2025-02-13 21:26:42Ethan pushed through the crowd in the bar, looking for his wife.
The bar pounded with loud music. The air reeked of sweat, alcohol, and cologne.
The kind of place where drinks flowed as fast as bad decisions. Ethan’s hands curled into fists.
His fingers curled around his phone, a photo still glaring on the screen: Madeline Reed, his wife of three years, stepping into this very bar with another man.
A man in a tailored suit, oozing money and arrogance. His hand resting way too comfortably on her hip.
Ethan felt something sharp twist in his chest, but he forced himself to keep moving.
He needed to see this for himself. Needed to hear it from her own lips.
The moment he spotted her, his stomach dropped.
Madeline was in a private booth. Her back to him, unmistakable.
She wasn’t just talking to the guy.
She was kissing him. With togues.
The man’s hand gripped her, holding her close. The Rolex on his wrist flashed under the dim light.
Like it was mocking him.
Ethan clenched his jaw. Rage surged through him as he stormed forward.
“Madeline!”
The music was loud, but his voice cut through it like a blade.
She stiffened, tearing herself from the man’s arms and turning sharply.
When her gaze met Ethan’s, something flickered in her eyes. Guilt? Panic?
But it vanished as quickly as it came. She smoothed her hair, organizing her face into indifference.
Ethan squeezed the words out of his back teeth.
“Care to explain?”
She was wearing a red dress that clung to her body, revealing her cleavage. Her skirt was too short that she showed half her panties on the chair.
She had never bothered to dress this sexy in front of Ethan before.
She didn’t answer. Just lifted her drink, taking a slow sip.
The man beside her smirked. He leaned back, lazily draping an arm over the couch.
“Is that him?” His tone was amused when he turned to Madeline. “Your loser husband?”
Madeline’s lips curled in distaste.
“Not for much longer.”
The words hit Ethan like a sledgehammer. His mind buzzed.
He forced himself to breathe. To stay calm.
“Just come home with me,” he said, voice tight. “We’ll talk.”
Madeline let out a cold laugh. She set her drink down with a loud clink.
“Talk?”
She arched a brow.
“Talk about what? How you can’t even afford to buy me a decent gift?”
“How I wasted three years waiting for you to be someone rich?”
Ethan inhaled sharply. His fingers twitched.
“You weren't like this.” His voice was low, controlled, "When you were a little girl..."
They were just around 8 years old. That little girl was kind and innocent. Brought a bright light into the little Ethan's life.
"What little girl?" Madeline sounded puzzled, "What the fuck are you talking about. I never met you as a little girl. What are you? A creep?"
Ethan barely caught it. He flicked his gaze to the man beside her.
Robert Davenport.
A smirking bastard who was enjoying the show.
Madeline scoffed.
“You don’t get it, do you?”
“Look at yourself, Ethan. Then look at him.”
She leaned into Robert’s side, fingers tracing the expensive fabric of his suit.
“Robert drives a Bentley. Lives in a penthouse. Buys me whatever I want.” Her lips curled. “What do you have? A tiny apartment? A paycheck that barely covers rent?”
Ethan’s chest burned.
Robert snickered.
“Tough break, man.” He pulled Madeline closer to him. “But hey, at least she’s being honest.”
His fingers brushed against her dress. Like Ethan wasn’t even standing there.
Ethan let out a slow breath.
"Did you forget everything I gave you?"
Madeline’s eyes burned with cold disdain.
"Gave me?" She let out a sharp laugh. "What exactly did you give me, Ethan?"
"You ran my bath? Cooked me breakfast? Picked me up after work? You think those little things matter? Hell, even a dog could do that."
Ethan’s lips curled into a bitter smile.
"I gave you everything."
He took a step closer, voice dropping to a razor-sharp edge.
"Your company. Your wealth. Your status. You think you built all that on your own?"
"The first round of funding? I provided it."
"Your key business connections? I introduced them to you."
"When your company was on the verge of collapse, bleeding money—I filled the gap."
Madeline’s eyes widened.
Then, suddenly, she burst into laughter.
"Are you serious right now?"
Her voice dripped with mockery.
"You? A broke loser who can’t even afford a decent belt? You expect me to believe you had the money to support me?"
She scoffed, crossing her arms.
"Those investments came from anonymous backers—people who actually saw potential in my company. Not you!"
Anonymous?
Yeah. Because Ethan made it anonymous.
Because he wanted to protect her pride.
"Do you remember the ring you gave me?" Ethan asked suddenly.
"There is no more fucking ring. I threw my poor wedding ring already."
"No, the ring you gave me, years ago." Ethan emphasized.
Madeline shook her head, eyes filled with disdain.
"God, you really are pathetic. Not just poor, but delusional."
"This just proves I was right all along."
She reached into her purse, and pulled out a stack of papers.
She dropped them onto the table.
"Divorce papers," she said coolly. "Sign them. Now."
