Page 77 of Broken Rivalry

There’s a pause on the other end, and then he says, “Congratulations. I knew you could do it.”

I scoff, “No, you didn’t. You always believed I’d fail.”

His smirk is low and mirthless. “Did I? Perhaps I only said that to ensure you had the fire, the drive to prove me wrong. I’ve always known that nothing motivates you more than that.”

I grind my teeth, trying to keep my temper in check. “That might’ve been true once, but things change.”

“Ah, Miss Donovan,” he says, drawing out the words.

I tense, every muscle in my body going rigid. “I’ll be taking the plane now.”

“It’s waiting for you,” he replies smoothly. “I’m nothing if not a man of my word.”

I let out a humorless laugh. “That’s debatable.”

There’s a brief silence, and then he says, “You’ve achieved a lot, Ethan. But remember, life isn’t only about business deals and proving others wrong. Sometimes, it’s about the choices we make and the people we choose to have by our side.”

His words, strangely introspective for him, catch me off guard. “Is that advice or a warning?”

“Take it as you will,” he says with a smidge of mystery.

I hang up, the weight of our conversation pressing down on me. The thought of facing Poppy again sends a mix of anticipation and dread coursing through my veins. With nothing in my way, how will I mend our rift? The uncertainty weighs heavily on me.

Chapter 25

Poppy

The living room is dimly lit, the dim glow from my laptop screen illuminating the room. I scroll through various university and college websites, my heart heavy with the weight of the decision I am considering. The idea of transferring feels like a desperate attempt to escape the looming shadow of Ethan. But the worst part? I miss him. Terribly.

I hate myself for it. How can I miss someone who’s caused so much turmoil in my life? Someone who’s lied and manipulated me, making me believe that my luck has really turned? And yet I do because, deep down, I know it isn’t only about him. I knew from the first moment I let him in that it was not possible, and yet, I let my love for him grow. But he stomped on that love, which I always knew he would.

With a heavy sigh, I dismiss the hopeful tab and click on another university link. The reality hits hard; without my scholarship, I can’t simply up and leave. And the last thing I want is to owe anything more to Fitzgerald Hawthorne.

He kept his promise. But with Ethan’s absence stretching for almost two weeks, it’s clear he went above and beyond his words.

It probably serves his interests as much as mine, I think bitterly. It would be mortifying for his son to bring the daughter of his disgraced employee to the Christmas party.

Yet, despite the silence I think I want, I find myself glancing at my phone. Ethan’s calls and messages were incessant at first, each one a painful reminder. But then Eva left, and I felt even more isolated. Nessa, ever the protective friend, stepped in, becoming the rock I desperately needed. And now, as the days drag on, my phone remains eerily silent. Six days and counting.

This silence, this distance, it’s what I had asked for, isn’t it? Then why does every silent moment, every unlit notification, hurt even more than before? I huff, leaning back on the sofa. Staring blankly at the ceiling. The shadows seem to dance mockingly, echoing my inner chaos.

Get a grip, Poppy Donovan, I mentally scold myself. He’s just a guy. But even as I try to convince myself, deep down, I know it’s not that simple. Ethan Hawthorne isn’t just any guy. He’s the one who challenged me, the one who betrayed me, and the one I can’t seem to forget, no matter how hard I try.

The front door creaks open, and Nessa walks in, her face lighting up when she sees me sitting in the living room instead of being locked up in my bedroom. Behind her is Eva, looking much more peaceful, her trip clearly having done her good.

“Poppy!” Eva exclaims. She rushes over, and instantly, we’re wrapped in a tight embrace.

Pulling back, I smile. “Welcome back, Eva. How is your father doing?”

She shrugs but keeps my hand in hers. “He’s okay. He met someone, but he was worried about telling me.” She rolls her eyes. “Mom died four years ago. I’m happy he’s finding love again.”

I pull her into another hug. I love how gentle and selfless she is.

“What’s that?” Nessa asks, her voice dripping with suspicion.

I glance up to see her squinting at my laptop screen, a frown on her face.

“I’m… exploring some options,” I reply when she looks at me, trying to sound nonchalant.

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