Rise Of The Belittled Billionaire.

Chapter 8

Mia was still standing at the top of the steps when the gate clicked shut.

She hadn't moved. Her eyes were fixed on the spot where Ethan had been standing, like some part of her was still waiting for him to turn around. Like the version of this moment she had written in her head  the one where he stopped walking, where his shoulders dropped, where he came back up those steps with his bag in his hand and his pride already folding  was still going to happen if she waited long enough.

It didn't happen.

The driveway was empty. The gate was closed. And the only sound was the distant rumble of a cab pulling away from the curb.

At that moment something snapped.

“How dare he.” Her voice came out low and shaking, not with sadness but with the particular kind of fury that belongs to people who are not used to being surprised. 

“How dare he just walk away like that, he was supposed to beg.”

“Mia —” Derek started.

“Don't.” She turned around sharply, and her eyes were bright in a way that had nothing soft in it. 

“Don't tell me to calm down. Don't tell me it's fine. Do you have any idea —” She stopped. Pressed her lips together. Started again. "I was going to do it. I had already decided. I had the papers drawn up last week. Last week. I was going to hand them to him before the end of the month, and instead he stands at my front door with that —” She gestured toward the gate, toward the space where he had been. 

“— with that look on his face, like he's the one who gets to end this. Like he gets to be the one who walks away.”

“Sis —”

“He beat me to it.” The words came out like they physically hurt. 

“That good-for-nothing, that ungrateful, that after everything. After four years of this family carrying him, feeding him, giving him a roof and a job and a name worth something in this city. After everything I gave up to keep him comfortable and out of his own way. He stood there and he signed those papers like he had somewhere better to be.” Her voice cracked on the last word and she pulled it back hard, straightening her spine. 

“I want every single thing of his out of this house. Today. I want it in the trash. I don't want to open a single drawer and find something that reminds me of his face. I don't want to walk past a room and think about him being in it. Everything. Gone.”

“Already done, mostly,” Jade said carefully. 

“We put his things outside before —”

“Inside too. Everything inside.” Mia turned and walked toward the door. “Go through every room. If it belongs to him, it goes. If it was a gift from him, it goes. If it just makes me think of him, it goes. I don't want a single trace of Ethan Cole left in this house by tonight.”

Derek followed her in, hands in his pockets, his mouth doing the thing it did when he was working up to saying something he thought was clever. 

“Look, honestly? Good riddance. He did us a favor. We should be celebrating.”

“He's not going to last,” Karen said firmly, settling herself back onto the sitting room couch and reaching for her tea like the morning had merely been mildly inconvenient. “That boy has never spent a day taking care of himself in his life. He has no savings, he deserves have a bank account, no plan, no prospects. Give it three days. Give it less. He'll be back at that gate with his bags and whatever is left of his dignity and he will beg.” 

“Today, probably,” Derek said, and laughed. 

“I'm serious. By tonight. He's probably sitting in that cab right now realizing he has nowhere to go.”

“And when he does come back,” Mia said, turning in the doorway, her voice dropping to something very quiet and very final, “I want you to make sure he understands something.” Her eyes were cold and completely steady. 

“I don't care how long he stands out there. I don't care if he goes down on both knees. I don't care if he cries himself empty. I will not open that door. Not for him. Not ever again.” She held the words for a moment. 

“He wanted to leave. Fine. He can stay gone.”

She walked inside.

Derek watched the door and then looked at Karen with a slow, satisfied smile spreading across his face. “Hour,” he said. “I'm betting one hour.”

They didn't have to wait an hour.

Twenty minutes later, a knock came at the front door.