Chapter Three
1467 Words
Ethan drove into the lush estate, the tires crunching softly over the gravel as the grand mansion came into view. He stopped beside the fountain, its water shimmering in the afternoon sun. With a deep breath, he stepped out of his sleek car and strode toward the entrance, the weight of the sprawling estate pressing down with quiet grandeur.
Although the security guards greeted him politely at the door, it was the interior of the house that carried a different energy—one that always reminded him of family, legacy, and expectation. The maids and staff bowed slightly as he passed, their whispers floating behind him like a gentle breeze. He was well aware of the attention; women seemed to notice him everywhere he went, whether at the office or in casual settings. A faint smirk tugged at his lips, though he paid them little mind.
He ran a hand through his short, smooth black hair and moved up the staircase to the upper rooms. The polished wooden steps echoed softly under his feet. At the end of the corridor, a particular door caught his attention. He paused, drew a deep breath, and knocked lightly.
A faint voice called back, and Ethan pushed the door open slowly. Inside, an elderly man sat in a large swivel chair, his back to the entrance.
“Good afternoon, Grandpa,” Ethan greeted, stopping a few meters away from the desk. The couches behind him gleamed in the sunlight streaming through the large windows.
The old man turned, his eyes lighting up as they met Ethan’s. A warm smile spread across his face.
“Welcome, son,” he said kindly.
“Have a seat,” he added, gesturing toward the couch instead of the chair before him. Ethan bowed slightly and moved over, sinking into the cushions with ease.
His grandfather rose and walked to a shelf lined with bottles of fine alcohol. “Brandy or whiskey?” he asked, holding a bottle in his hands.
“No, sir. The sun’s still up, and I have to drive,” Ethan replied politely.
His grandfather chuckled, pouring himself a glass of scotch before joining Ethan on the couch. Sitting opposite him, he studied Ethan carefully.
“You called. Is there something you wanted to discuss privately?” Ethan asked, his voice formal but cautious.
His grandfather took a slow sip before setting the glass down. “Ethan, I can’t wait any longer,” he said, his voice heavy with concern.
“For what?” Ethan inquired, curious.
“For you to get married and start a family of your own,” his grandfather replied gently but firmly.
Ethan scoffed, leaning back. “Grandpa, that’s not something I’m interested in right now.”
“When will you ever be? You’ve been saying that for five years. Do you think the family name will sustain itself without you?” his grandfather asked, the edge of despair barely masked.
Ethan’s eyes narrowed. “Why does it matter so much to you? It’s my life, and I should live it as I choose,” he said, unapologetically.
“You’re aware Erickson Law Firm existed long before I was born. Are you seriously telling me you won’t keep this business in the family?” the old man pressed.
“Don’t I have cousins who can run it?” Ethan countered.
“Are they attorneys?” his grandfather fired back sharply.
Ethan fell silent, the weight of expectation pressing down on him.
“You are the most competent man in this business. An exceptional attorney with unparalleled leadership skills. You have the gift—please don’t let it die with you,” his grandfather pleaded, his voice softening.
Ethan sighed, the familiar ache in his chest returning. This was the man who had raised him after his parents’ untimely deaths—the man whose approval and happiness mattered more than anything.
“But how is this supposed to work? I’m not seeing anyone. And what if it doesn’t work out?” Ethan asked quietly.
His grandfather smiled knowingly. “Don’t worry. Angelo has that covered.”
Ethan’s gray eyes widened in disbelief. “Angelo? He’s back?”
“Yes. He wanted to surprise you,” his grandfather replied with a hearty laugh.
Ethan’s excitement sparked, and he rose almost immediately. “In that case, I’ll wrap things up here and go see him,” he said.
His grandfather chuckled again, pleased to see his grandson’s energy renewed. “Sure, go ahead.”
Ethan left the room, each step echoing down the grand hallway, a rare grin tugging at his lips.
