Later that night at the Stark Manor…
Ethan stared down over a side of his compound from the balcony. He was bare-chested, lost in thoughts that circled endlessly, replaying the events of earlier.
He thought back to the things Roland had said today. He didn't blame the enforcer for his decisions.
The man was caught between survival and conscience, a position Ethan understood all too well.
Roland had a family to protect, secrets that could ruin him, and Edgar Desdemona wielded both like weapons. It wasn't about being weak or complicit. It was about being cornered.
Ethan exhaled slowly. He barely noticed when his room door opened.
Hayley stepped in quietly with a small plate in her hand. She paused for a moment, watching him, then walked over to stand beside him.
"You're still brooding," she said.
Ethan let out a soft tired laugh as he turned toward her. His eyes dropped to the plate in her hand. "What's that?"
