Chapter 8
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Ethan’s lips curled into a faint smile. With a calm authority, he gave a simple command to his security team:
“Clear the area.”
A sleek black SUV glided to a stop in front of us. As the door swung open, Ethan leaned in, his breath brushing my ear.
“Olivia,” he murmured, “Lily’s room at the Pei mansion is already filled with all her favorite toys.”
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The engine roared to life, drowning out Nathan’s frantic shouts behind us. Reporters swarmed him with relentless questions. Through the rearview mirror, I caught a final glimpse of Wendy—collapsed on the pavement, mascara streaking down her face as the twins wailed in her arms. The camera flashes blurred into the descending twilight.
But none of it mattered anymore.
Life at the Pei mansion was calm, warm, and unexpectedly healing. Ethan made it his mission to fill every day with Lily’s laughter. He spoiled her with plush toys, bedtime stories, and homemade pancakes on Sundays.
But it was the way he looked at *me* that unsettled my carefully guarded heart.
That gaze—soft, adoring, and patient—carried the kind of love I had long forgotten how to receive. It made me want to retreat. Yet somehow, I never did.
That evening, after Lily had drifted off to sleep, Ethan appeared with two glasses of wine in hand. His tone was quiet but firm.
“Some wine?” he asked—not as a suggestion, but as a gentle insistence.
It was a far cry from the awkward teenager who once clung to me and called me "big sister". The boy I had saved from a burning building had grown into a composed, commanding man—the future head of the Pei Group.
Under the warm lamplight, Ethan sat beside me and silently reached for my hand. His thumb brushed over the faint indent on my finger—where a wedding ring used to rest. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to.
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