Chapter 89

Ethan’s POV

The metallic clink of my Zippo lighter echoed through the living room, sharp and steady, like a drumbeat that matched the restless pounding of my thoughts. Open. Close. Open. Close. The flame barely lasted a second each time before I snapped the lid shut, but the sound filled every corner of the silent house. My hand moved automatically, more out of habit than anything, while my legs stayed crossed, and my chin rested heavily against my palm. My gaze kept drifting between the clock on the wall and the front door, as though sheer willpower could make it swing open sooner.

On the outside, I might have looked calm, collected even. The kind of man who had everything under control. But inside, that was far from the truth. Beneath my stillness, the rage inside me was bubbling, pressing hard against the surface, and I was barely keeping it from boiling over.

The maids had already sensed it. They always did. I told them to remain in the kitchen