The Senator’s Shadow

The night was heavy with silence. The fire in the hearth had burned low, leaving only faint embers glowing like tired eyes. Olivia sat stiffly on the edge of the sofa, her hands clenched so tightly that her knuckles turned white. She could still see Ethan’s blood in her memory, the way his body had looked when he returned wounded, his breath ragged and his eyes, changed.

He had fallen asleep upstairs now, his wounds cleaned and dressed. She had insisted he rest, even when her heart had screamed with a hundred questions. For once, Ethan hadn’t argued. He had only taken her hand in his, whispered her name, and closed his eyes.

Olivia hadn’t followed him. She had stayed behind, too afraid of what she might learn if she pressed too hard, too quickly. Her mind was still caught on Rachel’s betrayal, Jessica’s laughter echoing, and the words Rachel had whispered before fleeing,”Her father is not what you think.”

Her father.

Olivia shivered.

She rose and crossed the dim living room, her bare feet soft against the rug. The house was too quiet. Every sound seemed sharp, the ticking clock, the creak of wood, the faint whistle of wind. She poured herself a glass of water, her hands shaking so badly she spilled half of it on the counter.

She told herself she was tired. That was all. But deep down, she knew the storm was only beginning.

It was nearly dawn when the phone rang.

Olivia jumped, her heart leaping into her throat. The sound was sharp, shrill, as though the walls themselves were warning her. She grabbed the phone quickly, worried Ethan might wake.

“Hello?” her voice cracked.

A pause. Then a deep male voice answered, slow and steady:

“Olivia. It’s time you knew the truth.”

She froze. The voice was familiar, distant yet recognizable.

“Who is this?” she whispered.

A dry chuckle. “Your father. But not the one you think you know.”

The line clicked dead before she could speak again.

Olivia stood trembling, the phone pressed to her ear, staring at nothing. Her father had always been a distant figure, cold and strict. He had paid her school fees, appeared at birthdays with polite gifts, but never warmth. He was a man of order, a man who hated questions.

But this…,this felt like a stranger wearing her father’s voice.

By midmorning, she was sitting across from Ethan in the kitchen. He looked pale but stronger. His shirt was unbuttoned halfway, bandages visible beneath. She wanted to reach across the table, to touch him, but she forced her hands to stay still.

He watched her with wary eyes. “You’re hiding something.”

She swallowed. “I got a call. From… him.”

Ethan stiffened. “Your father?”

“Yes.” She nodded, her voice low. “He said… it’s time I knew the truth.”

Ethan leaned back, his jaw tightening. “Then he’s finally showing his hand.”

Olivia’s stomach flipped. “What do you mean?”

He didn’t answer right away. He stared at the wall, lost in thought, before finally saying: “Your father paid someone. To threaten me. To keep me away from you. He thought he was protecting you.”

Her breath caught. “No… that can’t be true.”

“It is,” Ethan said firmly. His eyes softened as he looked at her. “Olivia, that night when the first attack happened, it wasn’t random. I knew someone had been sent. But I didn’t know who until much later. It was your father. He thought I was dangerous. He thought I’d ruin you.”

She pressed her hands to her mouth. Tears stung her eyes. Her father..,her own father, had hired someone to hurt Ethan?

“Why would he do that?” she whispered.

“Because he knows about the vow,” Ethan said darkly. “He knows more than he ever told you.”

That evening, Olivia demanded answers in person. She left Ethan resting and drove to her father’s estate, a sprawling mansion set back from the city, guarded by iron gates and stone walls.

The guards let her through when they saw her. Inside, the halls were cold and polished, lined with paintings of ancestors who looked down at her with disapproving eyes. She found her father in his study, as always, surrounded by books and files.

“Olivia,” he said without looking up. His voice was calm, measured. “I wondered when you’d come.”

Her chest burned with anger. “Did you pay someone to hurt Ethan?”

Her father finally looked at her. His eyes were hard, calculating, but not surprised.

“Yes,” he said simply.

The word hit her like a blade.

“You admit it?” she whispered.

“I did it to save you,” he said, rising from his chair. “You don’t understand, Olivia. Ethan is not who you think he is. The families… the blood vow… it’s poison. I’ve spent my life trying to shield you from it.”

She shook her head violently. “By trying to kill the man I love?”

His jaw tightened. “Better a wound than a grave.”

She staggered back. “You sound just like Jessica. Twisted.”

Her father’s face darkened. “Do not compare me to that girl. Her family ruined everything long ago. Her father, Senator Whitlock is the reason we are all cursed.”

The name struck Olivia like thunder. Jessica’s father. A senator. A man with power and a past.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

Her father turned away, his shoulders heavy. “He buried the truth. Paid for silence. And now Jessica carries his sins like fire. She will burn us all if we don’t stop her.”

Olivia’s hands trembled. “And Ethan? What about him?”

Her father faced her again, his expression unreadable. “If Ethan stays in your life, you will die. That is the only truth I can give you.”

Olivia drove back with her heart in pieces. She couldn’t breathe. Her father had admitted to ordering threats, to playing with lives as if they were pawns. But he had also spoken of Jessica’s father, the senator, as if he were the devil himself.

Back at the house, Ethan was waiting on the porch. He stood slowly when he saw her, wincing from his wounds, but his eyes, those storm dark eyes, softened.

She ran to him. She didn’t mean to, but her body moved before her mind could stop it. She threw her arms around him, holding him so tightly that her nails dug into his skin.

He caught her, pulling her close, whispering against her hair,”You don’t have to tell me. I know.”

She pulled back just enough to look at him, her tears wetting her cheeks. “Ethan… my father… he admitted it.”

“I know,” Ethan said gently. He touched her face, his thumb brushing her skin. “But Olivia, I don’t blame you. I never blamed you.”

Something inside her broke and mended at the same time. She kissed him then, desperate and trembling, tasting her tears and his warmth.

The kiss deepened, turned raw, and before she knew it, they were inside, pressed against the wall, their hands pulling at clothes, their breaths ragged. For once, the world fell silent, the vows, the lies, the fathers, the shadows, none of it mattered. Only him. Only her.

They found the bed in a rush of tangled limbs, and Ethan made her forget everything except the way his body moved against hers, the way his lips claimed her, the way he whispered her name as though it was the only word he had ever known. She clung to him, desperate, hungry, alive.

It was not gentle. It was fierce, as though they were fighting for their love with every touch, every breath. When it was over, she lay against him, her heart racing, her body trembling, her soul raw but whole.

For the first time, she believed Ethan was innocent.

Morning came too soon. Olivia stirred, reaching for Ethan, but the bed beside her was empty.

Her heart lurched. She sat up quickly, scanning the room. His clothes were gone. His bandages, too. A note lay on the pillow, written in Ethan’s hand,

I will end this before it ends us. Trust me.

Her hands shook as she read it again and again.

She heard movement outside and rushed to the window.

A black car was pulling away from the house. Inside, through the tinted glass, she caught a glimpse, her father, and beside him, Jessica’s father, the senator.

And Ethan.

Bound between them.

Olivia’s scream shattered the morning air.