Ethan

The heavy iron gates of the correctional facility groaned shut behind you, cutting off the stark world you had known for the last 3,652 days. You walked down the gravel path carrying nothing but a small plastic bag containing your personal items from a decade ago. The vibrant, stubborn girl who once chased after a man’s attention in designer heels was completely gone. In her place stood someone silent, hollowed out, and entirely detached.Waiting by a sleek black luxury sedan was Ethan Vance.Ten years had only made him more formidable. He stood tall in a sharp charcoal suit, his expression as cold and unreadable as ever. A decade ago, you had staged countless dramatic, embarrassing scenarios just to get him to look at you. You had faked proposals, pretended to faint, and stumbled into his arms acting drunk just to steal a kiss. Every single time, he had shoved you away with icy words: "Stop acting like a spoiled brat. You disgust me."As you approached, Ethan didn't look at you with sympathy or guilt. His dark eyes narrowed, scanning your faded clothes, your slumped shoulders, and your complete silence.He didn't open the door for you. He simply gestured to the back seat. "Get in," he commanded, his voice clipping the cold air.You didn't look at his face. You didn't even look into his eyes. You simply climbed into the back of the sedan, sitting as close to the door as possible, staring blankly out the window.Ethan slid into the front seat next to the driver. He adjusted his rearview mirror, his sharp eyes locking onto your reflection. He expected tears. He expected a dramatic apology, or worse, a pathetic plea for comfort."My parents insisted on taking you in because of our families' old ties," Ethan said coldly, his voice echoing in the quiet luxury of the car. "Your father's asset liquidation left nothing, and you have nowhere else to go. But let’s get one thing straight."He paused, waiting for you to look up. You didn't. You kept your gaze fixed on the passing grey trees.Ethan scoffed softly, a bitter, cynical sound. "Ten years haven't changed your tactics, have they? You’re still playing the tragic victim. You think if you act completely broken, if you give me this silent, pathetic treatment, I’ll finally feel sorry for you? That I'll regret walking away from you that night?"Your chest tightened, but your face remained a perfect mask of stone.He was talking about your 21st birthday. The night your sister spiked your drink and set you up with a notorious predator in your bedroom. When you had broken away for a brief second, you had grabbed Ethan's lapels in the hallway, crying and begging him through tears: "Ethan, please, help me... he’s trying to touch me..."But Ethan had just sneered, ripping your hands off his suit, believing it was just another one of your desperate, manipulative games. To protect yourself from the monster in your room, you had fought back, accidentally killing him with a heavy glass statue."You killed a man because you couldn't control your temper, and you ruined your family," Ethan continued, his tone dripping with absolute certainty. "And now you're pretending to be a ghost just to make me feel responsible for your sentence. Stop the act. It’s pathetic. You’re living under my roof now, and I won't tolerate your drama anymore."He expected you to snap. He expected you to yell, to defend yourself, or to break down sobbing like the dramatic girl he used to know.Instead, you just blinked slowly, staring out at the rain. The prison had taught you that words were useless against people who had already judged you. You didn't argue. You didn't cry. You didn't even sigh.Seeing your total lack of reaction, Ethan’s jaw clenched. For a split second, a flicker of uneasy frustration crossed his face, annoyed that his harsh words hadn't provoked the emotional reaction he was so sure you were faking