Zeke’s POV

My heart skipped a beat at the mention of Ellen's name, instantly flooding my mind with memories from the day before. I knew Ellen would do something underhanded with that ridiculous story, but I didn't expect it so soon. I couldn't be distracted. I needed to sort everything out to make amends with Kamille. She'd suffered so much before I realized how much she meant to me. Blinking away my frustration, I waited for Mr. Rogers to finish his call.

Mr. Rogers remained composed, his expression carefully neutral as he listened to Mr. Finley. When the call ended, he turned to me, his brow furrowed.

"What the hell do they want now?" I muttered.

"It concerns Ms. Ellen Manor," Rogers replied gravely. "Mr. Reymond Manor wishes to speak with you. He requests your presence at the Manor mansion by noon for lunch."

I scoffed. "Who the hell does he think he is, ordering me around and intruding on my schedule without notice?"

"Mr. Reid, if I may?" Mr. Rogers asked. I nodded after a moment.

"From my conversation with Mr. Finley, they have evidence that could support a report of sexual harassment and minor physical abuse."

"So?" I asked.

"I understand your anger, but I think you should hear them out first," Mr. Rogers replied.

"Fine," I said, my mind racing. They could press charges. It would be a minor case, but it wasn't worth my time. I had Kamille and my kids to worry about. "Tell Mr. Finley I'll be there when my schedule is less busy."

Mr. Rogers nodded sympathetically. "Of course, sir. I'll pass along your message."

As he left, I sank back into my chair, consumed by the upcoming meeting. I considered what they might demand as compensation, concluding they intended to regain everything they'd lost. I sighed, pinching my forehead in frustration.

The easiest way to escape my worries was to bury myself in work, and that's exactly what I did. Hours flew by in a blur. Mr. Finley's repeated calls went unnoticed. When I finally checked the clock, it was past lunchtime. His calls remained unanswered. I smiled. No one ordered me around like I was some fucking busboy.

With a heavy sigh, I reluctantly went to the Manor mansion, already late. Arriving at the imposing gates, I braced myself.

"Mr. Rogers, please activate a pocket camera, just in case they try anything," I instructed.

"Okay, Mr. Reid."

Mr. Rogers discreetly attached the camera to my tie. I stepped out of the car and approached the mansion.

Ellen greeted me, her appearance shocking me. She was dressed provocatively, a low-cut top accentuating her cleavage, and a short skirt that rode high on her thighs.

"Once a bitch, always a bitch," I smirked.

As she led me inside, I realized this was a trap. They hoped my attraction to her, combined with what had happened, would make me feel sorry and take her back. They clearly thought they could manipulate me.

Entering the living room, I narrowed my eyes, maintaining a mask of controlled hostility. My gaze settled on Mr. Reymond Manor.

"What is the meaning of this?" I demanded.

"You're late for lunch. Help yourself first, then we'll talk—"

"I'm not here for pleasantries," I interrupted. "This is about Ellen, right?" He nodded.

"Right. Ellen, recount what happened two nights ago and the following morning," Mr. Reymond Manor said, gesturing to Ellen.

"Yes, Father," she replied, launching into her accusation-filled, self-pitying narrative. I listened with frustration and disbelief, my jaw clenched.

"You expect me to believe this fabrication?" I interjected contemptuously. "Ellen should take responsibility. She's not a child. If anything happened, it was consensual. I may have been drunk, but she was sober. She should have known better."

Mr. Reymond Manor dismissed my words, hardening his expression. He insisted on holding me accountable.

"You shouldn't have called her after breaking her heart. You abused her and threw her away like garbage," he said.

"She threw herself at a drunk man and then twisted the narrative," I said coldly.

"Mr. Reid, something happened. You're responsible until proven otherwise," Mr. Reymond Manor stated firmly.

"I've had enough," I declared. "If you continue with these accusations, I'm leaving."

"What if I'm pregnant?" Ellen yelled.

"Don't worry, Ellen, Mr. Ezekiel will have no choice but to remarry you," her father stated.

My blood boiled. His demand was an affront to everything I stood for. Beneath the rage, a cold resolve settled over me.

"Nonsense," I retorted. "I won't be coerced into a marriage based on lies. Over my dead body will I remarry Ellen?"

"Then you'll face prosecution," he declared. "You'll either take Ellen back or provide for her and any children."

"She was already pregnant before? Is that how easy it is to conceive these days?" I asked, smirking.

"I had a miscarriage and couldn't tell you because you threw me out," Ellen said, tears welling up.

It made no sense. The room spun. I knew I had to tread carefully. My reputation, honor, and time were at stake.

With a steely gaze, I fixed my eyes on Ellen, her expression feigned innocence. My voice was icy.

"If these accusations are false," I said, low and dangerous, "you will all regret the day you crossed me. You'll wish you'd never been born."

I turned and left, their expectations bearing down on me.