Chapter 3 - THE FIRST SAFE NIGHT
I did not go home.
At 10:46 p.m., the last major donor left Carter Tower.
At 11:03 p.m., Ethan closed the ballroom doors himself.
At 11:05 p.m., I finally stopped pretending I could continue working.
I sat at an empty table surrounded by abandoned champagne glasses and wilted flowers.
My hands would not stop shaking.
Ethan returned carrying two bottles of water.
He placed one in front of me.
“I called my head of security.”
Panic shot through me.
“You promised.”
“I promised I wouldn’t confront Andrew.”
“You can’t send people after him.”
“I didn’t.”
He sat across from me.
“I sent two women from our executive protection team to your apartment.”
I stared at him.
“They’re collecting your passport, medication, computer, clothing, and anything else you request.”
“You entered my apartment?”
“With your building manager and a locksmith.”
My fear turned into anger.
“You had no right.”
“You’re right.”
The immediate agreement stopped me.
Ethan leaned back.
“I should have asked first.”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry.”
I looked down.
People like Andrew never apologized without attaching blame.
I did not know what to do with a genuine apology.
Ethan continued.
“But after seeing those messages, I wasn’t willing to leave you without options.”
“I didn’t say I was leaving him.”
“No.”
“You’re acting like I did.”
“I’m acting like tonight you need somewhere safe to sleep.”
My throat tightened.
“Andrew will know.”
“He already knows something changed.”
“He’ll come looking for me.”
“He won’t reach you.”
“You don’t know him.”
“No.”
Ethan’s eyes held mine.
“But I know security.”
The elevator opened.
A woman in a dark suit stepped into the ballroom.
She was in her forties, with cropped dark hair and the kind of posture that made everyone else instinctively move out of her path.
“Ava, this is Mara Torres.”
Mara placed a duffel bag beside my chair.
“Former NYPD.”
She gave Ethan an irritated look.
“Formerly tired of people introducing me that way.”
For some reason, I almost smiled.
Mara crouched beside my chair.
“Your things are here.”
She spoke directly to me.
Not Ethan.
Not around me.
To me.
“Your fiancé arrived at the apartment while we were packing.”
Every trace of humor vanished.
“What happened?”
“He demanded entry.”
My breathing accelerated.
“Did you tell him where I was?”
“No.”
“He knows.”
“Probably.”
“He’ll come here.”
Mara shook her head.
“He already did.”
I stood so quickly the chair scraped backward.
“What?”
“He’s downstairs.”
Ethan rose.
Mara held up a hand.
“Security stopped him in the lobby.”
I turned toward Ethan.
“You said you wouldn’t confront him.”
“I haven’t.”
“He came because of me.”
“He came because he thinks you belong to him.”
Mara’s words struck harder than I expected.
I sank back into my chair.
My phone vibrated again.
Twenty-one missed calls.
Nine messages.
The latest one read.
COME DOWN NOW.
Another.
DON’T MAKE ME COME UP THERE.
Another.
YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU EMBARRASS ME.
Ethan read my expression.
“Save them.”
“I usually delete them.”
“Why?”
“Because he checks my phone.”
Mara sat beside me.
“Don’t delete anything tonight.”
My hands trembled.
She continued.
“Photograph your injuries.”
I looked toward Ethan.
He immediately turned away.
Mara noticed.
“Not for him.”
She pointed toward the hall.
“I can help you find a female medical professional who is independent of Andrew’s hospital.”
I swallowed.
“I can’t report him.”
“You don’t have to decide that tonight.”
Those words mattered.
Nobody was demanding courage from me.
Nobody was ordering me to become a witness, a victim, a survivor, or a symbol.
They were giving me a room.
Water.
Time.
Options.
Ethan walked to the window.
New York glittered below us.
For nearly a minute, he said nothing.
Then he spoke without turning around.
“There’s a guest residence on the forty-sixth floor.”
“I can get a hotel.”
“He can search hotels.”
“I can stay with a friend.”
“He may know your friends.”
I closed my eyes.
He did.
Every one of them.
Andrew had spent months making sure of it.
Ethan turned.
“The residence has a separate elevator, private security, and no public record connecting you to the unit.”
I hesitated.
“And you?”
“I live three floors above.”
“That’s exactly why I shouldn’t stay there.”
Something softened in his expression.
“Because people will talk?”
“Because Andrew will.”
“Let him.”
“I don’t want everyone thinking I ran from one man into another.”
Ethan looked almost wounded.
Then he nodded.
“That’s fair.”
Mara stood.
“I’ll stay in the guest unit across the hall.”
I looked at her.
She shrugged.
“No billionaire involved.”
Ethan gave her a dry look.
Mara smiled.
The tension broke for one second.
Then the elevator phone rang.
A security guard spoke through the wall panel.
“Mr. Carter.”
“Yes.”
“Dr. Vaughn refuses to leave.”
Ethan’s face hardened.
“What is he doing?”
“He says he’s waiting for Ms. Monroe.”
I looked toward the elevator.
For years afterward, I would remember that exact moment.
Not because Andrew was downstairs.
Not because Ethan was beside me.
But because for the first time in nine months, someone asked what I wanted.
Mara looked at me.
“Do you want to see him?”
My answer came before fear could stop it.
“No.”
May you like
Ethan pressed the intercom.
“Then remove him from the building.”
