She Left When I Was Broke, Regretted When I Was King

CHAPTER 8: Regret Knocks First

Ethan's POV

The phone buzzed again before I could decide whether to respond.

Another message from Lena: "Please, Ethan. I need to see you."

Then another: "I'm outside your building."

Part of me wanted to ignore her. Delete the messages. Block her number and never think about her again.

But another part, the part that had loved her for eight months, that had starved itself to buy her gifts, that had believed she was different, needed to hear what she had to say.

I typed back: "I'm not at my apartment."

Three dots appeared immediately. She was typing.

"Where are you? I'll come to you."

My fingers hovered over the keyboard. Giving her this address felt wrong. Like inviting my old life into my new one. But maybe that's exactly what I needed. To face it head-on. To close that door completely.

I sent her the hotel address.

Her response came instantly: "That's the Grand Regency. Ethan, what's going on?"

"Just come. Lobby. Twenty minutes."

I didn't wait for her reply.

The closet held clothes I didn't recognize. Someone had stocked it while I was being examined. Designer shirts still wrapped in tissue paper. Pants with tags attached showing prices that made my stomach turn. A casual outfit, they'd said. Casual but appropriate for a man of my position.

I pulled on dark jeans that actually fit. A white button-down shirt that felt like wearing air. A black jacket that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe used to. Shoes that were somehow both comfortable and elegant.

The mirror showed a stranger. Same face, but cleaner. Rested, despite everything. Dressed like someone who belonged in places I'd only seen in magazines.

My phone buzzed. Lena: "I'm here."

The elevator ride down felt endless. My reflection in the polished doors looked calm. Composed. Nothing like the chaos churning in my chest.

The lobby was all marble and gold. A fountain in the center. Leather chairs arranged in conversation clusters. Staff in uniforms that looked military-precise.

Lena stood near the entrance, looking small and out of place. She wore the red dress from earlier. The one I'd loved. The one she'd been wearing when Michael's hands were on her skin.

She saw me and her eyes went wide.

I walked toward her, my new shoes silent on the marble floor.

"Ethan?" She said my name like a question. Like she wasn't sure it was really me. "What are you doing here? Did you get a job at this hotel?"

"No."

"Then why..." She looked around, confused. "Why did you tell me to meet you here?"

"Because I'm staying here."

Her laugh came out nervous. "Staying? Ethan, this place costs like five hundred dollars a night. You can't afford that."

"Can't I?"

Something in my tone made her stop. Really look at me. At my clothes. At the way I stood. At the calm on my face where panic used to live.

"What's going on?" she asked quietly.

"You said you wanted to talk."

"I do. I just." She gestured vaguely. "This is weird. You're being weird."

"How so?"

"You're different. You look different. You sound different." She stepped closer, her voice dropping. "Ethan, are you okay? After everything that happened tonight, I was worried."

"Worried." I let the word hang between us.

"Yes." Her hand reached for mine. I stepped back. Her hand fell. "I know what you saw looked bad. But it's not what you think."

"What do I think?"

"That I was cheating on you. That I chose Michael over you." Her eyes filled with tears. Real or performed, I couldn't tell anymore. "But that's not what happened. He manipulated me, Ethan. He got into my head."

"How?"

"What?"

"How did he manipulate you?" I crossed my arms. "Use specific examples."

She blinked. "I don't understand."

"You said he manipulated you. I'm asking how. What did he do? What did he say? Walk me through it."

"He, he was nice to me. He listened when I complained about work. He bought me things."

"So he treated you well and that's manipulation?"

"No, I mean." She wiped at her eyes. "He made me think you didn't care about me. He said you were always working, never had time for me. He said I deserved better."

"When did this start?"

"What?"

"When did Michael start saying these things? When did he start buying you things? Give me dates, Lena."

"I don't know exact dates. After Christmas, I think. Maybe January."

"January." I nodded slowly. "The same month I gave you eight hundred dollars for rent. The same month I worked sixteen-hour shifts so I could save up for your Valentine's gift. That January?"

Her face flushed. "I didn't ask you to do any of that."

"No, you didn't. But you took the money. You let me work myself to exhaustion. And while I was doing that, you were with my brother."

"He's not really your brother."

The words hit harder than she'd probably intended.

"You're right," I said. "He's not. But you didn't know that when you slept with him. To you, he was my brother. My family. And you didn't care."

"I did care." Her voice broke. "I do care. That's why I'm here. Ethan, I made a mistake. A terrible mistake. But we can fix this. We can start over."

