His Father, My Master

Fractures

Ethan

The bathroom mirror stared back at him, fractured from the punch he had thrown into it minutes ago. His knuckles bled, crimson smearing across the white marble sink.

He saw his reflection in shards — broken, jagged, mocking him. The dinner, Anna’s tears, her father’s disgust, the whispers of betrayal echoing in every corner of the Westfield estate. And worst of all: his father’s hand at his throat. His father’s voice, calm, merciless, humiliating him in front of everyone.

And Lila.

Lila in black, silent, watching it all.

He slammed his fist against the counter, sending pain screaming up his arm. “He thinks he’s won,” Ethan muttered, eyes wild. “But he hasn’t. Not yet.”

Anna might never forgive him, her father might cancel the deal — but there were other ways. Ethan knew people, the kind of men who didn’t care about contracts and boardrooms. If his father wanted war, Ethan would give it to him. Blood for blood.

And maybe, just maybe, he’d take Lila back — if only to rip her from his father’s hands.

⸻

Lila

That night, Damian’s study was cloaked in shadow. The fire burned low in the hearth, casting sharp light across his face. He sat behind the desk, composed as always, while she paced like a trapped animal.

“You humiliated him,” she said finally, voice tight. “In front of everyone.”

Damian’s gaze lifted from the papers on his desk. “Yes.”

Her hands curled into fists. “You wanted me there — to watch him break.”

“You needed to see it,” he corrected softly. “See what he truly is. So you don’t ever confuse him with a man who deserves loyalty again.”

Her throat ached. “And what about me? What am I in all this? A weapon? A reminder? A game piece in your war?”

He stood, circling the desk slowly, his presence wrapping around her like a noose. “You are more than that, Lila. You are the reason he bleeds. The reason he falls. And when he comes crawling back to reclaim what he thinks is his…” He brushed a finger under her chin, lifting her gaze to his. “…you’ll be the proof that everything he touches rots.”

Her pulse raced, torn between fear and the dark, magnetic pull of his power. “And if he fights back?” she whispered.

Damian’s lips curved into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Then he learns what it means to fight me. And he loses.”

But as Lila met his gaze, a chill slid down her spine. Because somewhere, deep down, she knew Ethan wouldn’t stop. He was too proud, too wounded, too dangerous now.

And when the war truly came, she wasn’t sure if she’d survive standing between them.

Ethan

The nightclub’s private booth reeked of whiskey and smoke. Ethan leaned forward, his tie loosened, eyes sharp despite the alcohol coursing through his veins. Across from him sat two men — men he normally wouldn’t dare associate with. Men who solved problems with knives, not contracts.

He laid a folder on the table. “My father thinks he’s untouchable,” he said, voice low, dangerous. “But no one’s untouchable. I want his shipments intercepted, his accounts frozen, his name dragged through the mud.”

One of the men flipped through the documents — financial statements, insider leads, Damian’s weak points buried deep. “This’ll cost,” he grunted.

Ethan smirked bitterly. “Money is the only thing I have left. Take it. Just get it done.”

But then his smile faltered, his eyes darkening. “And there’s something else. A woman. Lila. She’s part of this. He’s using her against me.” His voice shook with rage. “Bring her to me. She belongs to me.”

The men exchanged glances. One raised a brow. “Kidnap?”

Ethan’s jaw clenched. “No. A correction.”

⸻

Lila

Damian’s study smelled of leather and smoke. He sat in his chair, papers spread before him, calm as ever. But Lila could feel the storm brewing behind his eyes.

“He’s moving,” Damian said without looking up.

Her breath caught. “Ethan?”

“Yes.” Damian slid a document across the desk — a bank report showing unusual transfers. “He’s desperate enough to crawl into the gutter. He’ll strike at my business first, thinking money is my weakness.” Damian looked up, his gaze hard. “He’s wrong.”

Lila hugged her arms around herself. “And me? What about me?”

Damian rose, coming to stand in front of her. His hand brushed her cheek, not gently but with the weight of possession. “You are his obsession, Lila. His final tether. Which makes you the blade I’ll use to cut him down.”

Her chest tightened. “And if he comes for me?”

Damian’s eyes darkened, his voice dropping to a growl. “Then he dies.”

⸻

Ethan

Back in the booth, Ethan’s hand shook as he poured another drink. In his mind, his father’s grip tightened on his throat again. In his mind, Lila’s black dress burned into his vision, her silence screaming louder than any word.

This wasn’t just business anymore. This was personal.

He raised the glass, his smile twisted and bitter. “Let him think he’s the puppet master. By the time I’m done, he’ll choke on his own strings.”

And beneath his breath, he added one vow — cold, final, unshakable:

“Lila will be mine again. No matter what it takes.”

Ethan

The phone buzzed at 3 a.m., dragging him out of a restless half-sleep. He answered before the second ring.

“It’s done,” the voice said. “One of your father’s shipments never made it to port. By morning, his partners will start asking questions.”

Ethan sat up in bed, heart racing. “And the accounts?”

“We’ve got them frozen through intermediaries. He’ll wake up and find his empire choking.”

A smile spread across Ethan’s face — sharp, cruel, hungry. At last. A blow landed. His father, the man who humiliated him, would taste weakness for the first time in years.

“And the girl?” Ethan asked, voice lower now.

There was a pause. “We’re watching her. Waiting for the right moment.”

Ethan’s fingers dug into the sheets. The image of Lila — in black, eyes wide at the dinner — burned in his mind. She wasn’t just leverage. She wasn’t just bait. She was the one thing his father had that should have been his.