Chapter 6 Chapter 6
Chapter 6
Those panic attacks again.
The scream again.
Ethan tried to focus on the file open on his laptop, but his eyes weren’t following the words anymore. They kept drifting back to that night, to that voice.
He blinked hard and rubbed his temple.
Her face flashed again.
Those eyes.
That scream.
He slammed the laptop shut, breathing fast. “I didn’t kill you,” he muttered under his breath. “I didn’t.”
His heart pounded. His shirt felt too tight around his chest.
He reached for the drawer, pulled it open with shaky hands, and grabbed the small brown pill bottle. Two pills. He swallowed them dry.
The taste of it burned down his throat.
He dragged his hand down his face, trying to pull himself together.
His reflection stared back from the glass wall red eyes and a tired face.
He hated that look.
Then a knock.
He froze. Quickly, he buttoned his collar again, adjusted his tie, ran his fingers through his hair, and sat straight.
By the time the door opened, his face had gone blank, professional like nothing happened.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Castellan,” Mrs. Angelina, the HR manager, greeted as she stepped in holding a brown file. “Here are the documents for the new staff.
Most of them have no experience yet, so I’ve placed them under the testing phase.”
“Okay,” he said flatly, voice steady now. “You can keep the files there.”
He pointed at the small table beside his desk.
She nodded, carefully set them down, and smiled politely before leaving.
The silence came back.
Ethan’s eyes lingered on the door for a moment, waiting for another knock.
Nothing.
He let out a quiet sigh, loosened his tie, and turned back to the window. From there, the city stretched far Monterey’s skyline bathed in the afternoon light.
Cars moved below like small ants. Everyone looked busy, fine, alive.
He wished he felt like that.
He leaned his forehead against the glass, breathing slow.
The faint reflection of his own face looked stranger each day. He couldn’t remember when his eyes stopped looking warm.
Then
The door swung open without knocking.
“Wow, wow, wow,” a familiar female voice cut through.
Ethan’s shoulders stiffened instantly.
He didn’t even have to look. That voice had lived in his nightmares for months.
“Amelia,” he muttered, low.
Amelia Drake Daughter of the Drake Empire.
Influential fashion designer.
CEO of Drake’s Empire Clothing.
Tall, manipulative, obsessed, and dangerously persistent.
“Do not cause a scene here, Amelia,” he said, his voice low. “Leave.”
She ignored him and walked in with her usual confidence. She was tall, blonde, and dressed to perfection. Her lips were red, and her perfume filled the whole room.
She looked like someone who enjoyed attention and she always got it.
“You think you can end things with me through a text?” she said, crossing her arms. Her tone was bitter, her eyes angry.
Ethan stood up, buttoned his jacket, and faced her directly.
“Yes. It’s over, Amelia. I don’t want anything to do with you anymore.”
She laughed short, harsh, almost mocking. “Oh, really? You forgot how you cry at night on my arms, battling those stupid mental breakdowns of yours?”
Her words hit him like a slap.
“Stop it, Amelia,” he said defensively. “This is my office. Don’t ruin my reputation here.”
“Reputation?” she repeated with a scoff.
“Oh, come on. Everyone already knows you’re broken inside.
Her tone softened for a moment, almost pleading.
“You can’t sleep without those pills. You think your pills and your pretty suits can hide that?”
His eyes flicked toward the door hoping no one was outside hearing this.
He lowered his tone. “Amelia, please. I’m not repeating myself. It’s over.”
“Not until I say it’s over,” she hissed, slamming her purse on his desk. “You used me, Ethan. You ran to me when you were at your lowest.
Every nightmare, every panic attack and now you think you can walk away like nothing happened?”
He tried to breathe steadily. His hands were cold again.
Inside, his heart was racing but his face stayed blank.
“I didn’t use you,” he said quietly. “You made me believe you cared. But all you wanted was control.”
She scoffed. “Control? I helped you, Ethan! I stayed when everyone else couldn’t stand your episodes. When your mother begged me to keep you stable!”
That hit him. He looked away sharply.
“Enough,” he said in a low, warning
tone.“Leave,” he said, his patience slipping. “Now.”
Her eyes glistened with anger. “You’ll come back, Ethan,” she said softly. “You always do. You can’t survive alone.”
She grabbed her purse and stormed out, slamming the door behind her.
The silence that followed was sharp.
Ethan stood there for a long time, breathing hard. His shoulders trembled.
He pressed both hands against the desk, bowing his head.
His reflection stared back at him from the glossy surface hollow eyes and pale skin,his lips trembling slightly.
“Why can’t you just stop showing up?” he muttered weakly.
Amelia had always been this way loud, dramatic and controlling.
He reached for his drawer again and opened it, staring at the pills.
His fingers hovered over them, but he didn’t take any this time. He just looked.
His breathing steadied a little.
The phone on his desk buzzed, snapping him back.
A message popped up from his mother.
Dinner tonight. Amelia will be joining us.
Ethan’s chest went cold.
He leaned back on his chair, staring at the message for a long time,His expression gave nothing away.
He wanted to throw the phone across the office but instead, he placed it face down on the table and rubbed his temple again.
“Not again,” he whispered.
He pushed the chair back, walked to the glass wall, and looked down at the street.
He closed his eyes again
.
That scream came back.
Louder and Sharper.
He opened his eyes quickly, hands gripping the glass. His breathing was unsteady again.
“Not now,” he whispered.
He walked back to his desk, sat down slowly, and took a sip of water. His reflection in the glass looked tired and older than his age.
He didn’t know if he was more angry or scared. Maybe both.
