Abandoned King Gives No Mercy: Hell Will Burn

The Ghost in the Mirror

Chapter Seven: The Ghost in the Mirror

Ethan's Pov;

I didn’t sleep much.

The city outside my window was quiet, but my mind wouldn’t shut up. The night kept replaying itself in loops, the flashes, her voice, that moment on the red carpet when Yvonne looked at me like she was trying to see through the man I’d spent years building.

It wasn’t supposed to feel like that.

It was supposed to be a simple, simple transaction. She needed her reputation back; I needed a distraction. Nothing more. But the image of her laughing softly at something Derrick said, the way she steadied her hands when she thought no one was watching it stayed with me.

I hated that it did.

I poured a cup of black coffee and sat by the window, the city skyline staring back like it was mocking me. The sun hadn’t risen yet, but the sky was starting to turn gray that in-between times when the world felt like it’s still deciding whether to wake up or not.

That was me, I guess. Still deciding.

I used to believe silence was peace. Now it just felt like a weight pressing on my chest.

My phone buzzed on the counter. Messages from my assistant confirming meetings, a few news alerts, and one from Derrick: 

“You and Yvonne killed it last night. The internet’s obsessed. Drinks later?”

I ignored it. I wasn’t in the mood for Derrick or his grin. Lately, he’d started acting like the company was a stage and he was the star. Maybe that was my fault. I'd let him play savior once.

Never again.

Another message popped up. From an unknown number.

I almost didn’t open it. Then I did.

“You still drink your coffee black. I remember.”

No name. No signature. But I knew the number.

Sally.

I stared at the screen for a long moment, my jaw tightening. My first instinct was to delete it and pretend it didn’t exist. But my hand didn’t move.

Of course she remembered. She remembered everything she’d taken, too.

Before I could stop myself, I typed back.

 “What do you want, Sally?”

The reply came almost instantly.

“To talk.”

I let out a bitter laugh. The same woman who’d watched me fall apart without blinking now wanted to talk.

I didn’t reply. I just shut the phone off and set it aside.

The past had a way of finding me, even when I’d buried it deep. And now, it was knocking again.

By nine, I was in the office. Meetings, calls, numbers, all noise to keep my mind from wandering. But it did anyway.

“Yvonne’s waiting for you,”

 my assistant said as I walked in.

I froze. 

“Waiting for me?”

“She said she wanted to discuss the next event schedule. She’s in the conference room.”

I nodded, pretending it didn’t matter, but the truth was, my heartbeat jumped, just a little.

When I stepped in, she was standing by the glass wall, looking out at the city. Same view I’d been staring at an hour ago.

“Morning,” 

I said.

She turned, smiling faintly. 

“You don’t sleep, do you?”

I shrugged. 

“Not much to sleep about.”

She chuckled softly.

 “That makes two of us.”

For a moment, there was a strange calm between us. No cameras, no noise, just quiet. Real quiet.

She looked tired, though she tried to hide it.

 “I wanted to thank you,” she said finally. “For last night. You didn’t have to be that kind. Most people in your position would’ve let me sink.”

“I don’t do kindness,” I said, maybe too quickly. “It’s just business.”

She smiled, not offended, just amused. 

“You keep saying that, but you don’t sound convinced.”

That made me look up. Her eyes were soft but steady. There was something about the way she said things gentle, but sharp enough to reach the places I thought I’d locked up.

“You don’t know me,” 

I said quietly.

“Maybe not,” she replied. “But I can tell when someone’s pretending not to care.”

For a second, I almost forgot to breathe. Then I looked away. “Pretending’s what keeps people like us alive, Yvonne.”

She didn’t answer, just nodded slowly, like she understood.

I went over the schedule, upcoming interviews, charity events, and another gala next month. She listened carefully, making small notes, but I could feel her eyes on me from time to time. Not judging. Just… watching.

When the meeting ended, she gathered her things and said,

 “You know, for someone who says he doesn’t do kindness, you have a strange way of showing it.”

And then she left.

I stood there for a long time after she was gone, staring at the empty space she’d just filled. I didn’t like how quiet the room felt without her in it.

Later that evening, I finally called Sally. Not because I wanted to, but because ignoring her felt worse.

She picked up on the second ring. Her voice hadn’t changed.

 “Ethan.”

“Sally.”

A pause. 

“You sound… different.”

“So do you,” I said. “More confident. Guess guilt ages well.”

She sighed.

 “I deserve that.”

“You deserve worse.”

There was silence. For a moment, I almost hung up. Then she said,

 “I’m sorry, Ethan. For everything. You didn’t deserve what happened.”

The words should’ve meant something. Once, they would have. Now, they just felt empty.

“Sorry doesn’t erase what you did,” I said quietly. “You let them destroy me.”

“I know,” she whispered. “I was scared. My mother…”

“Your mother didn’t sign those papers. You did.”

I didn’t realize my hands were shaking until the glass of water beside me rattled.

She went quiet again.

 “I heard about Yvonne,” she said after a while. “She’s… beautiful.”

I laughed once, bitterly. “Don’t.”

“I just want to understand, Ethan. Are you with her because you love her, or because you need to prove something?”

The question hung in the air like smoke. I didn’t answer not because I didn’t know, but because maybe I already did.

I ended the call without another word.

For a long time, I sat there, staring at my reflection in the window. I didn’t look angry. Just tired.

Yvonne’s face flashed in my mind again, her calm, her voice, her quiet strength. And somewhere deep inside, I felt something shift.

Not love. Not yet. But something that scared me just the same.

Because I’d spent years building walls, and now, one woman I barely knew was already finding the cracks.

That night, I didn’t dream of Sally. I dreamed of the red dress. Of cameras flashing. Of Yvonne standing beside me, steady, unafraid.

And when I woke, for the first time in years, the silence didn’t feel empty.

It felt like a beginning.