Buried in shame. Rising in power

CHAPTER THREE — The Man the World Lost

The apartment was shaking.

Not from the footsteps—but from the fear in Mia’s chest. Every thud from the stairwell vibrated through the thin walls, growing louder, heavier, more coordinated. These were not petty criminals. These were soldiers.

Elite ones.

Ethan stood in front of Mia, perfectly still, as if the chaos outside were a familiar language only he could translate. His eyes were sharp, calculating, scanning every shadow as if mapping exits only he could see.

“Stay behind me,” he said again, voice low and steady.

Mia swallowed. “Ethan… this isn’t normal. None of this is normal. Who are these men?”

He gave no answer—not because he didn’t want to, but because time had run out.

The door burst open like an explosion.

Twelve masked operatives flooded in, moving with ruthless precision. They formed a half-circle, weapons drawn, boxing Ethan and Mia against the far wall.

Their leader stepped forward—a broad-shouldered man with a scar running from brow to cheek, slicing through one cold, dead eye. His expression held no hesitation, only recognition.

“Ethan Cole,” he said. “Your exile ends tonight.”

Mia stiffened.

Ethan didn’t even flinch.

“Didn’t think you’d find me this fast,” Ethan murmured.

“You didn’t exactly make it hard,” the leader replied. “Your presence at the Dawson gala triggered three facial-recognition sweeps. Your father has been alerted.”

Mia heard the word like a slap.

Father?

Ethan had never spoken about family. Not once in their three years of marriage.

She tugged at Ethan’s sleeve. “Ethan… what is he talking about? Exile? Recognition? What is happening?”

He didn’t answer.

Because answering required telling her the truth—and the truth was a war she wasn’t ready for.

The operatives moved.

The first man lunged.

Ethan reacted like lightning. He grabbed Mia by the waist, pushed her back, and intercepted the attacker mid-strike. The apartment filled with the sound of bone hitting plaster as Ethan slammed the man into the wall.

Two more rushed him.

Ethan twisted, kicking one in the knee—shattering it—before flipping the second over his shoulder with graceful brutality. They crashed onto the coffee table, splintering it into jagged pieces.

Mia gasped, covering her mouth with trembling fingers. She had never seen Ethan like this. Calm. Deadly. Controlled. Every movement was precision, every strike calculated to disable, not kill.

“Ethan—” she whispered.

His eyes softened just slightly, but his voice remained firm. “Get to the window, Mia.”

But Mia couldn’t move—not when the man she loved had become a stranger before her eyes.

The scarred leader watched Ethan fight, his expression unchanged. “Three years in hiding,” he said, “and you haven’t lost your edge. Your father will be pleased.”

“Don’t speak about him,” Ethan growled.

The leader smirked. “You’ll face him soon enough.”

Two more operatives charged. Ethan whirled, catching one by the wrist and wrenching the weapon free. The metal clattered to the ground. He elbowed the second in the ribs, knocking him breathless.

But then a new sound cut through the chaos.

A gun being cocked.

The leader had drawn his weapon.

“Stand down, Young Master,” the man ordered. “You’ve caused enough trouble.”

The phrase struck Mia like ice.

Young Master?

Ethan froze—not in fear, but in pure, razor-sharp anger.

There were only two people in the world who could call him that.

And he hated both.

“Mia,” Ethan whispered without looking back, “go. Now.”

She took one step toward the window, tears filling her eyes.

“I won’t leave you.”

He turned, blood splattered across one sleeve, breathing hard but steady. “You have to. Mia… please.”

That single word—please—was enough to break her heart.

The leader raised his gun.

Ethan moved instantly, tackling Mia toward the window as the shot rang out. The bullet grazed his side, tearing through flesh. Blood spurted across the wall.

“Ethan!” Mia cried.

He winced but didn’t stop moving. He shoved her out onto the fire escape, shielding her body with his own as more bullets tore through the apartment.

Alarms in the building blared. Neighbors screamed down the hall.

“Keep your head down,” Ethan commanded, grabbing the railing as they descended.

But as they reached the bottom of the fire escape, three black SUVs screeched into the alley, blocking every exit.

Doors swung open simultaneously.

A dozen men in sleek black suits stepped out—nothing like the masked operatives above. These men radiated power, wealth, and lethal intent. Their formation was disciplined, coordinated, military-level.

And from the middle SUV, a tall, handsome man stepped out, adjusting his tie. His hair was neatly slicked back, and his eyes held a chilling mixture of respect and calculation.

He looked at Ethan, and for a moment, the entire alley fell silent.

“Young Master,” the man said smoothly. “It’s time to come home.”

Mia’s heart nearly stopped.

Home.

Ethan’s entire body tensed, not with relief—but with dread.

“I’m not going back,” Ethan said through clenched teeth.

The man’s smile faded. “Your father insists.”

Ethan stepped in front of Mia protectively. “I don’t care what he insists.”

The man’s eyes slid to Mia. Cold. Assessing.

“Your father also gave a second order,” he said quietly.

Ethan’s jaw twitched. “Don’t say it.”

“If your wife interferes…”

The man paused deliberately.

“…she is to be eliminated.”

Mia’s breath hitched sharply.

The masked operatives above finally reached the fire escape, guns drawn. The suited men below raised theirs in response. The alley vibrated with the tension of two opposing factions—both powerful, both dangerous, both claiming Ethan.

Ethan stood in the middle, bleeding, breath heavy, eyes blazing like a storm.

And then, slowly, he spoke—voice deadly calm.

“Touch her,” he whispered, “and I’ll burn the entire Dominion to the ground.”

The alley dropped into absolute silence.

The men above froze.

The men below stiffened.

And Mia realized—

This was no ordinary threat.

It was a promise.