Ethan suddenly hurled his phone at the wall.
The screen burst into a spiderweb of cracks.
He kicked the coffee table over with one brutal shove.
The crystal ashtray rolled across the floor and hit the ground with a dull, heavy thud.
He paced the study like a wild beast trapped in a cage, back and forth, back and forth, a savage red blaze burning in his eyes.
“Sir!” The chief of staff rushed in at the noise, then froze at the chaos in front of him.
“You…”
“Get the car ready.” Ethan yanked his tie loose, his voice so hoarse it barely sounded human.
“Call in the presidential guard.
I’m going to see Nina.”
The chief of staff went pale immediately.
“Sir, at this hour, if we mobilize the guard and force our way into the consular district, Congress will—”
“I said, get the car ready!” Ethan snapped his head around, his gaze dark and vicious enough to make anyone’s scalp tingle.
“Whoever dares stop me is fired on the spot!”
He was going to see her.
He didn’t care who that man was or what kind of background he had.
He had to hear it from her face-to-face.
He needed her to tell him herself that she would not leave with another man, that she would not throw him away.
The convoy slammed to a stop outside Fragrance Garden.
Tires scraped through the standing water with a harsh, ear-piercing sound.
Blinding headlights washed over the ornate iron gate, bleaching the ivy climbing over the arch above into a ghostly white.
Ethan shoved the car door open.
The pounding rain instantly soaked through his suit.
He strode toward the gate in long, hard steps, the armed guard unit following behind him, weapons loaded, their presence aggressive and heavy like they were marching into battle.
But the gate was already open.
Ethan’s steps stalled for half a beat, and a strange, creeping unease flashed through his chest.
He looked up.
In the spill of the headlights, he saw two rows of bodyguards in black standing just inside the gate.
Every one of them was broad-shouldered and expressionless, like a silent wall built out of darkness.
They had no guns raised.
They made no move to block him.
They simply stood there quietly, as if they had known all along that he would come.
“Sir…” The captain of the guard tightened his hand over the gun at his waist and scanned the surroundings, every nerve on edge.
But Ethan had no mind for any of that.
His gaze passed straight over those men and locked onto the tightly shut window on the second floor of the villa.
There was no light behind the curtains, only pitch-black stillness, but he knew she was in there.
“Mr.
Blackwell.” A low voice came from the shadows.
One of the bodyguards stepped out from under the porch roof, holding a velvet box and a black card in his hands.
He walked up to Ethan with steady, unhurried steps.
He did not bow.
He did not address him with any special title.
He only extended his hand calmly and offered the two items over.
Ethan’s pupils shrank hard.
“Ms.
Harlow asked me to give this to you.” The bodyguard spoke the local language with an accent, but every word landed clean and sharp.
“She said these belong to you.
Please take them back.”
Ethan didn’t move.
Rain slid down the hard line of his jaw and dripped onto the velvet box, spreading into a dark wet stain.
His eyes locked on that plain band as a dull ache tore through his chest.
“Move.” The word came out through clenched teeth, his voice shaking with rage.
“I want to see her.”
“Ms.
Harlow also said…” The bodyguard acted like he hadn’t even heard the threat and went on calmly, meeting Ethan’s bloodshot stare without flinching.
“If you insist on forcing your way in, then this will be the last time the two of you ever see each other.”
Last time.
Ethan froze where he stood.
The storm hammered down on him, cold enough to bite into bone, yet he felt none of it.
That one sentence kept looping in his head like a curse— the last time.
She wasn’t bluffing.
He knew Nina too well.
She looked soft, easy, harmless even, but deep down she was more ruthless than anyone when she made up her mind.
If she said it, she meant it.
She meant every word.
If he stepped through that gate today, she would really cut him off forever.
Ethan lifted his foot, but it just hung there.
He couldn’t make it come down.
He didn’t dare bet on it.
Political enemies stabbing from the shadows, brutal election wars, assassination attempts with death inches away—none of it had ever made him blink.
But right now, one single line, “the last time,” had nailed him to the spot so completely he couldn’t even breathe right.
“She…” His voice was hoarse beyond recognition.
Rain mixed with something burning hot as it slid down his face.
“She really said that?”
The bodyguard gave a slight nod.
“Those were Ms.
Harlow’s exact words.”
Ethan slowly closed his eyes.
The fire raging in his chest went out in that instant, replaced by something deeper, colder— panic.
The bodyguard gently set the velvet box and the black card on the stone pillar beside the iron gate, then turned and stepped back into the shadows under the porch.
The men in black still stood there in silence, unmoving, like a gulf he could never cross.
Ethan stood in the pouring rain, soaked through from head to toe.
The chief of staff rushed over with an umbrella, trying to shield him, but Ethan shoved him away without even looking.
“Get lost.”
He just stood there like that, head tilted up, staring at the dark second-floor window.
Rain ran straight down his collar, soaking his shirt through, cold and merciless against his skin.
His wet hair clung to his forehead, and he looked nothing like the President now.
More like some guy the whole world had thrown away, left out in the storm with nowhere to go.
A memory hit him out of nowhere.
Years ago, that sixteen-year-old girl had stood in the rain too, covered in wounds, yet still staring him dead in the eye, asking for his name.
She had said she wanted to repay him.
Back then, he had brushed it off completely.
To him, gratitude from a girl at the very bottom had meant less than nothing, light as dust.
And now, she had paid that debt in full, turned around, and left.
And he didn’t even have the right to see her one last time.
Ethan bent down and picked up the velvet box from the stone pillar, swollen from the rain.
He clenched the wedding ring hard in his palm.
The sharp edge bit into his flesh so badly it should have hurt, but it was like his body had already gone numb.
“Nina Blackwell, you really went all in this time,” he said to that tightly shut window, his voice low, rough, and a little unhinged.
“Fine.
Since you’re doing this, then don’t blame me.
I’m not letting you go.”