Chapter 4

MARCUS

"Carlos!" I yelled as soon as I woke up, groaning when the pounding in my head continued. "Get me some fucking aspirin! Now!"

The room was too bright, and I pressed the button to shut the curtains before I rolled over and pulled the sheets over my head. Thank goodness today was a Sunday, and I didn't have to go into the office. My head was pounding, like a herd of elephants were desperately trying to stampede their way out of my skull.

Maybe I shouldn't have had so much to drink.

But last night was a cause for celebration, and I wasn't going to waste such an opportunity. After four years of misery, I was finally free. And I'd celebrated by fucking Emily's brains out four times, one for each miserable year of my marriage.

I half-opened my eyes and saw that the bed was empty, which brought a smile to my face. She was truly gone, and I was free. No more worrying about what she was going to say or do. No more stressing out over the fact that my marriage wasn't as perfect as I wanted it to be.

And I could finally start dreaming of having a child once again.

A soft knock came on the door, and Carlos walked in with some tablets, a glass of water and some warm towels. The old bastard always knew exactly what I wanted, even if he got on my nerves most of the time.

"Good morning, Master Marcus," he said softly, handing me the pills and glass. "I've prepared breakfast in case you're ready to eat now. And I've also drawn up a hot bath for you, because I know you will prefer that to a shower in your current state."

It reminded me of all those years ago in the Reynard summer home, when Ethan and I were fresh out of college and getting ready to take our roles at Reynard Tech. We were always out partying, and Carlos would always prepare for our potential hangovers even before we woke up.

But that was a long time ago. I hadn't seen my brother in over sixteen years, and I didn't even know where he was. For all I know, he could be in some little village in Bangkok. Or he could be strolling through the A****n rainforest at this very moment. He could even be on fucking Mars for all I cared. We might have been born together, but we were no longer attached at the hip.

"What time is it?" I asked Carlos as I took the pills.

"It's a few minutes past noon, sir," he replied. "You have fifteen missed calls and a package has arrived from the concierge. You also have an appointment with David Cowell scheduled in the next hour, and your reminders indicated that you have two Zoom meetings scheduled for this afternoon as well as a dinner reservation tonight at La Vouché."

"Cancel all my appointments for today," I said. "I'll speak to Cowell after my bath. And ask Madelyn to get me a black dress. She has the measurements from last time."

I could have sworn I saw the slight scowl in his eyes when I said that, and he looked like he was about to say something but he thought better of it.

"Right away, sir," he said, heading for the door.

"Come back here, Carlos," I said, placing a hot towel on my forehead. "Don't think I've forgotten what you did last night."

He froze as I said this, and his shoulders sagged even more. He looked like he would rather be anywhere but here, and I had half a mind to fire him right on the spot.

"Tell me, who do you serve, Carlos?" I asked.

"I serve the Reynard family, sir," he replied automatically.

"Exactly. And as of yesterday, when you saw that bitch Olivia packing her things, did you not realise that she was leaving this house?"

"I did not assume anything, sir," he replied. "I was only thinking of helping her as the mistress of this house."

We both knew he was lying, but I chose to give him the benefit of the doubt. After all, he did bring me fresh hot towels. That was the only thing that saved him. At least for now.

"Olivia is no longer a member of this family," I said. "As such, you will not answer to her anymore. If she comes to this house, you are to stop her from entering and inform me at once. You are also to block her from contacting me or anyone else in this household. You are not to speak to anyone about the nature of my relationship with her, and you will inform every member of staff about this. Do you understand?"

For a moment, he looked like he wanted to say something. But then she bowed in front of me and said, "As you wish, sir."

"Good," I said. "Now get out of here."

As he hurried out of the room, I laid back down on the bed and placed another hot towel on my head. Thankfully, the pounding was starting to go away. I still needed a while before I would be able to stand up properly and go about my day, but for now I chose to focus on the positives. For one thing, Liv was gone for good, and she wasn't coming back. Maybe there might be a few of her possessions that she still hadn't packed up yet, and I fully intended to be right here when she came for them, so I could humiliate her some more and remind her of how pathetic and useless she was.

But there were more pressing matters at hand, and the one thing I'd been dreading for a very long time now was staring me right in the face. There was no way of avoiding it any longer, and the sooner I just got it over with, the quicker I could finally put it behind me.

I reached into my bedside drawer and pulled out the note he had left me sixteen years ago before he left. I still remembered waking up that morning, and coming downstairs to find my mother seated at the table without touching anything on her plate. She didn’t even look up as I walked in, and one look was enough to tell me that something was wrong.

“What’s going on?” I asked. “Where’s Ethan?”

My mother looked up slowly, a distant, vacant look in her eyes. And I knew, even before she said anything. He’d seemed off during the funeral, but I never thought it would actually come to this. We used to joke about fleeing the country and starting a new life somewhere. I never thought we were actually being serious. But when I saw that he was gone that morning, I immediately knew where he was.

“He left you this,” mother said, sliding a single note towards me. I recognised Ethan’s handwriting immediately, the scribbled, horrible mess that it usually was:

Marcus,

I’m sorry. I won’t be coming back. If you need me, call the number on the back of this card. I need to leave and find some peace. But if I have to, I’ll come back for you.

Ethan.

P.S.: tell mom I’m sorry for doing this to her. And take care of her for me.

I vowed never to call him that day. Even after mom managed to track him down in London, I still didn’t bother calling. I’d gotten what I wanted after all. Why would I want him to come back and ruin everything?

But now, as I stared at the card, I thought about all the things I hadn’t said to him, and all the things I wished I could say. I thought about how he always made me feel small, and how he always stole the spotlight even when he wasn’t trying to. I despised him, but perhaps time has dulled some of that hatred.

Bracing myself, I flipped the card over and dialled the number. It should be about 5pm by now, so he was definitely free. I half-hoped that he wouldn’t answer, but the bastard picked up on the third ring.

“Hello?”

‘Fuck you,’ I thought to myself. Instead, I took a deep breath and tried to sound normal.

“Hello, Ethan.”

He paused, and I know he must have been surprised to hear from me after all this time. Having the same voice didn’t help either. I felt like I was talking to myself. But I held the phone to my ear and waited, hoping he would simply hang up.

“Hello, Marcus,” he said finally. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I just wanted to give you a heads-up,” I said. “In about a week or two, you’re going to hear from mom about coming back to take my position as the CEO of the company. I just didn’t want you to be blindsided.”

He was silent for a while, and I could almost hear the wheels turning in his head. He was probably wondering how I managed to screw things up. Or he was thinking about how pathetic it was of me to ever think I could step into the role he has been perfect for ever since we were born.

But then, he surprised me.

“I’m not coming back.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “But whatever it is that’s going on down there, I’m not getting roped into it anymore. Tell her not to bother calling.”

And with that, he hung up.

And I could finally breathe.