e pushed past him into the room, her expression a calculated mix of contrition and affection. "Ethan, baby, we need to talk," she said, her voice soft and low. She tr

er the expensive furniture. "This is nice," she murmured. "We could have this.

pleading look vanished. "Don't be a fool, Ethan. You're throwing away everything because your ego is bruised. You need me. You need the restaurant." The argument esca

into the canvas bag he was carrying. The bag fell, and his custom-made chef's knives, a gift from his

ad written last night after calling the lawyer. He didn't hand it to her. He dropped it at her feet, right next to the scattered knives. "I'm done, Olivia," h

towards Ethan. It was a clumsy, obvious piece of acting, but he committed to it, letting out a grunt as his shoulder

d!" She pulled out her phone. "I'm calling the police. You'll have an assault charge on your record. You'll see what happens when you cross us." The sheer, venomous fictio

r ear. Her face went pale. "What? Now? Both of them?" Her voice was a panicked whisper. "Don't let them in! Stall them!" She hung up, her eyes wide with fear. "It's