And I was the one holding the pieces.
I watched the realization settle over him, slow and painful—like watching a man try to outrun an avalanche only to realize he was standing directly in its path.
“You set me up,” he said finally, his voice hollow, as if he couldn’t quite believe it.
I tilted my head, allowing a small, knowing smile. “Set you up? No, Ethan. I simply gave you exactly what you deserved.”
His jaw clenched, his breathing shallow. He took a step closer, and for the first time, I saw something in his expression that had never been there before.
Powerlessness.
The very thing he had spent his life avoiding.
“You don’t understand what you’ve done,” he said, his voice low—like a man on the edge of a cliff, grasping for solid ground.
I let out a soft chuckle. “Oh, Ethan,” I said, shaking my head. “I understand perfectly.”
The weight of my words hung between us, thick and suffocating. He knew I wasn’t bluffing. He knew that whatever control he once had over me was gone—shattered beyond repair.
A loud vibration against the countertop broke the silence. His phone. Another message.
He glanced at it, and for a second, his face paled.
I stepped forward, peering over his shoulder just enough to see the preview.
It was from an unknown number, but I already knew what it was.
“Anonymous: Hope your wife didn’t see the rest of the messages. That would be unfortunate.”
Ethan’s hand hovered over the screen, as if touching it would somehow make the problem disappear.
But problems like these didn’t disappear.
They grew—spreading like wildfire, consuming everything in their path.
He turned to me sharply. “What did you do?”
I met his gaze, my expression calm, controlled. “I simply told the truth.”
His breathing was uneven now, panic slipping through the cracks of his once-perfect composure. He ran a hand over his face, pacing the length of the room, muttering something under his breath.
Then suddenly, he stopped. His head snapped up.
“Liam,” he whispered, his eyes locked onto mine, the pieces clicking together in his mind. “Liam knew, didn’t he? That’s why he’s panicking.”
I didn’t respond.
He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “He was in on this. That traitor—”
I cut him off with a soft, amused voice. “Oh, Ethan. You still don’t get it, do you?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Get what?”
I took my time, stepping around him, making sure he felt the weight of every second—the tension curling between us like an invisible rope tightening around his throat.
Then I leaned in just enough so that he had no choice but to listen.
“This was never just about you,” I whispered.
Ethan’s entire body went rigid.
He blinked, processing my words, and when they finally sank in, I saw it—the realization, the sheer depth of what I had done.
It wasn’t just about exposing him. It was about destroying the foundation beneath him. Their business, their friendships—everything they had built together. Every lie they had told. Every time they had laughed at my expense.
I had dismantled it all, piece by piece.
His breathing quickened, his gaze darting to his phone again as if expecting another blow to land.
Maybe it would.
“You don’t know what you’ve done,” he muttered again, but this time the words held no conviction.
I smiled, tilting my head slightly. “Oh, I know exactly what I’ve done.”
The silence stretched between us, heavy and suffocating. I could see the war raging inside him. He wanted to fight back. He wanted to regain control.
But there was nothing left for him to hold on to.
Then the phone rang.
Ethan hesitated, then finally answered. “What?” he snapped.
I watched, arms crossed, as his face twisted into something I had never seen before—real, unfiltered panic.
“What do you mean it’s everywhere?” he hissed. “No, I don’t know who leaked it—who else has seen it?”
Another pause. His shoulders stiffened, his face draining of all color.
He exhaled slowly, rubbing his temple. “No. No, this can’t happen. We need to control the damage.”
A bitter chuckle escaped me.
Ethan turned sharply. “You think this is funny?”
I shook my head. “I think it’s overdue.”
He ended the call, gripping the phone so hard his knuckles turned white. When he finally met my gaze again, there was something new in his eyes.
Defeat.
For the first time, Ethan Murphy had lost.
