Ben kept pacing the room, his mind a storm of confusion and anger. He kept wondering what to do, where to go, or who could even handle his situation—but there was no one. Not even his father, because McDon could only make things worse.
Later that evening, Ella, moving quietly around the house, heard Ben's voice raised in fury during a phone call. His tone was sharp, trembling with suppressed rage.
"I can't lose control… not now, not again," he muttered to himself, gripping the phone tightly.
"Who do you think you are, huh, Rita?" he shouted, his voice cracking with frustration.
Ben's fury wasn't just about the call—it was about her presence, her toxic shadow returning to rattle the stability he had been building for himself. He had been working on being better, softer, calmer—but Rita's reappearance threatened to bring back the cold, hardened man he once was.
He tried everything to ignore her, to focus on his life, but his father intervened.
"If you don't dump Ella and marry Rita, you won't find it easy with me," McDon barked through the phone, his words slicing through Ben like daggers.
"You know she has all it takes to ruin us and everything I've built over decades. This won't happen," McDon added, his voice laced with control and threat.
Ben fell silent, broken. Years of trying to prove himself, to carve his own path, were ignored. His efforts are unappreciated. And worse, he was blamed for things he never did. McDon—the man people feared, respected, and obeyed—was nothing more than a manipulative father who refused to own his mistakes.
Ella stood in the hallway, silent, watching the man everyone thought invincible crumble under the weight of betrayal and manipulation.
"Aww… such a pity," she whispered, pity and empathy mingling in her voice.
In an explosion of anger and helplessness, Ben hurled his phone across the room. It shattered against the floor, pieces scattering everywhere.
"Oh my God… get a hold of yourself before you destroy everything here," Ella said under her breath, her voice a mix of concern and urgency. Ben didn't respond, storming off toward his room.
Ella followed closely, refusing to let him act recklessly.
"Hey… can I come in?" she asked gently, leaning against the edge of his door, waiting for his permission. Her eyes were soft, understanding, and steady.
"Take it easy on yourself. We'll figure this out when you're calm enough to talk," she whispered, her hands brushing over his arm to offer reassurance.
Ben's control finally broke. Tears streamed down his face as he sank to the floor, unable to hold himself together any longer.
"Nobody cares about me… nobody listens… I'm tired," he admitted, his voice raw and shattered, echoing with years of pain and neglect.
Ella knelt beside him, guiding him gently to rest his head on her lap. Her fingers stroked through his hair as she murmured, "You'll be fine… I'm here. I won't leave you."
For the first time in a long while, Ben let himself feel the safety of someone who truly cared. He wept, letting go of the fear, frustration, and loneliness that had consumed him. Ella remained by his side, a quiet anchor in the storm, holding him when he couldn't hold himself.
The room became hot as they felt the tension between them. He kissed her. And this time, their intimacy was deliberate, neither drunken nor forced, but chosen. And it felt different… like a dessert saved for the very last bite.
"I don't regret this," Ben whispered.
Ella lay beside him, feeling both satisfied and wanted. She turned onto her side, facing him, her fingers threading gently through his hair until they both dozed off.