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She stiffens instantly, rigid, waiting for an explosion she can already feel coming.

“Ever since we started to…” I pause, holding her stare. “To have sex,” I finish, unapologetically, letting the words hang heavy between us. “All you’ve done is hold back.” I let out a humorless, clipped laugh. “Afraid I don’t want more. Afraid I’ll want others. Afraid I’ll fuck you and then walk away.”

I say it plainly, coldly, and everyone hears.

Sierra gasps. My brothers shift uneasily, caught between stepping in or staying out.

Thalia? She drowns in shame, suspended between silence and the urge to collapse, to disappear. Maybe she would defend herself if not for the scandal in the press, if not for the weight of her own guilt. But she stays quiet, tears shimmering in her eyes.

“I texted you earlier because I thought you saw the news,” I continue, irony slicing through my voice again. “I thought you saw it and ran from the office to avoid me. Thought you believed I’d blame you. Thought you’d think I believed you leaked the information about Antonia. About us…”

Us.

The word lands heavy as I speak it. Never imagined saying it like this. Never needed to.

And of course, I use it now, when it makes no sense.

“I came home thinking you’d come to Theo’s, but I gave you a few hours to calm down. To breathe.”

I watch the realization spread across her face, gradual and devastating. She pieces it all together.

And the others? Shocked, staring at this version of me they’ve never seen—because I don’t care what others feel, unless they’re family.

Except, apparently, now.

And they know I should be on the jet to Asia right now.

“But I realized earlier, right here, with everyone else,” I say, a dark laugh curling from my throat, burning and hollow, “that I don’t need to worry about you at all.”

I lock onto her gaze.

“Isn’t that right, Thalia?”

Her body trembles under my stare, the air thick with anticipation. And still, nothing manages to stop me.

“You didn’t answer my messages because you were on a fucking date.”

My voice rises, and I see Colt and Zayn take a step forward before stopping. Eyes wide, they all are watching, calculating whether to intervene.

“Ethan, I…” she tries, tears spilling, but I push off the door, the movement making her flinch backward.

But I don’t go to her.

I walk to Theo’s bar instead, pour myself a glass of whiskey, and turn slowly, letting the ice click, my back to her.

“I don’t know what exclusive means to you, Thalia,” I say, calm so fake it burns. I watch the glass, the condensation trembling slightly as I turn it in my hand. “But I assumed it meant the same to everyone.”

Another humorless laugh. Another sip.

“Ethan, please, let’s just…” she whispers, but I cut her off.

“Wasn’t I the one who didn’t want more? The one you were sure would get bored?” I ask, smiling without smile. She turns her head, as if the words strike her physically.

“You forgot to tell me we’re free to see whoever we want, do whatever the fuck we want, Thalia,” I add, my voice climbing, stripping away the pretense.

I drain the glass in a single swallow, letting the heat roll down my throat.

Right now, my phone vibrates in my pocket. Message. Email. Alerts. I ignore them all.