phone. "But the team found out she's been dating an older man. She's not even in the same city anymore."
He handed Ethan the phone.
Ethan scrolled through the pictures—each one a blow harder than the last. Grace.
Smiling. Holding hands with someone else. It felt like the floor had disappeared beneath his feet.
"It can't be her," Ethan murmured, his voice hollow.
His hand shook as he nearly flung the phone into the pool, but Caleb reacted fast, snatching it away before it could sink.
"I figured you'd react like this," Caleb said calmly. "But bro, we need to be strategic here. If you want to get the company, you need someone—anyone—to play the part. Just until your father hands it over. Then we figure out the rest."
Ethan turned his eyes toward him, his expression unreadable—cold and shattered.
"I loved her, Caleb," he said, his voice almost a whisper.
"I know. I know you did. But she didn't love you enough back. So don't let this destroy you. Let it push you. Use this moment."
There was a long silence between them, the only sound the faint ripple of the pool.
Then Ethan finally spoke.
"So what are you suggesting?"
Caleb met his eyes. "We go meet the woman the media thinks is your fiancée. The one they captured you with. Let's make the lie work in our favor."
Ethan blinked, stunned by the boldness of it.
"What?" he asked, his voice almost a breath.
"You heard me. Let's turn this mess into a plan."
*
Ethan stood still, rooted to the floor in the dimly lit hallway outside Ava's hotel room.
The sterile scent of the corridor, the faint hum of the elevator in the distance—none of it mattered. All he could hear was the thud of his own heartbeat in his chest.
Thanks to Noah's resourcefulness and Caleb's relentless persistence, he had managed to find her. Ava.
The woman caught beside him in a single photograph that now had the media—and his family—buzzing.
Caleb had been the one to push this idea, convincing Ethan that if she could pretend, just for a little while, everything would fall into place.
Still, standing here, on the verge of asking a complete stranger to step into the chaos of his life, Ethan couldn't help but feel the weight of it all.
His hand hovered in the air, hesitating for a brief second before he finally knocked—sharp and decisive.
He waited.
Seconds stretched into what felt like an eternity. Part of him feared she wouldn't answer. A deeper part of him feared she would.
Then—click. The door opened.
Ava stood in the doorway, her expression unreadable. Her gaze was cool, distant, almost disapproving—as if she already knew he brought trouble with him.
"Hi," Ethan began awkwardly, attempting to soften his usually icy voice. "I—uh—I came to talk. Can I come in? Just for a few minutes?"
For a second, he thought she might consider it. But instead, Ava's hand tightened around the doorknob, and with a look of pure disinterest, she began to shut the door.
Thunk.
Ethan instinctively pushed his hand forward, trying to stop her, only to wince as the edge of the door caught the skin between his thumb and index finger.
"Shit!" he hissed, yanking his hand back. "Damn it…"
He stared at the closed door in disbelief, pain radiating through his hand. No apology. No hesitation. Just a slammed door in his face.
"You know, a simple 'no' would've worked just fine!" he yelled, not caring if he drew attention from neighboring rooms.
He pulled his phone out of his pocket, jaw clenched, and quickly dialed Caleb.
"This was a mistake," Ethan snapped the moment the call connected. "I'm done. I'm not going to chase after a woman who doesn't give a damn about what I need."
"Ethan, stop. Just listen for one second," Caleb urged, his voice calm but firm. "You're not doing this for her. You're doing it for you. If you walk away now, your father's going to bury you in disappointment. And you know it."
Ethan didn't respond immediately.
He stood in front of the door, teeth clenched, his wounded hand hanging at his side. Caleb wasn't wrong.
The company, his future, his pride—it was all on the line.
With a frustrated sigh, he muttered, "Whatever," and ended the call without another word.
But something shifted in his eyes as he looked back at the door. The pain, the rejection, even the ridiculousness of the entire situation—it all hardened into determination.
He wasn't going to give up that easily.
Not when everything he'd ever worked for hung in the balance.