Chapter Two: Control What Is Yours
1132 Words
The message arrived at 11:47 p.m.
Ethan was still awake.
He hadn’t been able to sleep since the courtyard scene. Lina’s voice kept replaying in his head.
“Congratulations. I hope this time, you don’t run.”
His jaw tightened as he stood near the floor-to-ceiling window of his penthouse apartment overlooking the city skyline. Westbridge glittered at night — powerful, expensive, untouchable.
Just like the families who ruled it.
His phone buzzed.
Unknown Number.
He almost ignored it.
Almost.
Instead, he opened it.
Control your ex-girlfriend.
Or we will.
Attached below was a photo.
Lina’s mother.
Leaving St. Catherine’s Hospital.
The timestamp read: 9:12 p.m.
Ethan’s expression changed instantly.
Cold.
Lethal.
They were watching her.
Across town, Lina sat on the edge of her small bed, textbooks open but unread. The dorm room was modest — two beds, two desks, plain white walls. Her roommate hadn’t moved in yet.
The silence pressed against her ears.
She hated how seeing him today had shaken her.
She had promised herself she wouldn’t care.
But when Sophia mentioned the engagement…
Her chest tightened again.
She reached for her phone, scrolling through old messages she never had the strength to delete.
The last text Ethan ever sent her two years ago:
Take care of yourself.
Nothing else.
No explanation.
No fight for her.
She locked the screen and threw the phone onto the bed.
“I’m not that girl anymore,” she whispered to herself.
A knock came at her door.
She frowned.
It was nearly midnight.
Another knock. Firmer.
Her heart skipped.
Slowly, she stood and walked toward the door.
When she opened it—
Ethan stood there.
Her breath caught.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded quietly.
“We need to talk.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I have nothing to say to you.”
He stepped forward slightly. Not forcing. Just present.
“They’re watching you.”
Her anger flickered into confusion. “What?”
“My father. The Laurents. I don’t know which one yet. But someone is watching your family.”
Her face paled.
“That’s not funny.”
“I’m not joking.”
He held out his phone.
She hesitated before looking.
The photo.
Her mother.
Outside the hospital.
Her fingers trembled.
“How did you get this?”
“They sent it to me.”
“Why?”
His silence answered everything.
Because of you.
Because of us.
She stepped back slowly, her mind racing.
“They wouldn’t—” she began.
“They would,” he cut in sharply. “You have no idea what these people are capable of.”
“I grew up watching my mother choose between medicine and rent,” she shot back. “Don’t tell me I don’t understand what people are capable of.”
The words hung between them.
He exhaled slowly.
“I broke up with you because my father threatened your family,” he said.
The confession landed like a stone dropped into still water.
She stared at him.
“What?”
“They found out about us. The scholarship. Your mom’s hospital funding. They said if I didn’t end it, they would make sure your family paid for my disobedience.”
Her ears rang.
“You’re lying.”
“I wish I was.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me?” Her voice cracked despite her effort to stay composed. “Why did you let me think you stopped loving me?”
“Because if I told you, you would’ve tried to fight them,” he said. “And you would’ve lost.”
The room felt too small.
Too tight.
She paced once, twice.
“You don’t get to decide for me,” she whispered.
“I know.”
The vulnerability in his voice unsettled her.
For two years, she had built her anger on the belief that he chose wealth over her.
Now he was telling her he chose her.
In the worst possible way.
“I protected you,” he continued quietly. “But I never stopped loving you.”
Her heart betrayed her again.
She hated that it still reacted to him.
“This doesn’t change anything,” she said, though her tone lacked certainty. “You’re engaged.”
“I’m not married.”
“That’s not the point.”
“It is to me.”
Before she could respond, his phone rang.
He glanced at the screen.
Father.
His jaw hardened.
He answered.
“Yes.”
Even from where she stood, she could hear the cold voice through the speaker.
“Where are you?” Mr. Vale asked.
“Out.”
“With her?”
Ethan’s eyes lifted to Lina.
“Yes.”
A pause.
Then:
“I see.”
The line went quiet for a second too long.
“Son,” his father continued smoothly, “the Laurent merger dinner has been moved to tomorrow night.”
Ethan stiffened. “That wasn’t scheduled.”
“It is now.”
He understood.
A warning.
Public display required.
“You will attend with Sophia,” his father added. “And you will remember what is at stake.”
The call ended.
Lina crossed her arms. “You should go.”
He didn’t move.
“If they’re threatening my family again, I deserve to know everything,” she said firmly.
He stepped closer.
“You deserve a life without this.”
“Stop deciding that for me.”
Her independence — the very thing he loved about her — was now a blade pointed at both of them.
He reached out, hesitated, then gently took her hand.
The contact sent electricity through both of them.
“I won’t run this time,” he said quietly.
She looked at him.
Searching for lies.
Finding none.
But trust wasn’t rebuilt in one night.
“Let go,” she whispered.
He did.
A knock echoed down the hallway.
Heavy.
Authoritative.
Both of them froze.
Another knock.
Then a voice.
“Campus security. Open the door.”
Lina frowned. “Why would security—”
Ethan’s expression darkened.
He knew that tone.
Not campus security.
Corporate security.
The knock came again. Harder.
“Miss Hart, we need to ask you a few questions regarding a complaint filed against you.”
“What complaint?” she asked, panic rising.
Ethan moved in front of her instinctively.
“Don’t open it,” he murmured.
But it was too late.
The handle turned.
Unlocked.
Someone had overridden it.
The door swung open.
Two men in dark suits stepped inside.
Behind them—
Mr. Laurent.
He smiled faintly.
“Good evening,” he said smoothly. “I believe this conversation is long overdue.”
Lina’s heart dropped.
Ethan’s hands curled into fists.
The war had officially begun.
- Writer
