The next morning at breakfast, Lena and Ethan sat across from each other at the dining table, quiet tension clinging to the air like fog. Plates of different breakfast meals lay untouched before them, steam curling into the silence. Lena stirred her tea absentmindedly, her eyes darting now and then to her buzzing phone. The screen lit up every few seconds—messages from Charles.
Ethan noticed, though he said nothing. Her fingers trembled slightly with each new notification. He guessed what was happening. So Charles won't back off, he thought, chewing slowly, eyes not leaving his plate. I guess we're all playing games now.
Still, he couldn't let Charles keep a foothold in her mind. He needed to break through. Quietly, he set down his fork.
"I've been meaning to ask…" he began.
Lena's heart skipped. She looked up, startled, her lips parting in a guilty gasp. Is he about to ask about the messages? Did he notice?
"Your parents," Ethan said.
She blinked. "What?"
"How did they die?" he asked, casually, as though he wasn't watching her every reaction.
Relieved it wasn't about Charles, yet shaken by the sudden pivot, she sat straighter, the air shifting. It was a conversation she usually avoided—sacred and painful. But she needed the distraction. Charles's messages were gnawing at her resolve. She hadn't even rejected his proposal outright because part of her didn't want to hurt him… or admit that he might've been right about Ethan.
"Car accident," she said quietly.
Ethan looked at her, waiting. "What happened?"
"They crashed into a large SUV. The report said they were on the wrong lane." She scoffed. "I never bought that."
Ethan frowned slightly, sensing the unresolved grief in her voice.
"My parents weren't careless. Especially not with Audrey in the car. They were strong about right and wrong. There's no way they'd be driving recklessly. Something just… felt off. But I had nothing to prove it. No evidence."
He nodded slowly. "If you had the chance to investigate, to prove something—what would you want? Compensation? Justice? Closure?"
"Compensation?" she echoed with a bitter laugh. "No compensation can erase that kind of pain. If I had the chance, I'd want justice. Whoever caused that accident—if it was foul play—should be held accountable. Maybe then… maybe I could finally breathe."
She sighed, finally switching off her phone and sliding it away. Ethan noticed. At least now she was fully with him.
"But why are you suddenly asking about my family?" she asked. "We said no personal stuff, remember?"
He gave a small smirk. "We also said you could ask about mine. Doesn't mean I have to answer."
They both smiled faintly. The weight of the conversation lingered, but it had shifted the air. Ethan returned to his food. Lena stole glances at him. If only he would open up to her more… maybe she wouldn't have to keep justifying to Charles that he was wrong.
Then Christian walked in, unbothered by the energy in the room. "Good morning," he greeted, taking a seat.
"Bad time?" he asked Ethan.
"Nah," Ethan replied.
"Well, I might be the bad time. I need you to see something—urgent."
Ethan stood. "Not here?"
"Lena, it's nothing personal," Christian added.
"It's fine," Lena said with a small wave. "You guys do your thing."
In the home office, Christian wasted no time. "You don't get to shut me out, Eth. Now fill me in. Who's Charles and why are you interested in him?"
"I'll tell you what I know if you tell me what you found," Ethan countered.
Christian sighed. "Fine. Frederick was served a 24-hour ultimatum—turn himself in or face public arrest. The legal team didn't play nice."
"Good."
"Also, Charles' dad used to work with your late father. They were business associates. The man went bankrupt, though I don't think your father ever knew. He's one of those high-packaging, low-substance types. Doing alright now, but not great."
"And?"
Christian paused. "Cue was found."
Ethan blinked. "The dog?"
Christian nodded. "Owner refused to hand him over, claimed he was a stray. I had to tell her about the dog's past. She insisted on coming to make sure he still recognized Lena."
"Where is she?"
"In the garage. I brought her with me."
Ethan hesitated. "I'm not sure Lena's ready. She was… emotional this morning."
"We'll find out." Christian gestured to the guard, who returned moments later with the woman and the dog.
Back at the dining table, Lena was taking a sip of her tea when she saw the bodyguard approach. Her eyes locked on the dog beside the woman.
At first, she froze. Her heart skipped painfully, caught between recognition and denial.
"Cue?" she whispered.
The dog barked—a deep, familiar bark—and bolted toward her.
Time stopped.
Lena gasped, dropping her cup as she stumbled to her knees. "Cue!" she cried again, voice cracking. Tears welled in her eyes as the dog leapt into her arms, whining, licking, trembling.
"Oh my God," she sobbed. "How are you alive? How did you escape? Cue… Cue... I thought I lost you forever."
She buried her face in his fur, hands gripping tightly, as if afraid he might vanish again.
"I waited… I thought you'd been killed in that crash."
The woman who found Cue wiped her own tears. "He never barked, not once. Until now. He's been quiet all these years."
Lena ran her hands over the familiar fur, now rougher, more grown. "And you still had your name?" she murmured, spotting the faded 'Cue' inscription on the tag.
Ethan watched silently, arms crossed, expression unreadable. Christian, however, had tears in his eyes, quickly wiping them away.
Cue suddenly pulled back slightly. Lena followed him with her gaze.
"What's wrong?" Ethan asked, stepping closer.
"I think… I think I'm allergic. My nose—it's itching, and I'm sneezing."
Christian chuckled lightly through his emotion. "Cue remembers. That's why he shifted away. He remembered you sneezed around him."
Lena smiled through tears. "Audrey is going to be so happy. He used to fall asleep holding Cue's paw."
Ethan gently helped her to her feet and guided her to a seat away from the dog, whose tail wagged in quiet understanding.
As Lena wiped her face, her chest still heaving from the shock, she looked at Ethan—not with suspicion or fear, but with raw emotion.
He had given her a piece of her past back.
And even if he wouldn't show it…
She felt it.
He cared.