Chapter 2: The Last Good Twenty Minutes
Ethan didn't move for a long moment.
Then he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his phone.
"What are you doing?" I grabbed his arm.
"Canceling the award."
"Ethan, stop.
If you do that tonight, in front of everyone — Andrew will know it was me.
He'll—"
"He'll what?" His eyes met mine.
"Hurt you again?"
I couldn't answer.
He looked down at my arm.
At the bruises shaped like a hand.
His jaw tightened.
"How long?"
I looked away.
"How long?" he asked again, quieter this time.
"Fourteen months."
Something shifted in his face.
Not anger.
Something colder than anger.
He put the phone away.
Straightened his jacket.
"Then we don't cancel anything," he said.
"We go back down.
You smile.
I shake his hand."
"That's it?"
"That's it." He paused at the door.
"Let Andrew enjoy the next twenty minutes.
It's the last good ones he'll have."
I didn't understand what he meant.
Not until I saw who was already waiting at the bottom of the stairs.
Two men in dark suits.
And a woman holding a folder thick enough to be a case file.
💼
Andrew was still laughing with the mayor when Ethan walked straight toward him.
What Ethan said next made the entire room go silent.
😶
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What Ethan did in front of hundreds of guests that night was something no one saw coming.
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