Caught Red-Handed

​Chloe stared down at the brightly lit text message, a sick, hollow sensation blooming in the pit of her stomach and spreading through her veins like ice. Marcus was using his own brother—the very man standing in her living room—as a convenient alibi to cheat on her. He didn't even care enough about her to make up a creative, believable lie. He just blindly assumed she would accept whatever excuse he threw her way, sitting quietly at home like a loyal dog.

​She slowly looked up at Ethan, her face completely drained of color under the warm glow of the apartment lights. The transformation in Ethan’s expression was immediate and terrifying. The calm, stoic CEO vanished, replaced by a mask of pure, unadulterated fury. A prominent vein in his temple throbbed, and his chest rose and fell heavily as he stared at his younger brother's blatant, disrespectful lie on her screen. It was one thing for Marcus to be irresponsible, but using Ethan to facilitate his betrayal was a boundary he never should have crossed.

​"He's with her, isn't he?" Chloe whispered, the final, desperate thread of her denial snapping entirely. With trembling fingers, she turned the phone around, displaying the anonymous video of Marcus and Mia behaving intimately in the velvet booth of the club.

​Ethan looked at the screen. To Chloe’s surprise, he didn't look shocked by his brother's behavior. Instead, a fleeting shadow of profound guilt and deep-seated regret crossed his handsome features, instantly replaced by an icy, unbreakable resolve. He looked like a man who had reached his absolute limit.

​"Chloe," Ethan said, his voice dropping an octave, becoming unexpectedly gentle—a stark contrast to the volatile anger vibrating from his large frame. "Get your coat. Come with me."

​"What? No, Ethan, I can't," Chloe cried, shaking her head frantically as she backed away from him. "I need to stay here. I need to confront him the second he walks through that door. I need him to look me in the eye and explain why he did this to me."

​"He isn't coming back to this apartment tonight, Chloe. And I am not going to let you sit here in the dark, crying over a coward who doesn't deserve a single one of your tears," Ethan interrupted firmly. He stepped over to the coat rack, grabbed her black trench coat, and held it open for her with an undeniable air of authority. "We are going to find him."

​There was something so commanding, so fiercely protective in Ethan's demeanor that Chloe found herself moving without thinking. The overwhelming sadness inside her was suddenly overridden by a hot, roaring wave of anger. She slipped her arms into the coat, leaving her beautifully cooked dinner behind to go cold.

​Ten minutes later, Ethan’s sleek, black luxury sedan tore through the rainy city streets, pulling up to the glittering private entrance of the Grand Imperial Hotel. Ethan didn’t bother talking to the valet; he slammed his door, walked straight into the lobby toward the private penthouse elevator, and pulled a golden keycard from his breast pocket.

​"This is Marcus's private suite," Chloe whispered anxiously as the elevator surged upward at a dizzying speed. "Ethan, how do you have the key to his place?"

The elevator dinged, the doors sliding open to reveal the exclusive top floor. Ethan looked down at her, his dark eyes burning with a hidden, possessive fire that made her heart stop. "Because I bought this penthouse for him. And tonight, I’m taking it back."

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