Chapter 4: The First Crack in His Armor

The city glittered below the glass walls of the penthouse, a thousand lights reflecting against the night. Ava stood barefoot on the marble floor, the train of her gold gown pooling around her like melted sunlight. The gala was over, but its echoes still lingered — the murmurs, the flash of cameras, the eyes that followed her wherever she went.

She reached up to unclasp her earrings, her hands trembling slightly. Tonight had been her first time truly stepping into Ethan Blackwood’s world, and it was dazzling… but also suffocating. The people smiled with perfect teeth and hollow hearts. Every compliment hid a blade.

Behind her, she heard the soft clink of glass. Ethan was by the bar, his jacket gone, shirt unbuttoned at the collar. He poured himself a drink, the amber liquid catching the light like fire. For a moment, he didn’t speak.

“You handled tonight well,” he said finally, his voice low and steady.

“Handled?” Ava gave a small laugh that didn’t reach her eyes. “I survived.”

He turned, one brow raised. “Survival is an achievement at a Blackwood event.”

She sighed, crossing her arms. “You could’ve warned me that half the city would be watching us like a soap opera.”

“I thought you liked the spotlight.”

“I like honesty.”

The air shifted — quiet, sharp. Ethan set down his glass and walked toward her, each step measured. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Ava met his gaze. “It means you knew what you were throwing me into. Lydia was there. The woman who looked at me like she already knew how this would end.”

A muscle in his jaw flexed. “Lydia is irrelevant.”

“Then why did her name make your hand tighten on mine?”

Ethan said nothing. The silence between them stretched, thick and tense. Outside, thunder rumbled faintly — distant but approaching.

“I don’t like being lied to, Ethan,” she said softly.

His eyes darkened. “I haven’t lied to you.”

“Then what haven’t you told me?”

For a moment, he looked like he might actually answer. His lips parted — then closed again. He turned away, his voice hardening. “You don’t need to understand my past to play your part.”

Ava’s heart twisted. “My part,” she echoed bitterly. “That’s all this is to you, isn’t it? A part in your perfect performance.”

“You knew what you signed up for.”

“Maybe I didn’t realize how cold the script would be.”

He spun back to face her, eyes flashing. “Careful, Ava.”

“No,” she said, her voice rising slightly. “You don’t get to control me like one of your board meetings. I stood beside you tonight. I smiled through every whisper, every stare. I made you look like the man who had it all — but don’t act like you did me a favor.”

Ethan took a slow breath, his gaze searching her face. “You think I don’t notice the effort you make? You think I don’t see how hard you try?”

She blinked, taken aback by the intensity in his tone.

He stepped closer, so close she could smell the faint trace of his cologne — cedar and smoke. “You think I wanted this?” he murmured. “The cameras, the questions, the pretending?”

Ava’s voice softened. “Then why do it?”

His jaw tightened again. “Because sometimes power demands sacrifice.”

She frowned. “And what exactly are you sacrificing, Ethan?”

He looked away — a rare, fleeting glimpse of vulnerability flickered through his expression. “Everything that used to matter.”

The words hit harder than she expected. For the first time, she saw not the billionaire, not the untouchable figure the world worshipped, but the man underneath — burdened, haunted.

Before she could say anything, he straightened again, walls sliding back into place. “Go to bed,” he said quietly. “Tomorrow we face the board.”

Her chest ached with unspoken words. “That’s it?”

He met her gaze. “That’s enough.”

She watched him walk away, disappearing into his study, the door clicking softly behind him.

For a long moment, Ava just stood there, the silence pressing in on her. She could still feel the ghost of his nearness, the warmth of his voice when it softened. And she hated how much it affected her.

Crossing the room, she went to the window. The city stretched endlessly beneath her — bright, distant, untouchable. Just like him.

She touched the cool glass and whispered to herself, “You’re falling for a man who doesn’t believe in love.”

But even as she said it, she knew it was already too late.

Because somewhere between the lies and the luxury, Ethan Blackwood had stopped being just a name on a contract.

He had become the one man capable of breaking her heart — and he didn’t even know it.