Chapter 5

The S-Class sedan idled in New York traffic under the scorching afternoon sun. Ethan gripped the steering wheel, eyes on the chaotic sea of cars. In the back seat, Mr. Richards, sensing the stillness, set down his phone and leaned forward.

"So," Mr. Richards began, his tone casual but with a touch of curiosity, "what's the story with you and the lawyer? Livia, right?"

Ethan's jaw tightened almost faintly, and his eyes still focused on the congestion. "We used to know each other," he said after a beat, keeping his voice neutral.

Richards raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Used to, huh? Well, I hope whatever history you two have doesn't cloud things too much. In fact, I'm hoping it works in my favor," he said, a cunning grin creeping onto his face. "It'd be nice to have someone on the inside pushing things along for me."

Ethan tightened his grip on the steering wheel before he forced himself to relax. "I'm sure we'll get the job done," he replied, keeping his voice as calm as possible. "Let's just hope for the best."

Mr. Richards chuckled, satisfied but vigilant. He leaned back as traffic crawled. Ethan glanced at the rearview mirror, catching Richard's arrogant look. His mind drifted to Livia, realizing the past was closer than he'd like.

As they sat in the standstill, Ethan's thoughts raced, knowing full well that Livia wasn't someone easily swayed. Whatever Mr. Richards expected, this was going to get complicated.

As the car crept forward, Mr. Richards' phone buzzed on the seat beside him. He glanced at the screen and, seeing Charles' name flash across it, immediately picked it up. "Charles," he said smoothly, "what's the update?"

Ethan, still focused on steering through traffic, could hear the low murmur of Charles' voice on the other end, though he couldn't make out the words. Mr. Richards' expression, however, told him everything he needed to know. His lips curled into a satisfied smile.

"You managed to bring it up to the equity partners?" Mr. Richards said, nodding favorably. "Good. Good." There was a brief pause as Charles continued speaking. Mr. Richards' tone shifted to one of measured patience. "I understand; take your time. I'm not in a rush, but I expect this to be handled carefully."

He leaned back into his seat, a complacent look on his face. "Don't worry, Charles. You'll be handsomely rewarded for your efforts if this goes through. Just make sure you don't get cold feet when it comes time to finalize things."

He ended the call, slipping the phone into his jacket with a satisfied sigh. Ethan's eyes stayed on the road, but the tension was palpable. Mr. Richards was manipulating the firm, and Charles eagerly followed his lead.

"Looks like things are moving along just fine," Mr. Richards said, almost to himself. "Money talks, and so does ambition."

Ethan nodded slightly, his grip on the steering wheel tightening as he absorbed the weight of what was unfolding.

Livia leaned back into the warm embrace of the soapy water, letting the smooth melody of Streets by Doja Cat fill the air. Her body relaxed as the soft foam kissed her skin, the wine glass cool in her hand. She took a slow sip, eyes closing as the weight of the day began to melt away.

But just as she settled deeper, the steam and silence stimulated something inside her. A memory, intrusive and relentless. The way Ethan's hands used to glide over her skin in a moment like this. The sound of his low, seductive voice blending with the splash of water as they once shared a bath, his touch teasing and intimate, the tension between them electric. She could almost feel him, his presence like a ghost haunting the space around her.

Her breath hitched, and her hand paused mid-motion as she absentmindedly rubbed the soap across her body. The moment felt so real that she nearly let herself fall into the longing, into the desire she had buried deep inside.

But then reality crashed back in. She jerked, eyes snapping open, furious at herself for letting him occupy even a second of her thoughts.

With a sharp inhale, she set the wine glass aside and quickly rinsed off, scrubbing away not just the soap but the remnants of the past that stuck to her. Ethan was nothing but a distant memory, a mistake she'd vowed not to repeat.

She stepped out of the tub, grabbed a towel, and wrapped it tightly around her. As she dried off, she caught her reflection in the mirror, hardening herself against the emotions building up beneath the surface.

"Never again," she whispered under her breath, as if the words could fortify her firmness. With that, she left the bathroom, the music still playing softly in the background, a nostalgic reminder of the battle she was still fighting inside.

Livia walked softly across the hardwood floor, still warm from her bath. She opened her closet, choosing soft lounge pants and an oversized sweater for comfort. After dressing, she headed to the nightstand, where her untouched anti-anxiety medications sat.

She popped the cap and downed a pill with the last sip of her wine, feeling the familiar, bitter taste hit the back of her throat. It wouldn't take long for the meds to ease the roughness of the day—the discomfort, the memories, the unwelcome thoughts of Ethan.

In the kitchen, she grabbed a couple of bars of dark chocolate, the kind that always made her feel a little better. It wasn't much, but it would do. She made her way to the couch and grabbed the remote before sinking into the cushions with a heavy sigh.

Flipping through streaming options, she chose The Good Wife. A bitter smile tugged at her lips as she hit play. She related to Alicia Florrick's complicated life, the power struggles, and blurred lines between right and wrong. But Livia's world was drenched in blood, secrets, and a legacy pulling her deeper every day.

As the first episode played, Livia unwrapped a piece of chocolate, savoring its flavor. She let herself get lost in the show, the familiar sounds and scenes taking her mind off everything for a while.

But even with the distraction, the weight of everything still hovered at the boundaries of her thoughts. She knew it wouldn't stay away for long.

Livia shifted on the couch, pulling the blanket tighter as she watched the screen. The show's sounds mixed with the city's hum, creating a dull background noise. The tension faded, the chocolate and blanket's warmth, along with the medications, easing her mind.

As the second episode dragged on, her eyelids grew heavier. She blinked, fighting it, but fatigue pulled her under. Her scrambled thoughts slipped away. The show became faint background noise as the day's tiredness caught up with her.

With a quiet sigh, Livia let herself surrender. Her tired body sank deeper into the couch, and sleep followed soon after, surrounding her in the kind of peace that only came when she was too tired to fight anymore.