Chapter 250

Ethan Sullivan drove Evelyn Laurent to the gates of the Lowell family villa.

He watched her slender figure disappear behind the wrought-iron gates before starting the engine.

The growl of the motor sounded particularly heavy in the night air.

One hand gripped the steering wheel while the other tugged impatiently at his loosened tie.

The rearview mirror reflected his furrowed brow.

At the Sullivan mansion, the butler was polishing an antique vase when he heard the door open.

"Welcome home, young master," he greeted.

Ethan tossed his car keys onto the entryway tray and draped his suit jacket over his arm.

He didn't even look up.

The study door on the second floor suddenly swung open.

Vincent Sullivan stood at the top of the stairs, teacup in hand. His hawk-like gaze gleamed behind his glasses.

"Did she accept the gift?"

"Yeah."

Ethan undid his cufflinks and sank into the leather sofa.

The material creaked faintly under his weight.

Vincent descended slowly, the porcelain cup glowing softly under the chandelier light.

"Judging by your expression, she rejected it?"

"She loved it."

Ethan stared at the crystal chandelier overhead.

The refracted light made his eyes sting.

Vincent sat across from him, studying his son's rare display of emotion with amusement.

"Then why the long face?"

"She said..."

Ethan's Adam's apple bobbed. "To stop with the superficial gestures."

An eerie silence fell over the living room.

Vincent nearly choked on his tea.

His shoulders shook with laughter, nearly spilling the drink.

"That girl...has excellent judgment!"

Ethan shot upright.

"Father!"

"Alright, alright."

Vincent wiped his mouth, though his eyes still sparkled with mirth.

"So you've been...friend-zoned?"

The chandelier swayed slightly.

Ethan's composure cracked.

"Keep this up and your future grandson might be a Lowell."

"Then that would mean..."

Vincent took a deliberate sip.

"...my son lacks charm."

The words struck like a dagger.

Ethan clenched his fists.

He remembered the clarity in Evelyn's eyes when she'd said those words in the car earlier.

She truly saw him only as an older brother.

Vincent suddenly sighed.

"Your mother was the same."

His gaze drifted past the floor-to-ceiling windows, as if seeing cherry blossoms from decades past.

"She always called me her most respected elder brother."

Ethan looked up sharply.

"What happened then?"

Vincent traced the rim of his teacup, the celadon glaze reflecting the fine lines at his eyes.

"It took me three years to teach her the difference between a brother and a husband."

His voice softened.

Only the ticking of the antique clock filled the room.

Ethan caught the fleeting glimmer of moisture in his father's eyes.

A pain he'd carried for over twenty years.

"Father..."

Ethan's throat tightened.

"How did you—"

"Listen well, son."

Vincent clapped a heavy hand on his shoulder.

"Persistence wins."

The teacup clinked sharply against the coffee table as he stood.

The chandelier stretched his shadow long across the floor.