Abandoned King Gives No Mercy: Hell Will Burn

Cracks in the Armor

Chapter Nine: Cracks in the Armor

The mind is a strange thing. You can convince it of anything that you’re fine, that you’re in control, that nothing touches you anymore.

Until something… or someone, proves you wrong.

It started small. A glance that lingered too long, a laugh that stayed in my head hours after she was gone.

Yvonne had a way of making silence feel less heavy. I didn’t like it.

I’d built my life on quite the kind that didn’t need noise or company. And now she was there, disrupting it without even trying.

We were supposed to meet for a brand partnership shoot that morning. I got there early, like I always did. The room was all light and glass too bright for my liking. Derrick was already there, leaning against a table, scrolling through his phone.

“Look who finally decided to fall in love,” he said without looking up.

I frowned. 

“What are you talking about?”

He smirked.

 “Come on, Ethan. The way you look at her it’s almost romantic. And that’s saying a lot, coming from you.”

I stared at him. 

“You’re imagining things.”

He shrugged.

 “Maybe. Or maybe the great Ethan Hank’s finally growing a heart.”

His tone was light, but there was something sharp underneath it. A bitterness I hadn’t heard before.

“She’s a business partner,” 

I said flatly.

“Right,” Derrick said, finally meeting my eyes. “A beautiful woman you spend every other night with in public, who looks at you like she actually sees something worth caring about. Sure, Ethan. Business.”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to.

He smiled the kind of smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

 “Just be careful, old friend. You know what happens when you start mixing feelings with ambition.”

I wanted to say something, but before I could, Yvonne walked in.

And the room changed.

She wore something simple, white blouse, soft curls, barely any makeup but somehow she still looked like the center of the world. The photographer and crew turned immediately, voices lifting, the air shifting like gravity had moved toward her.

She smiled when she saw me.

 “You’re early.”

“Always am,”

 I said, trying to sound casual.

Derrick’s eyes flicked between us. He smiled again, but this time I saw it for what it was, raw and unmasked.

“Break a leg, lovebirds,” he said lightly before walking out.

The shoot went fine. More than fine. We moved like we’d been doing this for years, her hand on my arm, my gaze steady on hers, the world fading in the background.

“Closer,” the photographer said. “Perfect. Now, eyes on each other. That’s it.”

I wasn’t acting anymore. Not really. For a few seconds, I forgot there was a camera at all.

Her eyes were soft, searching. There was something in them: warmth, trust, maybe even danger. And I knew then that I was in trouble.

Because for the first time in years, someone looked at me and didn’t see the man I’d built. She saw the one I used to be the one I’d buried.

When the shoot ended, I needed air.

Outside, I leaned against the car, trying to steady my breathing. The city was loud, alive. I wasn’t.

“Ethan,” 

her voice came from behind me.

I turned. She looked unsure, hesitant.

 “You okay?”

I nodded.

 “Yeah. Just needed a minute.”

She studied me for a moment, then stepped closer. “You don’t have to keep pretending you’re made of stone, you know.”

I almost laughed. “And what would I be if I stopped?”

“Human,” she said softly.

That word hit harder than it should’ve.

Before I could reply, her phone buzzed. She checked it, her face shifting slightly.

 “It’s my agent,” she murmured.

 “Apparently, someone’s leaking stories about me again.”

I straightened immediately. “What kind of stories?”

“Nothing solid yet,” she said, forcing a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “But they’re saying I’m only with you for the publicity. That I’m using you.”

“Let them talk,” I said firmly. “You owe no one an explanation.”

She looked at me, eyes glossy under the light. 

“You really believe that?”

“I have to,” I said. “It’s the only way I survived.”

She didn’t say anything else. Just nodded and looked away. But the silence between us wasn’t empty, it was full of everything we didn’t know how to say.

Later that evening, Derrick showed up at my office. Uninvited.

He had that look again, the half-grin, half-glare that didn’t fool me anymore.

 “You’re getting soft, Ethan,”

 he said, dropping into a chair without being asked.

“I don’t remember asking for your opinion.”

“You never do,” he said, swirling the drink he’d brought himself. “But you should start listening. The girl’s a distraction.”

I looked up slowly.

 “Her name is Yvonne.”

He raised an eyebrow. “See? That’s what I mean. You’re already defending her.”

“She’s part of a deal. Everyone should understand that.”

“Sure,” Derrick said, leaning back. “But are you sure she understands that? Because the way she looks at you, I’d say she’s starting to forget it’s fake.”

I clenched my jaw. “That’s none of your concern.”

“Oh, but it is,” he said, standing now. “Because when this blows up you'll take me down with you.”

His words hung in the air like smoke.

I stood slowly.

 “Careful, Derrick. You’re forgetting who put you where you are.”

He smiled thinly. 

“And you’re forgetting who helped you get there.”

We stared at each other for a long second. The friendship that once built us was now cracking and we both knew it.

When he finally left, the silence in the room was deafening.

I stayed late that night. I told myself I was working, but I hadn’t typed a single word in hours. I just sat there, staring at my reflection in the window.

The man who looked back didn’t seem like me anymore. There was a softness in his eyes a dangerous kind of softness.

I thought of Yvonne again her voice, her strength, the way she hid her pain behind grace. I thought of Derrick’s warning, Sally’s message, the weight of everything I’d tried to bury.

Love wasn’t part of the plan. It never was.

And yet, somehow, the thought of her walking away felt heavier than it should’ve.

I leaned back, closing my eyes. The city buzzed outside, but all I could hear was her voice from earlier.

“You don’t have to keep pretending you’re made of stone.”

Maybe she was right.

Maybe I wasn’t stone anymore.

Maybe I was just a man, standing in the ruins of his own walls, watching something real slip quietly through the cracks.