obsessed over you

chapter 4

Still fuming from the encounter, I stormed down the street, clutching my bag tightly. My heart was pounding, and the frustration bubbling inside me was threatening to spill over. My cracked phone sat in my hand like a mocking reminder of the morning's disaster.

The man’s cutting words replayed in my mind, each one sharper than the last. Miserable life? Doesn’t he think I know that already? I wanted to scream, but instead, I stopped in my tracks, staring at the broken screen.

“What’s the point?” I muttered under my breath. Without thinking, I hurled the phone into a nearby trash can. The satisfying clatter of plastic against metal brought a flicker of relief, but only for a moment.

I squared my shoulders, inhaling deeply, and kept walking. The anger lingered, but at least now, I didn’t have to look at that broken reminder anymore.

---

Ethan watched her from the driver’s seat of his car, his brow furrowing as he saw her toss the phone away. He hadn’t planned to linger after their heated exchange, but something about her actions caught his attention.

She didn’t look back as she strode away, her frustration evident in every step. Ethan hesitated for a moment before stepping out of his car and walking toward the trash can. Without a word, he reached in and pulled out the phone. The screen was cracked, but it was still functional.

He studied it for a moment, his expression unreadable, before heading back to his car.

---

Fifteen minutes later, Ethan parked outside a luxurious restaurant nestled in the heart of the city. The polished exterior gleamed in the morning sunlight, and the air buzzed with activity as staff hurried about, preparing for the day.

Ethan stepped inside, his presence commanding immediate attention. A few employees greeted him with polite nods, but he barely acknowledged them. Instead, he walked straight to the reception desk, where his assistant, Mark, was organizing paperwork.

“Fix this,” Ethan said curtly, tossing the phone onto the desk.

Mark looked up, startled, before glancing at the device. “Uh, whose phone is this?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Ethan replied, his tone cold. “Just get it repaired and working.”

Mark nodded quickly, knowing better than to question him further. “Yes, sir.”

Without another word, Ethan turned and headed toward a private room at the back of the restaurant. The door closed behind him with a soft click, shutting him off from the bustling activity outside.

Inside, the room was quiet and tastefully decorated, offering a stark contrast to the chaos of the morning. Ethan sat down, leaning back in the plush chair, his thoughts drifting back to the girl from the street.

Her anger, her defiance—it all lingered in his mind, much like her grief-stricken face at the cemetery. For reasons he couldn’t explain, she intrigued him. Shaking off the thought, Ethan reached for a glass of water, letting the cool liquid wash away the heat of his lingering frustration.

He had more important things to focus on now—or so he told himself.

The bar was buzzing with its usual energy, the hum of chatter and clinking glasses filling the air. I weaved through the tables with practiced ease, balancing trays and taking orders like clockwork. Work had become a rhythm for me—a way to drown out the noise in my head and keep moving forward.

I was in the middle of clearing a table when a sharp whistle cut through the din. I turned to see a man seated in one of the VIP sections, his expensive suit and arrogant smirk immediately setting off alarm bells in my mind.

“You there,” he called out, gesturing toward me. “Come here.”

I hesitated for a moment before walking over, plastering on my best professional smile. “Good evening, sir. How can I help you?”

He looked me over, his gaze lingering a little too long for my comfort. “Sit down and have a drink with me.”

I blinked, surprised by the demand. “I’m sorry, sir, but I’m working. I have other customers to attend to.”

The man’s smirk vanished, replaced by a scowl. “Did I ask if you were working? No woman disobeys my orders here. Unless, of course, she doesn’t want to keep her job.”

My jaw tightened as I fought to keep my composure. “With all due respect, I can’t sit down. I have work to do.”

I turned to leave, but before I could take a step, his hand shot out and grabbed my arm, pulling me toward him. I stumbled, my head hitting his chest with a painful thud. The sudden contact made me hiss in pain, and anger flared in my chest.

“Let go of me,” I snapped, shoving him hard. He wasn’t expecting it, and the force sent him tumbling back into the table behind him. Drinks spilled everywhere, the glasses shattering as they hit the floor.

The man stood up quickly, his face red with fury. Without warning, he slapped me hard across the face, the sting making my vision blur for a moment.

“You’re fired, you b***h,” he spat, his voice venomous.

I didn’t even think. The rage boiling inside me took over, and I spat at him, my disgust clear. “You don’t scare me,” I said coldly, glaring at him before turning on my heel and walking out of the VIP section.

My heart was pounding as I headed toward the back, tears threatening to spill, but I held them back. I wouldn’t let him see me break.

