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“It wasn’t easy for her,” Colt admits quietly, and I turn toward him, surprised by his softer tone. “But yes, she got through it.”

And I can’t tell whether he’s referring only to the situation with her parents, or to what happened between her and me.

But why do I even think about that? What happened between us was the consequence of her decisions. I have no reason to feel guilty if my actions made that period harder for her.

Last night, she didn’t come back to the room after the exchange we had.

I heard her sneaking in early this morning, moving cautiously, like she hoped I’d be asleep.

She went straight into the shower, then left the room again without a word.

I haven’t seen her since. I’ve spent all day in my office—that’s where Dad, Mathew, and Colt found me when they came in.

I don’t understand what game she’s playing. She was the one who decided she needed to see other people. And last night, it was obvious she was jealous.

Why be jealous of a situation you created?

She knew exactly what I asked from her. She knew I don’t play games. I don’t have time, and I don’t enjoy them. I’m direct, honest—the same in business and in my personal life.

“Well,” Mathew says as he straightens up, smoothing the front of his shirt, “I’m glad the construction is going as planned.”

“You should come to dinner with us, Ethan,” Dad adds with a short laugh. “Unless you want your mother to drag you out herself.”

Colt and I rise from our seats, the three of them joking as we walk out—complaining about how difficult it was to explain to the moms that yes, I live like this, buried in work, even on weekends, even on holidays.

“It was time to stop working for the day, baby,” my mother scolds the moment I step into the living room.

“You can’t work that many hours every day, Ethan,” Maya adds as she wraps her arms around me. “It’s unhealthy, and honestly, it’s a shame.” She winks mischievously. “You’re so handsome, you should at least give the women the chance to admire you.”

Everyone bursts into laughter and commentary around us.

And, completely involuntarily, my eyes shift toward Thalia.

She’s rigid in the kitchen, a knife in one hand, her posture locked in place, her gaze piercing and accusing.

“Jesus, Maya,” I mutter freeing myself from her hug. “Let’s not start the sex talk again.”

“Why not?” Nick asks from the couch. “You all seemed to enjoy it when I was the main target.”

“You’re having sex with their daughter,” I shoot back, my tone deliberately casual as I lean against the counter, enjoying every second of this. “That’s completely different.”

As expected, Zayn and Liam groan loudly from their seats at the table, both dropping their heads back as if the ceiling suddenly became fascinating.

Sierra tries, and fails, to hide a laugh, her shoulders shaking visibly.

And Nick?

Nick looks between me and Thalia with that infuriating smirk tugging at his lips, his eyes sparkling with a promise of trouble he’s absolutely willing to deliver.

Let him.

He can say whatever he wants. I’m not even remotely intimidated.

But Thalia?

I turn my head just enough to look at her again.

She’s still in the kitchen, still holding that knife, but her posture has changed. Her fingers curl tighter around the handle, her knuckles whitening. Her jaw clenches almost imperceptibly, as if she’s trying to hold back a reaction she doesn’t want anyone to see.