The invisible Groom

Chapter Two

The moment the men in suits bowed to Ethan, a heavy silence enveloped the Dawson living room, pressing in on all sides.

Vivian blinked hard, trying to process what was happening.  

Tanya stood with her mouth agape.  

Even the neighbors leaned over their balconies, whispering urgently among themselves.

Ethan didn’t move right away. He simply fixated on the man clad in black—the one who had spoken first.

"Identify yourself," Ethan demanded in a low voice.

The man instantly straightened up.  

“Commander Hale, Young Master. I head your personal security division,” he replied, his tone crisp and commanding.

Tanya recoiled at the titles he used.

Young Master?  

Commander?  

Security division?

Vivian shook her head vigorously, as if trying to dissolve a hidden nightmare.

“No, no, no. This can’t be happening. Ethan? Our Ethan?” She jutted her finger toward him, her voice rising. “The guy who can’t even pick out his own toothbrush? Are you sure you’re not at the wrong place?”

Commander Hale didn’t even register her presence.

Instead, he inclined his head once more toward Ethan.  

“We respectfully ask that you come with us. Your grandfather has requested your immediate return. Your position must not remain empty for any longer.”

An electric tension filled the air.

Ethan’s expression sharpened.  

His grandfather? The old man had kept his distance for years.

“Relay this,” Ethan replied slowly, “I’m not going back yet.”

Hale hesitated for just a heartbeat—enough for the Dawsons to catch it.

Vivian moved closer, sensing a crack in the facade.

“So he doesn’t want you, huh?” she scoffed. “Of course. Who would? You’re hardly anything special.”

Hale spun on her, his gaze icy.

“Say one more word,” he cautioned, “and I’ll see to it that you’re removed from the premises.”

Vivian froze, her bravado fading fast.

Tanya swallowed with difficulty. The authority of the men outside was palpable. Yet here stood Ethan, composed, almost disinterested.

This wasn’t the version of him they were used to.

Ethan turned slightly, casting a look back into the house.

“Vivian,” he said, his tone flat. “It would be wise to step back.”

She frowned. “Why? Because some hired goons decided to put on a show? I’m not buying it—”

Before she could finish, another sleek black car rolled up, quieter and even more luxurious than the first.

A man in a gray suit exited, carrying a metal briefcase. He made a beeline for Ethan, ignoring everyone else around.

Without a word, he opened the case and bowed.

Inside was a single object:

A black card.  

The sort of card that bore no numbers.  

The kind that belonged to those who didn’t follow the banks—rather, it was the banks that followed them.

“Sir,” the man began, “the family account associated with your authority has been reactivated. All funds are now accessible. The total available balance has been transferred to your name.”

The Dawsons leaned in slightly, anticipating a typical figure.

But the man went on:

“Your available liquid assets currently stand at 960 billion dollars.”

Vivian sank into the nearest chair.  

Tanya let out a sharp gasp.  

Even the neighbors outside became eerily quiet.  

Ethan didn’t flinch.

Instead, he simply closed the case.

“That’s enough,” Ethan stated firmly. “No more deliveries here. I’ll reach out when I’m ready.”

The men nodded and retreated to their cars, engines roaring to life.

In moments, the street was clear.  

Silence enveloped the scene.  

The Dawsons gazed at Ethan as if he were a specter.

At last, Tanya murmured, her voice trembling:

“Ethan… who exactly are you?”

Ethan met her gaze—composed, steady, unfazed.

“Someone you should have treated with respect.”