Driving steadily, Ethan tried calling Angelo but found the phone switched off. When he asked his grandfather if Angelo had stopped by, the answer was no. Mildly disappointed, he returned home.
After parking, he took the elevator up to his condo. The familiar aroma of food greeted him as he stepped inside.
“Who’s cooking fried rice in my house?” he muttered, curiosity piqued.
A man appeared carrying a large fine china bowl. Despite the sweat on his forehead and the dirty apron, his dark curly hair remained perfectly styled, and his tall, well-built frame was unmistakable.
“Angelo?” Ethan called, a rush of joy breaking through his usual calm demeanor.
Angelo turned, golden-brown eyes lighting up with a radiant smile. Ethan rushed forward, nearly bumping into the table.
“Easy, I’m holding a bowl,” Angelo warned, setting the food down.
“Bro! I’ve been trying to reach you since Grandpa said you arrived,” Ethan exclaimed.
“I just wanted to surprise you,” Angelo said, a single dimple appearing in his cheek.
Ethan grinned, genuine warmth spreading across his face. “I missed you, Angelo.”
They shared a brief, heartfelt hug.
“No one ever sees this side of you,” Angelo teased.
“And you won’t tell anyone,” Ethan replied with a laugh, both of them chuckling.
“Go wash your hands. Let’s eat,” Angelo said.
“Why don’t I freshen up, and maybe we hang out later tonight?” Ethan suggested.
“Nope. You’re going on a blind date,” Angelo said firmly, amusement dancing in his eyes.
Ethan blinked, recalling his grandfather’s earlier words. “I would argue, but I guess Grandpa talked me into this,” he admitted.
Angelo placed a reassuring hand on Ethan’s shoulder. “I know everything, Ethan. But you can’t let your past stop you from finding love.”
“It’s not that simple,” Ethan said softly.
“I know. But trauma shouldn’t rob you of life. You’ve built your world around work, and that’s fine—but you deserve happiness too. Meet someone. Connect. I promise it won’t be as bad as you think,” Angelo encouraged.
“I’m not like you—wild and free,” Ethan said.
Angelo laughed. “I’m not a party animal anymore. Relax, I’ve got you.”
“Are you still with Arya, the supermodel?” Ethan asked casually.
“We split. Nothing serious,” Angelo replied.
“When will you stop changing women like shirts?” Ethan teased.
“I’m just enjoying life,” Angelo shrugged.
“I’ll go wash up so I can eat,” Ethan said, heading toward the bathroom.
Later, after dinner, Angelo checked his smartwatch. “Your date is at 7 p.m. You’ve got one hour to get ready.”
“Already? Can’t we just hang out tonight? It’s Saturday,” Ethan protested.
“I’ll be around for a month. Tonight, you’re going,” Angelo insisted firmly.
“Who am I meeting?” Ethan asked.
“She’s a young, savvy, beautiful curator at De Puont Gallery—the biggest gallery in America,” Angelo revealed.
Ethan sighed. “Alright. I’ll get ready.”
“Go shower. I’ll pick your outfit,” Angelo said confidently.
Meanwhile, Chloe stepped into the living room where Casey was watching a series.
“How do I look?” she asked, adjusting her short flare gown.
Casey froze, eyes wide. “Oh my goodness, Chloe! You look drop-dead gorgeous!”
Chloe smiled proudly. “I almost forgot what going on dates feels like.”
“Your date made a reservation at The Bell Tower Restaurant. Will you order a ride or drive?” Casey asked.
“I’ll drive. I’ll tell you everything when I get back,” Chloe replied.
“I’ll be waiting for the tea,” Casey grinned.
Chloe paused at the door. “Where did you say he works again?”
“He owns a law firm. I forgot the name,” Casey answered casually.
Chloe rolled her eyes but didn’t press further. She stepped outside, slipping into her car, and drove into the approaching night, anticipation and curiosity mingling in her chest.
- Writer
