CHAPTER TWO

"What on earth are you talking about?" Caleb Monroe said underneath his breath.

He jumped to his feet.

Granny Rosa who thought she was in a trance rushed up to her. "What on earth did you say?".

"Ethan Whitmore is alive". She brought out her phone. "Should I dial him so you would see for yourself?" She dialed his number and Granny Rosa snatched the phone and placed on her ear.

"Hello?".

He sighed. "Granny Rosa, how have you been?".

Caleb snatched the phone from Granny Rosa. "Hello, are you Ethan Whitmore?".

"You must be the asshole who is sleeping with my wife ".

"Can we meet?".

"Come to Barvado restaurant. You don't need to come with Lauren or Granny Rosa". He disconnected the line.

Lauren panicked. "Are you sure this is safe for you, alone?".

"You think he will kill me?"

"Ethan doesn't look like the Ethan I used to know. Now he looks so obsessive and power driven I am really scared, Caleb ".

He kissed her on her forehead. "I will be fine Lauren. I promise".

He left them.

***

Caleb stepped into the quiet luxury of the rooftop suite Ethan had described.

The place smelled like black cedar and wealth. He adjusted the cuff of his deep navy blazer, every inch of him polished and prepared—but nothing prepared him for the man who sat by the balcony with a steaming cup of espresso in his hand.

Ethan Whitmore.

Lauren had sent Caleb a photo on I*******m.

Red hair, too handsome for his own good, she'd said. Caleb had imagined someone older, worn out by time and trauma. But the man before him looked...young. Too young. Like he hadn’t aged a day. His charm was subtle, cold even, the kind that came from being born into something powerful.

He didn’t even flinch when Caleb walked in.

Instead, Ethan scrolled lazily through his phone, legs crossed, sunlight catching the sleek watch on his wrist. The silence stretched—long enough to make Caleb feel like an intruder in the life he’d built with Lauren.

“I’m here,” Caleb announced, trying not to sound too tense.

Ethan didn’t look up. “Welcome,” he said, flatly.

Then, slowly, his eyes met Caleb’s. The stare was cold and unreadable.

“You were the one sleeping with my wife while I was gone, right?”

It wasn’t a question. It was a quiet insult.

He took a sip of his drink, unbothered. “What are you?”

Caleb blinked. “What am I?”

Ethan didn’t let up. “Yeah. What the hell do you do for a living?”

There was no emotion in his voice. Just disgust wrapped in composure.

Caleb straightened. “I run NovaCorp Innovations. We work in AI development, crypto security, real estate blockchain, and media technology.”

Ethan’s expression shifted slightly.

He set down his cup.

“That’s quite the empire,” he said slowly, studying Caleb now. “NovaCorp... That wouldn't happen to be backed by Monroe Holdings, would it?”

Caleb hesitated, eyes narrowing. “That’s my father's company.”

“Right,” Ethan murmured. He leaned forward, elbows on the table, eyes locked on Caleb now. “Out of curiosity... where was your father on the 16th of August, three years ago? Around the time of the Los Angeles industrial fire?”

Caleb frowned. “Why are you asking?”

“No reason,” Ethan said casually. “Just that I’ve been digging into that fire. It wasn’t accidental. A lot of people were competing for that defense tech contract that year. Including Monroe Holdings.”

A long silence settled.

Caleb didn’t answer.

Ethan sat back. “I work in rare earth metals, private defense technology, and old real estate. Blackspire Global. Maybe you’ve heard of it.”

Caleb’s jaw tightened slightly.

He had heard of it. Everyone in his world had.

And just like that, the air thickened with rivalry neither of them dared to name out loud.

Caleb swallowed hard, his words faltering. Something about Ethan’s presence—his calm, unshakable confidence—was killing his own. A sharp fear began to form in his chest.

He forced himself to speak. “Let’s cut to the chase,” he said, his voice steadier than he felt. “I came here because I wanted to convince you of one thing: your wife—Lauren—loves me now, not you.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a velvet box. He opened it and slid the ring onto the table between them.

“I want to put this ring on her finger.”

Ethan stared at it for a beat, then burst into laughter—low, villainous, almost amused. He picked up his drink again and sipped.

“You don’t have to waste your time,” he said calmly.

Caleb stiffened. “What can I do to convince you to divorce her?”

Ethan’s expression didn’t change. “I’d advise you, instead, to leave her alone.”

“Advise me?” Caleb echoed, eyes narrowing.

Ethan’s lip curled into a cold smile. “CEO of NovaCorp Innovations... having an affair with a married woman. That’s quite a headline.”

He chuckled again and took another sip, relaxed, as if none of this truly threatened him.

Caleb’s glare sharpened. “Are you threatening me right now? She’ll divorce you soon.”

“We both have money,” Ethan said, setting the glass down with a light clink. “You can afford the best lawyers to fight me when I delay the divorce. But can you help her with Granny Rosa?”

That stopped Caleb for a second.

He tried to play it cool. “Granny Rosa will support me. Besides, Lauren isn’t a child. She knows what she wants.”