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Elijah—the man who ran The Black Jack syndicate in Atlantis City—stirred his coffee slowly.The silver spoon tapping gently against the fine bone china cup with a crisp, delicate clink.Sunlight poured in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, landing on his manicured hands. The gleam on his nails was cold, sharp—like polished steel under a surgeon’s scalpel.Across from him, the old man known only as The Night Owl sat as calm as a still lake. His thin, wrinkled fingers methodically dropped sugar cubes into his black tea, each movement steady, almost ritualistic.“Mr. Elijah, about the shipment from Colombia—”But The Night Owl was cut off mid-sentence.A massive bodyguard—easily pushing six-foot-six—strode up, leaned down, and whispered urgently into Elijah’s ear. His breath brushed warm against Elijah’s skin.“What?”Elijah’s voice cracked through the quiet like a whip. “Vulture’s dead?”The spoon slipped from his fingers, clattering onto the saucer with a metallic clang. Black coffee
Chapter 53
“What did you just say?”Noah’s smile froze. For a second, he thought he must’ve misheard.“I said, I have zero interest in a company that's about to go bankrupt,” Ethan repeated calmly.“Bankrupt?”The word hung in the air like a thunderclap. Everyone froze, struggling to process what they just heard.“You’re full of it!”Noah jolted upright, his voice rising in panic. “Hudson Pharmaceuticals is raking in money! We’re thriving! Why the hell would we go bankrupt? Quit fear-mongering!”Ethan leaned back, voice cool and steady. “Whether I’m fear-mongering or not, you know better than anyone. I just got word—Hudson Pharmaceuticals has been completely shut down for selling counterfeit meds. It’s only a matter of time before the bankruptcy paperwork hits.”“Fake meds? Shut down?”Everyone turned, stunned, their eyes locking onto Noah.“Bullshit! That’s complete bullshit!” Noah snapped. “Ethan, you better shut your damn mouth. Hudson runs a clean business! We play by the rules! One more word
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And Lewis Parker, of all people, in that photo?Yeah right. Had to be fake.Sarah let out a cold laugh. “You? Know Lewis freaking Parker? Come on. A guy like you probably can’t even spell sommelier.”She crossed her arms, chin raised in disdain. “Let’s be real—you probably stole that wine.”“Exactly!” Luke jumped in, eyes lighting up like he just cracked the case. “No way you could afford something like that. You swiped it, didn’t you?”Noah’s face lit up with smug satisfaction, like a cat who’d cornered a mouse.“That makes perfect sense,” he sneered. “Of all the things to steal, you went and grabbed a $3.4 million bottle? You realize if the owner presses charges, you’re looking at ten years minimum behind bars?”In Noah’s mind, this was checkmate. No way someone like Ethan could ever own something that valuable.Ethan didn’t flinch. He just set his napkin down, the soft rustle of fabric against wood loud in the sudden tension.First, they said his wine was cheap.Then they claimed it
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“Bullshit!”Luke slammed his hand on the table, rattling the silverware. “What the hell does a broke loser like you know about fine wine? Noah could’ve brought any bottle and—”“It’s a 1985 Romanée-Conti,” Ethan interrupted coolly, tapping the bottle with a knuckle. “Market price? Around eighty grand. But…”His lips curled into a slow, knowing smile.“It’s nowhere near the value of what I brought.”The room went dead silent for a beat—then erupted in disbelief.“Ha! Hahahaha!” Sarah doubled over with a shrill, mocking laugh. “You’re saying Noah’s wine is worth less than whatever crap you brought in that discount crate? You must’ve lost your damn mind!”Luke joined in, pounding the table in hysterics. “Kid, if you’re gonna lie, at least try to make it believable! Do you even know what a Romanée-Conti is? You brought two label-less bottles like some back-alley bargain bin junk and want to compare that to Noah’s?”Noah leaned back in his chair, swirling his glass with a smirk. “Kat, your
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Katherine froze, caught off guard by Ethan speaking up first.She instinctively glanced at Noah—who was already watching Ethan like a bored king eyeing a peasant, his lips curled in mocking amusement.“Introduce me?” Noah set his teacup down with exaggerated grace, voice soaked in sarcasm. “Kat, your boyfriend doesn’t even know who I am?”Katherine bit her lip, about to respond—But Sarah couldn’t hold it in any longer.“Noah is the heir to the Hudson Group! His family’s worth billions! A guy like you—unemployed and broke—you probably haven’t even heard of Hudson, have you?”Ethan smiled faintly, but his eyes cooled.Hudson Group?The same Hudson known for shady pharma deals and lawsuits? The one circling the drain financially?Of course.He gave Noah a neutral glance. The guy was fussing with his cufflinks, flashing that overpriced Patek under the chandelier like it meant something.“Oh,” Ethan said, voice flat as a blade. “Hudson Group, huh? Heard of it.”Like he was just checking a bo
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Ethan pulled two bottles of vintage wine from the trunk, the dark glass gleaming blood-red under the sunlight.A gift, of sorts.Lewis Parker had all but shoved them into his hands a few days ago—1982 Lafite, six figures a bottle. Might as well make good use of them.He gave the bottles a quick toss in his hand, then followed Katherine up the path to the front door of the Blair family estate.In front of the villa, Katherine’s fingers were clamped tight around the strap of her handbag. She glanced sideways at him, eyes full of quiet tension.“Ethan… just a heads-up. My family might not be exactly... welcoming.”Ethan gave a half-smile, completely unbothered. He reached out and gently patted her shoulder.The simple touch eased some of the tension from her posture.She took a breath and punched in the door code.Beep.The gate clicked open.“Kat! Finally, you show up!”A sharp, high-pitched voice exploded before they’d even stepped inside.A middle-aged woman stormed toward them, floral