Chapter 2 - THE GHOST OF A PROMISE BROKEN IN A COLD APARTMENT
The silence in the hallway stretched thin and sharp, broken only by the distant hum of the hotel's air conditioning system. Victoria had finally caught up to us, her silk dress rustling like dry autumn leaves as she placed a possessive, manicured hand on Ethan’s arm.
“Ethan, what is the meaning of this spectacle?” Victoria demanded, her eyes sweeping over me with undisguised contempt. “We have investors waiting in the penthouse suite for the gala preview. You cannot possibly be entertaining the delusions of every desperate woman who recognizes your face from the financial pages.”
Ethan didn’t even look at her. His gaze remained locked onto Leo, who had buried his face in the crook of my neck, suddenly shy of the stranger making such a heavy atmosphere around us.
“Victoria, go inside,” Ethan said, his voice flat, cold, and entirely devoid of the warmth he used to reserve for social settings. It was the voice of the ruthless corporate titan who swallowed failing companies whole.
“I will not,” Victoria snapped, her jaw tightening. “You are embarrassing yourself, and you are embarrassing me. Who is this—this person?”
“She is Sarah,” Ethan said, turning his head slowly to look at his fiancée, and for a split second, I saw a flash of pure disgust in his eyes. “And if you don’t walk away right now, Victoria, our engagement party tonight will be the least of your concerns.”
Victoria gasped, her face flushing crimson. She glared at me as if I had personally orchestrated this ambush, though my own mind was spinning just as fast as hers. With a haughty toss of her blonde hair, she spun around and stormed back down the corridor, her heels clicking a furious rhythm until the heavy double doors of the private elevator swallowed her up.
When we were finally alone, the weight of thirty months pressed down on us like a physical mountain.
“Sarah, please,” Ethan murmured, taking a half-step forward, his hands twitching at his sides as if he wanted to reach out but didn't dare. “Talk to me. Upstairs. My suite is just down the hall. Let’s... let’s get out of this hallway.”
I looked at him, really looked at him. The sharp jawline was the same, the dark curls were still unruly despite whatever high-end product kept them in place, but the carefree arrogance of the man I had loved was gone, replaced by a haunting, hollow desperation.
“My room is on the twelfth floor, Ethan,” I said quietly. “And if you want answers, you’re going to have to walk down there with me, because I’m not stepping foot in your suite with Victoria hovering anywhere nearby.”
“Fine,” he agreed instantly, without a moment of hesitation. “Lead the way.”
As we rode the elevator down to the twelfth floor, neither of us spoke. Leo had fallen fast asleep, exhausted by the excitement of the lobby and the strange, tense energy vibrating between the adults. His little chest rose and fell in a steady, calming rhythm against my collarbone.
When we reached room 1204, I unlocked the door, pushed it open, and stepped into the quiet, sunlit suite. Ethan followed me inside, his eyes immediately scanning the room—not taking in the luxury, but looking for signs of my life, our life, how I had been surviving since he cast me out of his world.
I laid Leo gently in the temporary crib the hotel had provided, tucking a light blanket over his small shoulders. He sighed softly in his sleep, completely untouched by the storm brewing outside his dreams.
I turned around, walking over to the small mahogany desk where my leather handbag sat. I unzipped the side pocket, my fingers brushing against the worn, folded edges of an envelope that had haunted my waking hours for nearly a thousand days.
I pulled it out, holding it between my thumb and forefinger as if it were radioactive.
“You asked why I didn’t tell you,” I said, my voice echoing slightly in the quiet room.
Ethan stood by the window, the Manhattan skyline stretching out behind him like a glittering backdrop. He swallowed hard, watching my every move.
“I remember every word of that question, Sarah.”
“Do you?” I walked slowly across the carpet, stopping three feet away from him. I didn't hand it to him; I dropped it onto the glass coffee table between us, letting it slide across the surface until it rested right in front of him.
“Open it,” I whispered. “Read the words you supposedly wrote to me the night before you packed your bags and vanished into thin air.”
May you like
Ethan stared down at the cream-colored envelope. His brow furrowed in genuine confusion. He reached out slowly, his fingers picking up the paper as if it might bite him. He slid the single sheet of matching stationery out, unfolding it with hands that suddenly looked unsteady.
His eyes scanned the top line, and the healthy color that had just begun to return to his face vanished completely, leaving him as pale as a corpse.