"Start over."

"Yes." She moved closer again. This time I didn't step back. "Forget about tonight. Forget about Michael. It's just us. Like it used to be. We were good together, remember?"

"Were we?"

"Yes." Her hand found my arm. "You loved me. I know you did. You still do. I can see it."

I looked down at her hand. At her painted nails. At the bracelet on her wrist I'd bought her for her birthday. Seventy dollars I'd saved for two months.

"You're wrong," I said quietly.

"About what?"

"About me still loving you." I lifted my eyes to meet hers. "I don't. Not anymore."

"You're just hurt. You're angry. I understand that. But love doesn't just disappear."

"Doesn't it?" I removed her hand from my arm, gently but firmly. "Tell me something, Lena. When did you decide to come here tonight? When did you decide you wanted to start over?"

"After you left. After I had time to think about everything."

"After I left." I smiled, but it felt cold. Foreign on my face. "Or after Michael told you what happened at my parents' house?"

Her expression flickered. Just for a second.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"He called you, didn't he? Told you about the woman who showed up. Told you about Zenith Corporation. About my real family. About the money."

"Ethan, I don't care about money."

"Yes, you do." The words came out flat. Final. "That's all you've ever cared about. I just didn't have enough yet."

She stepped back like I'd slapped her. "That's not fair."

"Isn't it? You said it yourself. Michael could give you things I couldn't. Nice dinners. Vacations. Security. That's what you chose him for. Not because he manipulated you. Not because I didn't care. But because he was rich and I was poor."

"I never said that."

"You didn't have to." I turned toward the elevator. "You showed me. Tonight, when you looked at him instead of me. When you told me I was embarrassing. When you chose his money over my love."

"Wait." She grabbed my arm, harder this time. "You can't just walk away. Not after everything we've been through."

"Everything we've been through?" I looked at her hand, then at her face. "You mean everything I went through for you. While you counted down the days until someone richer came along."

"That's not true."

"Then why are you here, Lena? Really. Why now?"

She opened her mouth. Closed it. Her hand dropped from my arm.

"Because I made a mistake," she whispered.

"No." I stepped into the elevator. The doors began to close. "You made a choice. You just don't like how it turned out."

"Ethan, please."

The doors shut on her face. On her tears. On whatever else she wanted to say.

My reflection in the polished elevator walls showed that stranger again. Calm. Cold. Nothing like the boy who'd loved her yesterday.

The lobby disappeared as the elevator climbed. Through the glass walls, I could see the city spreading out below. Lights and life and possibilities I'd never imagined.

My phone buzzed. I didn't check it.

The suite felt empty when I returned. Too big. Too quiet. I stood at the windows, looking down at the street below.

A figure emerged from the hotel entrance. Lena. Small from this height. She stood on the sidewalk, looking up at the building like she could find me in one of the thousand windows.

Then she pulled out her phone. Probably calling Michael. Probably telling him I'd rejected her. That whatever plan they'd cooked up had failed.

A black SUV pulled up to the hotel entrance. Not one of Sophia's. Different. I watched it idle there, engine running.

The rear door opened.

Michael stepped out.

Even from forty floors up, I could see his face turn toward the hotel entrance. Could see him scan the building. Looking for something. Looking for me.

Another figure emerged from the lobby. One of Sophia's bodyguards. The one she'd assigned to discreet surveillance. He positioned himself near the entrance, watching Michael without appearing to.

Smart. She'd known they'd come.

Michael's head tilted back, his eyes traveling up the building's face. Floor by floor. Higher and higher.

Until he found the top floor. Found the windows where I stood.

He couldn't possibly see me from that distance. The windows were too reflective, the height too great.

But I saw him.

Saw his face, pale even from here. Saw the way his body went rigid. Saw him take a step backward like he'd been pushed.

He'd realized something. Standing there on the street, staring up at the most expensive hotel in the city, he'd understood.

His poor adoptive brother. The one who rode the bus and wore secondhand clothes and worked at Walmart.

Was standing in the penthouse suite.

Michael's hand went to his phone. He made a call. Angry gestures. Sharp movements.

Then he climbed back into his SUV.

The vehicle sat there for another minute. Two. Like he couldn't decide whether to leave or storm inside.

Finally, the SUV pulled away from the curb. Merged into traffic. Disappeared into the city night.

But I'd seen his face.

Seen the fear in it.

And something dark and satisfied settled in my chest.