Ethan leaned in, his gaze like steel. “Why do you sound like you’re trying to convince yourself?”

Caleb forced a grin. “If your wife really loved you, she would have been thrilled to know you were alive. But what did she do? She threatened divorce immediately.” He laughed. “That says everything.”

Ethan didn’t flinch. “I’ve known Lauren since she was a teenager. You met her what—two years ago? Maybe less. Let me tell you something, Caleb. Lauren Whitmore is guilty. Guilty that she slept with you. That’s why she’s filing for divorce. My presence reminds her of the truth. Her shame. She would rather disappear into your arms than face me with the guilt written all over her.”

“Prove it,” Caleb snapped.

Ethan gave a lazy shrug. “I don’t have to. She’ll prove it herself.”

Caleb grit his teeth. “The U.S. court doesn’t need your consent for a divorce.”

Ethan smirked. “We’ll see about that.”

Caleb’s jaw clenched. He turned and stormed out, the sound of Ethan’s quiet laughter echoing behind him.

***

Ethan stood by the window, arms crossed, eyes distant. His father—Raymond Whitmore—sat on one of the leather chairs, sipping a dark blend of scotch. There was a knowing silence between them, one that had built for months.

“I still remember the day I found out,” Ethan said at last, voice low. “I walked into the house and they were both sitting like they had been waiting for me all day. Uncle Jerome and Aunt Teresa. Just sitting there.”

Raymond looked at him, guilt shadowing his tired eyes.

“They told me everything. That I wasn’t their son. That I belonged to someone else. To you.” Ethan’s voice cracked slightly. “One year into my marriage. Everything I believed about myself—gone.”

“I wanted to tell you sooner,” Raymond said calmly. “But things weren’t safe. Not for you. Not for anyone.”

Ethan turned sharply. “And showing up at one of your industries to demand the truth was the last thing I ever thought I’d do. Then boom—fire.”

Raymond’s expression darkened. “I still stand on it that the fire was no accident.”

“You had enemies. Big ones. That deal you were about to sign—four other bidders were furious when we landed it. One of them being the Monroe family.”

Raymond’s eyes sharpened. “Jonathan Monroe?”

“Yeah.” Ethan took a slow sip. “Your old rival in weapons and defense contracts. The man who built his empire from the shadows.”

“I wouldn’t put it past him.”

“I’m not directly accusing him,” Ethan said firmly. “But something Caleb Monroe said the other day triggered my gut. The way he spoke about Lauren... it was too personal. And when I asked him what he does for a living... he said defense tech, crypto, media... exactly the areas where Jonathan made his old money. It’s almost like Caleb’s empire is a polished extension of his father’s dark legacy.”

Raymond nodded. “You think Jonathan used the fire to take you and me out of the picture? To let his son rise?”

“Maybe. Or maybe someone else did. I’m not narrowing it down yet. But I know one thing—Caleb’s father gained everything the moment we went silent.”

Raymond leaned forward. “So what’s your next move?”

Ethan looked up, eyes cold but steady. “I’m watching. Quietly. If Jonathan had anything to do with that fire... I’ll know. And if he dares try to touch Lauren—” Ethan’s voice slowed to a razor-edge—“I won’t just fight him in court. I’ll burn down everything he built.”

***

Lauren ate in silence, barely tasting the grilled steak and steamed vegetables on her plate. Across from her, Granny Rosa stole glances at her between quiet bites, the weight of unspoken thoughts heavy in the room.

Tears shimmered in Granny Rosa’s eyes. Her voice trembled.

“I remember coming home from work and finding you fast asleep. So peaceful. So healthy. You were happy back then, Lauren... because you had a family who helped you forget the way your parents died.”

Lauren’s fork froze midway to her mouth. Her throat tightened.

“Granny Rosa, please... let’s not go back there. I know where this is going. You want to talk about Ethan’s parents again. But that’s the past.”

Granny Rosa’s voice cracked.

“They weren’t just the past, child. They were our memory. The reason your childhood in Los Angeles was beautiful.”

Lauren blinked back her own tears.

“I’m going to divorce Ethan.”

Granny Rosa slammed her palm softly on the table.

“You definitely will not!”

Lauren raised her voice.

“I will, Granny Rosa! I love Caleb! I really do!”

“Come back to your senses!” Granny Rosa shouted, her voice raw. “Ethan is our family!”

Lauren’s hands shook as she clenched her napkin.

“Caleb was there for me when I thought Ethan died. I was broken, Granny Rosa. If Caleb hadn’t stepped in, I... I don’t think I’d be alive today.”

Granny Rosa sobbed.

“You had me, Lauren. You had me! We mourned him together—night after night! But you only remember what Caleb did.”

Lauren’s eyes fell. Her voice dropped to a whisper.

“I love him, Granny Rosa. I love Caleb.”

Her phone lit up on the table.

Ethan.

She looked at her grandmother, breath shaky.

“It’s Ethan.”

She answered the call, voice barely steady.

“Hello?”

His tone was calm. Almost too calm.

“Meet me at the same place we met yesterday. I’ve made my decision. I’ll grant you the divorce.”