Chapter 5

Lena sat at the bar, her eyes studying Ethan as he poured himself another glass of whiskey. The dim lighting cast sharp shadows on his face, making him look even more unreadable. She had expected their conversation to be over after their earlier exchange, yet here they were, sitting together again, as if drawn by some invisible force neither of them could resist.

He took a slow sip, his jaw tightening ever so slightly. “You asked about my brother.”

Lena’s breath hitched. She hadn’t expected him to bring it up so soon.

She glanced at the small notebook in her hands, her notes from their brief interaction scribbled in ink. 

“Let me guess, I’m a bad person, huh?” His words echoed in her mind. 

He’d said it with a smirk, but there was something beneath it—a challenge, maybe even a hint of self-awareness.

“Yes,” she said carefully. “No,you’re not a bad person.But you don’t have to” Lena stuttered,finding it difficult to place her words rightly.

“He’s dead.”

The bluntness of his words sent a chill through her. She could tell, though, that this was more than just a piece of information. It was a wound—one that had never fully healed.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Ethan’s gaze flicked to her, his expression unreadable. 

“Don’t be.” He set his glass down with a quiet clink. “People either pity me for it or assume I deserved it. You seem like the type who wants to dig for the truth.”

Lena hesitated. “I do. But not for the wrong reasons.”

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping. “Then let me give you some advice, journalist.”

A shiver ran down her spine at the way he said it.

“Some stories are better left alone.”

The air between them thickened, crackling with something Lena couldn’t quite name. She should have been intimidated. Maybe even scared. Instead, she was intrigued.

“Is that a warning?” she asked, tilting her head.

He smirked, but there was no amusement in his eyes. “It’s a fact.”

She held his gaze, refusing to back down. “What happened to your brother, Ethan?”

His fingers curled into a fist on the bar top. For a moment, he said nothing, the tension stretching unbearably between them.

Then, just as Lena thought he might actually answer her, one of his men approached, murmuring something in his ear.

Ethan sighed and stood up. “I have business to handle.”

Lena’s heart pounded as she watched him grab his suit jacket, adjusting his cufflinks.

He turned to her one last time, his expression unreadable. “I meant what I said. Be careful what you dig up.”

Then he walked away, leaving Lena alone at the bar, her mind racing with questions.

She knew one thing for certain.

She wasn’t backing down.

Back in her hotel room,Lena spent the rest of the afternoon pacing,her mind replaying every word Ethan had said. He was unpredictable, that much was clear. One moment, he was teasing her about her disguise, the next, he was warning her to be careful. There was something about him that made her both intrigued and cautious.

 Lena stared at her reflection in the mirror, still replaying Ethan’s words in her head.

Was it just a warning? Or something more?

She ran a hand through her hair, exhaling slowly. She had pushed powerful men before, uncovered scandals that people wanted buried. But this was different. There was something in Ethan’s eyes—something dark, something wounded,a void.

Before she could spiral deeper into her thoughts, a sharp knock sounded at her door.

Lena frowned, checking the time. It was past midnight.

Cautiously, she peered through the peephole.

One of Ethan’s men stood there, holding a sleek black envelope.

Her stomach tightened.

She hesitated, but opened the door anyway.

“Mr. Ethan asked me to deliver this.” 

Lena took the envelope, gripping it tightly. “What is it?”

The man didn’t answer. “Read it.”

With that, he turned and disappeared down the hall,he wouldn’t even allow Lena speak.

Lena shut the door, her fingers trembling slightly as she opened the envelope. The paper inside was thick, expensive, carrying the faint scent of cologne.

She unfolded it, her eyes scanning the brief message.

Ms. Lena Reyes,

Some things are better left buried. Drop the story. This is my first and only warning.

-Ethan Montgomery

Lena’s heart pounded.

So, he wasn’t bluffing.

But something about the note didn’t sit right with her. The phrasing. The tone.

Ethan Montgomery was many things—cold, calculating, enigmatic—but he didn’t strike her as the type to send anonymous threats.

No, this was different.

A warning, yes. But a warning against what?

Or who? She hasn’t even started the interview proper,she was already receiving threats concerning it.

Her gut told her there was more to this than Ethan simply wanting to keep his secrets.

Someone didn’t want her getting too close.

And if there was one thing Lena never did, it was walk away from any story.

Her phone buzzed,jerking her back to reality . This time, it was her editor.

“Lena, how’s the story going?” The voice on the other end was sharp, impatient.

She hesitated. “It’s… complicated. He’s not the easiest person to talk to.” Lena managed to say.

“He’s never given an interview before. If you can pull this off, you’ll have your name on every major publication and a promotion too!. No pressure.”

Lena exhaled. No pressure, right.

After ending the call, she ran her fingers through her hair(this very action,she does to calm herself down) and stared at herself in the mirror. If she wanted to get through to Ethan, she had to understand him first. He wasn’t just the cold-hearted billionaire the tabloids made him out to be. There was something more beneath the surface.

With renewed determination, she grabbed her notebook and left the room. She had one mission: to finish the interview.

The hotel’s bar had a low, intimate glow, the kind of place where deals were sealed with quiet nods and unspoken agreements. She spotted Ethan instantly—seated at the far end, a glass of whiskey in his hand, his broad shoulders tense. His men flanked him, their presence a silent warning to stay away.

But Lena wasn’t the type to be easily intimidated.

She approached cautiously, waiting for him to acknowledge her. When he finally did, it wasn’t with a smirk this time. He looked… tired.

“You again,” he said, swirling the whiskey in his glass. 

“Didn’t I make it clear that it depends on my mood? Now isn’t even a good time”

Lena smiled, sliding onto the barstool next to him. “And what’s the verdict?”

He studied her, then sighed. “Ask your questions, journalist.”

She opened her notebook, her pulse racing. “Tell me about your twin brother.”

Ethan’s grip on the glass tightened.

For a moment, she thought he wouldn’t answer. But then, in a voice lower than before, he said, “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

She met his gaze.

“No.” Lena said looking him straightway in the eye.

Ethan exhaled slowly, looking away. “Then order another drink, because this story isn’t short.”