Chapter 4

"Sienna! You're here? Ethan is in a meeting inside. Do you want me to call him out for you?"

Ethan’s coworker, Justin, came out of the breakroom holding an iced Americano. When he saw me signing the visitor log at the front desk, he greeted me with a warm smile.

I held up a ziplock bag containing the key fob to the shared apartment.

"No need. Just leave this at the front desk."

He leaned in to take a closer look—the blue key fob was glaringly obvious inside the clear plastic bag.

His smile froze for a fraction of a second.

"Sienna, you guys aren't playing around, are you?"

"Just hand it to him for me, please."

"No, no, no." He grabbed my arm. "Ethan’s been living at the office the past couple of days, looking like he's ready to sue someone. Since you're already here, come on in and sit."

Before I could refuse, he pulled me toward the end of the hallway.

"The conference room is on the left. Sit down, and I’ll grab you a cup of water."

The door was slightly ajar.

There wasn't just one voice inside.

Several men were laughing, mixed with a soft, feminine chuckle—sweet, with a hint of flirtation.

"Ethan, I emailed you the design drafts. The client specifically requested this style, and it happens to be your expertise."

It was Chloe.

Through the crack in the door, I saw her.

The girl with the ponytail from the five-year-old Instagram profile picture had fully grown up. She wore an off-the-shoulder dress, her wavy hair draped over one shoulder, sitting diagonally across from Ethan, holding a custom mug.

She looked entirely at ease, as if she were having afternoon tea in her own living room.

Justin’s voice piped up from behind me. "Ethan, has Sienna cooled down yet? It’s been four days."

Ethan’s voice was flat, like he was reading a tedious weekly report.

"I don't know."

"Aren't you going to call her? She’s home alone," another male voice said.

"If she wants to throw a fit, let her. If I give in this time, how am I supposed to keep her in line in the future?"

Keep her in line.

He used that phrase.

Like training a disobedient pet.

—That was probably how he "kept in line" the cat he forced me to give away.

Chloe’s voice chimed in right on cue, low and dripping with mock apology.

"It’s all my fault. If I hadn't casually mentioned back then that I liked swing chairs, Ethan wouldn't have... Sienna must have misunderstood. Should I reach out and explain it to her?"

She called me Sienna. But her tone carried a patronizing weight.

She was actually two years older than me.

"No need." Ethan sounded slightly annoyed. "If you explain it, it’ll only make things worse.

That’s just how she is—smart with big things, but clueless about the small details. Just leave her alone for a few days, and she’ll crawl back on her own."

Leave her alone. She’ll crawl back.

Like a stray pet that would naturally find its way home once it got hungry enough.

The door was pushed open.

Justin walked in with a paper cup, and when he saw me still standing in the hallway, a look of pure embarrassment flashed across his face.

Ethan’s gaze cut through the doorway and locked onto mine.

He stood up and walked to the door.

Not to welcome me. But to block me.

He didn't want me to step into that room.

Or rather, he didn't want Chloe and me in the same space.

"What are you doing here?"

"Returning the key fob."

I handed him the plastic bag.

He looked down at it but didn't reach out to take it.

"Had enough of your tantrum?"

"Keep the key fob. The utilities for the apartment have already been transferred under your name."

A muscle in his jaw twitched.

From behind him, Chloe’s voice drifted out, perfectly pitched.

"Ethan, don't forget to reply to my email."

He didn't turn around, just gave a brief wave of his hand. It was an incredibly casual, intimate gesture.

The kind reserved only for people you knew inside out.

"Sienna, where are you staying right now?"

"None of your business."

"What do you mean 'none of my business'? The contract still has your name on it—"

"Not anymore."

He froze, but only for a second.

He probably thought I was just talking out of anger.

"Fine. Go home first. We’ll talk after I finish this project."

He finally took the key fob.

Holding the corner of the plastic bag with two fingers, as if holding something entirely trivial.

I turned and walked toward the elevator.

Before the doors closed, laughter erupted from the conference room again.

Chloe was saying something in her soft, sweet voice.

The elevator reached the lobby.

My phone buzzed. A three-second voice note from Ethan.

"Come back this weekend. The apartment needs cleaning."