Chapter 5 - Dawn on the Terrace
The eastern sky was just beginning to streak with pale lavender and gray when I stepped out onto the marble terrace of the Moretti estate. Ethan's suit jacket was still wrapped around my shoulders, the oversized sleeves rolled up twice over my wrists. Inside the grand mansion, everything was silent—no servants stirring yet, no phones ringing. Just the distant sound of the fountain splashing in the courtyard below.
I held a porcelain cup of black coffee in my hands, letting the steam warm my face. The events of the previous night felt like a surreal dream—the blinding chandeliers, Noah's stunned face, the velvet ring box, and the confession that had irrevocably altered the trajectory of my life. I had crossed a line from which there was no return. I loved Ethan Moretti. And worse, he knew it.
A sliding glass door clicked open behind me. Ethan stepped out onto the terrace, wearing a charcoal-gray cashmere sweater over a black dress shirt, his sleeves pushed up to reveal the intricate ink tattoos curling around his forearms. He held two fresh cups of coffee, extending one toward me.
"You're up early," he said quietly, leaning against the stone balustrade beside me.
"Hard to sleep when you're waiting for the other shoe to drop," I replied, taking the cup from his hand and intentionally letting my fingers brush against his palm. He didn't pull away; instead, his fingers tightened slightly around mine before letting go.
"My head of security swept the perimeter at dawn," Ethan said, looking out over the rolling lawns of the estate. "No sign of the cars from your apartment complex. But we found something left on the front gate."
My breath hitched. I turned to look at him, my grip tightening on the coffee mug. "What?"
Ethan reached into his pocket and pulled out a sealed manila envelope, damp with morning dew. He handed it to me. Inside was an old, undated photograph of Ethan standing outside a downtown office building, talking to a man whose face had been aggressively crossed out with thick black marker. Clipped to the photo was a printed note: *Tell your little auditor to drop the foundation inquiry, or the next leak won't be financial.*
"They know we're working together," I whispered, staring down at the ink-marked face.
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Ethan's jaw set in a hard, dangerous line. He looked down at me, his dark eyes burning with a fierce, protective intensity that superseded every rule of business, family, and safety.
"Let them try," Ethan said softly. "We end this today."