Rachel caught up with me as I reached the break room. “Kyra, what were you thinking?” she asked, her voice a mix of concern and disbelief.

I shrugged, pretending like I wasn’t on the verge of breaking down. “He deserved it, Rachel. I’m not going to let anyone disrespect me, no matter who they are.”

Rachel sighed, rubbing her forehead. “Look, we all know Adrian’s a jerk, but you should’ve just walked away. Now you’ve given him the perfect excuse to get rid of you.”

Before I could respond, the manager appeared, his expression grim. “Kyra, can I speak with you?”

I nodded, already knowing what was coming. He didn’t mince words. “You’re fired. Adrian has made it clear that he doesn’t want you here anymore.”

I swallowed hard, nodding again. “I understand,” I said simply.

The manager handed me my final paycheck, and I took it without a word. As I walked back to grab my things, Rachel followed me, her face filled with worry.

“Kyra, what are you going to do now?” she asked softly.

I forced a small smile, though it didn’t reach my eyes. “I’ll be fine, Rachel. Don’t worry about me.”

She hugged me tightly, and for a moment, I let myself lean into her warmth. But then I pulled away, grabbing my bag and heading out the door.

The night air hit my face as I stepped outside, and I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. I had no idea what I was going to do next, but one thing was certain: I wouldn’t let anyone, not Adrian or anyone else, tear me down. I’d figure it out. I always did.

Ethan’s phone buzzed on the table, breaking the calm of the private room he was seated in. He glanced at the screen, his father’s name glowing on the caller ID. Letting out a sigh, he picked up, bracing himself for whatever command would follow.

“Ethan,” his father’s deep, authoritative voice came through. “Come back to the mansion. Now.”

There was no room for argument, no explanation, just the weight of expectation that Ethan had grown all too familiar with. He didn’t bother responding, simply ending the call and grabbing his jacket.

---

When Ethan arrived at the mansion, its grandeur loomed over him like a prison. The sprawling estate, with its perfectly manicured lawns and towering gates, felt suffocating. He stepped inside, his polished shoes clicking against the marble floors as the familiar scent of fresh flowers and wood polish hit him.

His mother was the first to greet him. She rushed toward him, her arms outstretched, pulling him into a tight hug. “Ethan!” she exclaimed dramatically, her voice filled with exaggerated emotion.

He stood stiffly, not returning the embrace, but that didn’t deter her. “I’ve missed you so much! Why didn’t you tell us you were back? Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been? You just disappear for years and then show up without a word!”

Ethan stepped back, avoiding her probing gaze. “I didn’t think it mattered,” he said flatly, his tone betraying his disinterest in her theatrics.

His father, ever stoic, gave a brief nod of acknowledgment from his place by the fireplace. The man’s presence was imposing, his silence even more so.

Before Ethan could say more, his grandfather entered the room, leaning heavily on his cane but still radiating authority. His sharp eyes pinned Ethan in place.

“You think you own yourself, boy?” the old man barked, his cane tapping against the floor with each step. “You think you can just come and go as you please, ignoring your responsibilities to this family?”

Ethan clenched his jaw but said nothing, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

The old man pointed his cane at him. “Get ready. Tomorrow, we’ll introduce you to the board as the new CEO of the family business. It’s time you stepped up.”

Ethan’s eyes narrowed, a bitter smile playing on his lips. “I’m not ready for that responsibility,” he said coldly, his voice low but firm. He turned to leave, unwilling to continue the conversation.

Before he could take a step, the cane struck his leg—not hard, but enough to make him stop. “How dare you turn your back on your father and this family?” his grandfather snapped. “And for what? For someone who was nothing to you?”

Ethan froze, the words igniting a fire in his chest. He spun around, his anger finally boiling over. “Nothing to me?” he said, his voice rising, his cold exterior cracking. “You mean Albert? My best friend? The one you refused to help when he died because he wasn’t one of us? The one you dismissed like he was trash? Is that who you mean?”

His mother gasped, and his father’s expression tightened, but neither spoke.

“You don’t get to lecture me about responsibility,” Ethan continued, his voice laced with venom. “You’ve always cared more about appearances, about power, than about people. Albert was worth more than all of you combined, and you didn’t even have the decency to give him a proper burial.”

The room was silent, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air. Ethan’s chest heaved as he glared at them, his fury unchecked.

“I will never forgive you for what you did to him,” he said, his voice quieter but no less firm. “Never.”

Without waiting for a response, he turned and strode out of the room, his footsteps echoing through the grand halls of the mansion.

This time, no one tried to stop him.