the gazelle state

Chapter 10: Behind the Masks

After Adam left under the weight of his brother's murderous gaze, Ethan could no longer bear to stay in that office or within the suffocating walls of the company. He left the building with rapid, heavy strides, ignoring his employees, and drove toward the edge of the city where a deserted beach stretched out into the darkness.

​When he arrived, he stepped out of his car and stood staring at the horizon where the sky bled into the sea. The cold air whipped against his face, but he felt nothing; his mind was entirely consumed by that look in Rachel’s eyes and the laughter that Adam had snatched from her in an instant. He sighed deeply, trying to gather his scattered thoughts. A rage boiled within him, but this time it wasn’t directed at Gazelle or the deception; it was a rage at himself, at his weakness before Rachel, and at the jealousy that tore at his heart when he saw Adam touch her. He whispered to the roar of the waves, a voice barely audible: "What is happening to me? Am I a director who has lost his mind, or a man trying to cling to an illusion before he drowns in it?"

​Meanwhile, in her office, Rachel was in an entirely different world. Her eyes were fixed on her computer screen, but her fingers remained frozen. Ethan’s words still echoed in her ears, his burning gaze etched into her memory. A strange silence filled the office, and she drifted in a state of bewilderment and confusion.

​A deep perplexity took hold of her, making it impossible to focus on anything. Was what she saw just an illusion? Or was there a deeper truth Ethan was trying to hide behind his cruelty? She began to replay the day’s scenes: his anger when the coffee fell, his confusion when he touched her hand, then his volcanic explosion when he saw Adam holding her. She furrowed her brows and asked herself in astonishment:

— "What... could it be? Is it possible that he has fallen in love with me? Is all this aggression and cruelty nothing but jealousy? Is he jealous of everyone—of Adam, of my work, of everything?"

​A cold shiver crept into her heart. If that were true, it was a terrifying love—a love like a storm that destroys everything in its path before reaching the shore. Rachel remained lost in thought for the rest of the day, unaware of time passing, caught between the fear of her boss and the suspicion of his feelings, which were beginning to manifest in their most brutal forms.

​As the reddish-yellow lines of dusk faded, announcing the arrival of a night devoid of peace, Ethan returned to his office. He had no intention of working; he simply wanted a place to escape the ghosts of his own home. Since Adam had returned a few days ago, home had become a battlefield of bitter memories. He could not bear the complex that gnawed at his soul—watching his father pamper Adam, a level of affection he had always seen as "deserved" for Adam and "forbidden" for himself.

​Ethan lay down on the leather sofa in the office’s side room, burying his head in the cushion as memories began to play like a cinematic reel behind his closed eyes. Images of "Gazelle" invaded his mind: her rebellion, her audacity that defied the laws of gravity, and that kiss where the taste of defiance still lingered on his lips. Suddenly, the image shifted to "Rachel": her fear, the trembling of her hands, the blush of her cheeks, and her tears that fell like drops of pure rain.

​Ethan smiled for a fleeting second, a smile that vanished quickly, leaving behind only features of seriousness and brokenness. He turned on the sofa, staring at the darkened ceiling, and muttered in a voice barely more than a sigh:

— "I think I am in the stage of madness... If I don't decipher this riddle, I will surely lose my mind."

​At that moment, on the other side of the city, Rachel was walking with cautious steps toward the hospital to check on her uncle. She stood behind the glass partition, watching his pale features, and felt a profound sadness tearing at her heart. As she drifted into her silence, her body trembled, and every hair on her skin stood on end when she heard a familiar voice—a voice carrying the weight of ancient toxins. It was "Linda," her uncle’s wife.

​Linda was the nightmare that haunted Rachel. They despised each other, and Linda had always humiliated and harmed her, leaving Rachel in constant fear of her cunning. Linda approached with a cold smile, lacking even a shred of grief for her ill husband, and whispered with a sarcastic tone:

— "Rachel? You’re here to wish your uncle a long life, aren’t you?"

​Rachel nodded in silence, but Linda stared at her with a wicked gaze and added with spite:

— "Actually, I don’t wish for him to live. I’ve already gotten rid of your father and that useless mother of yours. Once I’m done with this uncle of yours, I will be the sole heir to all of the Noah family’s wealth."

​As soon as she finished her words, Rachel stepped forward with firm, steady strides. A terrifying look appeared on her face, one Linda had never seen before. Rachel smiled a chilling, frightening smile and said in a voice that made the skin crawl:

— "Hello, my dear aunt."