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A family?

Speaking of him, I have no idea where he is or whether he’ll spend the holidays here. No one has ever missed Christmas at home, but he’s been gone for so long that the certainty I used to have doesn’t feel as solid anymore. I don’t know if he’s coming… and I haven’t dared to ask Sierra.

When we left London, it didn’t surprise me that he wasn’t on the jet with us. A part of me expected it—maybe even prepared for it. I haven’t seen him since that night, the night he told me things were over. Not at the office, not at home… not anymore.

The guys have been busy too—working nonstop, traveling constantly, moving from one place to another without pause—but Ethan hasn’t come back to London at all.

The only time I’ve seen him since then was on screen.

Every channel. Every news outlet.

At Irina’s funeral.

For a moment, I don’t even feel the room around me anymore, my mind pulling me back there with a clarity that still unsettles me.

His face looked carved from stone, every line sharpened, stripped of anything remotely human. No glasses this time—nothing to soften him, nothing to hide behind—just that impenetrable mask he wears when he decides the world doesn’t get access to him. His head held high, his gaze fixed on her coffin for the entire ceremony, never wavering, not even for a second.

The entire world witnessed it—an Ethan who buried someone essential to this company, someone who mattered… and didn’t show a single emotion.

The tabloids exploded that day, dissecting every second, every frame, every breath he took, and I remember thinking that they finally understood.

Who he really is.

Untouchable—at least on the outside. In public. Where no one is allowed in.

There was no convincing him to stay away. No way anyone could have kept him from showing up. He stood there beside Irina’s family, with all the guys behind him, forming a wall so solid it felt impossible to break through.

A statement.

Of strength. Of control. Of dangerous defiance.

They showed everyone they weren’t afraid. That they don’t hide. That nothing—no matter how brutal—can bring them down.

At least not where anyone can see.

Me, Sierra, and Serena stayed home… completely shattered, the weight of the ceremony pressing down harder with each passing hour, guarded by what felt like an entire army. Colt’s men took over the property that night—every corner watched, every entrance secured.

They’re everywhere and nowhere at the same time. You don’t see them unless they want you to.

But they’re there. And they’re here now.

Always watching.

Always ready.

No one has really recovered from what happened. And deep down, I don’t think we ever fully will.

Going back to the office was devastating. Every single employee is still in shock, weighted down by grief, heavy and unspoken. For a while, it felt like no one knew where they belonged anymore—what they were supposed to do, where to go, how to move forward.

And Irina’s desk—left exactly as she had it the last time she walked out—greets you every single time you step out of the elevator and lift your eyes. Ethan didn’t want anything touched, didn’t allow anyone to clear it out, even though he sent a company-wide statement announcing that Irina’s position had been permanently dissolved, her responsibilities divided between him, the guys, Sierra, and a handful of his most trusted people.

Everyone’s working relentlessly, pushing themselves to keep up with the pace he set, trying to hold everything together. Slowly, piece by piece, things are starting to stabilize.

I’ve spent my days caught in a constant back-and-forth—wanting to call him, to send a message, to explain that things aren’t what they seemed… and forcing myself, over and over again, to accept that it’s over, that maybe it’s better to leave it alone.

I keep thinking that maybe, for him, none of it matters anymore. That trying to explain myself would only make me look foolish.

In the end, what we had was a relationship built on sex. And Ethan doesn’t waste time on things he considers insignificant.