FIFTEEN

~ETHAN

The drive home was quieter than usual, a stark contrast to the chaos in my head. My thoughts kept circling back to Maddy—her voice, the way her eyes lit up when she mentioned her birthday plans. I could still hear her teasing me about wearing something "other than a suit" to dinner tonight.

I’d intended to make it. I really had. But the day had spiraled out of control. A client crisis, endless phone calls, and the suffocating weight of managing the company had consumed every second. By the time I realized how late it was, the clock on my dashboard read 11:15 PM.

I gripped the steering wheel tighter, frustration bubbling under my skin. I’d missed it. I missed her.

As I parked in the driveway, the house loomed ahead of me, its windows glowing faintly against the dark night. The air felt heavy as I walked to the door, turning the key in the lock.

The silence inside was deafening. No staff bustling about, no soft hum of conversation. Just the muted tick of the grandfather clock in the hallway.

“Ethan,” Samantha’s voice cut through the quiet, sharp and unwelcome.

I turned to see her lounging on the living room couch, a half-empty glass of wine in her hand. She looked too comfortable, like she belonged here, which she didn’t.

“Samantha,” I said flatly, barely glancing at her as I walked past.

She stood, her heels clicking against the floor as she approached me. “Where have you been all night?” she asked, her tone dripping with mock concern. “You’ve been avoiding me all week, and now you’re acting like I don’t exist.”

“I’ve been working,” I replied curtly, sidestepping her attempt to block my path.

“Oh, come on,” she said, stepping in front of me again. “You can’t be that busy.”

“Samantha, I don’t have time for this,” I snapped. “Where’s Maddy?”

Her expression soured instantly, her lips curling into a sneer. “Why do you care? It’s not like you bothered to show up for her birthday. She’s probably upstairs, crying or something. Pathetic, really.”

Her words hit harder than I cared to admit. Guilt twisted in my gut as I glanced around the room, searching for any sign of Maddy. That’s when I saw it—the neatly wrapped silver box sitting untouched on the dining table.

Samantha noticed my gaze and followed it to the box. Before I could stop her, she sauntered over, picking it up with a sly smile.

“Oh, what’s this?” she cooed, unwrapping the ribbon with exaggerated care.

“Put it down, Sam,” I warned, my voice low and firm.

She ignored me, pulling out the bracelet I’d chosen for Maddy—a delicate, diamond-studded piece I’d spent weeks finding. It was perfect for her, understated but elegant.

“Well, well,” Samantha said, holding it up to the light. “This must have cost a fortune. I wonder if she even deserves it.”

I took a step forward, my patience wearing thin. “I’m not going to tell you again. Put it down.”

She smirked, slipping the bracelet onto her wrist. “What’s the big deal? It’s not like she’s wearing it.”

My jaw tightened. “If you don’t take that off and put it back, I’ll deduct the cost from your salary. Every last cent.”

Her smug expression faltered, and she yanked the bracelet off, slamming it back into the box. “You’re unbelievable,” she hissed. “Running after that little girl like she’s some kind of saint. Newsflash, Ethan—she doesn’t belong in your world. She never will.”

I didn’t dignify her with a response. Grabbing the box, I turned and walked toward the stairs, ignoring the string of insults she hurled at my back.

When I reached Maddy’s door, I hesitated. The faint sound of muffled sobs seeped through the wood, twisting the knife of guilt deeper into my chest.

“Maddy?” I called softly, knocking gently.

The sobbing stopped, but she didn’t answer.

“Maddy, open the door,” I tried again, my voice firmer this time.

Silence.

I pressed my hand against the door, trying to will it open. “I know I messed up,” I said quietly. “I should’ve been here. I’m sorry.”

Still no response.

I tried the handle, but it was locked. Frustration flared. “Maddy, please,” I said, knocking harder. “Talk to me. Yell at me if you want, just... don’t shut me out.”

Her silence was like a wall between us, impenetrable and unyielding.

I rested my forehead against the door, the weight of the day crashing down on me. “I’m sorry,” I murmured, though I doubted she could hear me.

For a long time, I stood there, listening to the deafening quiet, hoping she’d let me in. But the door remained closed, and the faint sound of her crying started again, muffled but unmistakable.

I turned away, the bracelet box still clutched in my hand. As I walked back to my room, the guilt and regret weighed heavier with each step. I’d let her down, and I wasn’t sure how to fix it.