She didn’t get to see Ethan Carter all that often these days.
Unlike before, when things would slowly build up, this time she went straight for it—no beating around the bush.
Ethan Carter’s dark eyes fixed on her, cold as midnight. He opened his mouth to speak, but something inside him suddenly surged, sharp and restless.
He scowled, tugging at his tie as if it were strangling him.
Catherine Blair blinked in surprise at his appearance. “Ethan, are you okay? Your face is all red.”
A dizzy spell hit Ethan; he could tell something was seriously off. He clenched his jaw, fighting to control whatever was boiling up inside, and glared at Catherine. “Get out.”
With that, he yanked out his phone and found Evan Dale’s number, dialing without hesitation.
He was trying his best to keep it together, but Catherine couldn’t help but notice his pallor and the way his breathing had turned ragged.
She reached out, concern in her voice. “Ethan, are you not—”
She didn’t even get to finish the sentence before Ethan shoved her aside, hard.
She stumbled, her back slamming into the wall. The impact was sharp, and she let out a startled gasp.
Ethan didn’t even look back—he’d already gotten Evan on the line. Before his friend could say hello, Ethan’s voice cut through, low and urgent: “Come here. Now.”
Evan’s answer was quick—a terse “On my way.”
Catherine, realizing someone was coming, tried to pull herself together despite her aching back. She moved closer to Ethan, reaching out again, but he snapped his gaze to her.
His eyes were deep—almost bottomless—and cold as a snake’s, the kind of look that sent shivers down your spine.
She froze, every instinct screaming at her to back off.
“Get out. If you come any closer, you’ll wish you hadn’t,” Ethan said, his voice like ice—dead serious, deadly cold.
Catherine gulped, her courage wavering. Fear wrestled with stubbornness—she couldn’t help but remember the way Shirley Carter would look at her, sneering.


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