Ellen’s POV

The tension in the parlor, with Zeke and Father present, was stifling. I fought to maintain composure, but my thoughts kept returning to the events leading up to this meeting.

A few hours earlier, Mr. Finley had called, informing us that Zeke was en route. The news sent a shiver of anticipation through me.

Yesterday, after instructing Mr. Finley to contact Zeke, we’d waited anxiously for his reply, which was expected today.

I’d already chosen a suitable outfit in anticipation of his visit. After Mr. Finley’s call, I retreated to my room to collect myself. I drew a bath, letting the warm water soothe my nerves while my mind raced.

After drying, I put on my favorite black silk blouse and skirt—a sexy number that clung to my curves. Satisfied with my appearance, I went downstairs.

“You look stunning, Ellen,” Father complimented as I approached the dining table.

“Thank you, Father,” I replied, smiling at the rare compliment. It was even better that Liz and Gabriel were in detention; it made it easier to gain Father's attention.

“Have a seat, Ellen, let’s eat,” Mother said, gesturing to a chair beside her.

“Isn’t Zeke here yet?” I asked, scanning for him.

“Not yet, but I’ve asked Finley to keep calling him,” Father replied.

Lunch had been announced, but Zeke arrived closer to dinner. The doorbell’s chime made my heart leap. Taking a deep breath, I opened the door, my gaze immediately drawn to Zeke.

He stood tall and imposing, his dark hair slightly tousled, as if he’d run his fingers through it in frustration. His intense, piercing eyes met mine, and I felt a jolt of fear and excitement.

His physique was as impressive as ever—broad shoulders tapering to a lean waist, every muscle defined under his tailored suit. His demeanor was cold, but I led him to the parlor where Father waited, my mind a whirlwind of emotions. How would this unfold? Would he believe me? Would he fall for our trap?

Then he spoke: "If these accusations are proven false, you will all regret this day. You will wish you’d never been born.”

His words chilled me. The room felt colder, and I hugged myself, fighting off the dread. Zeke’s gaze remained unwavering, his threat hanging heavy. Father remained composed, but I saw the tension in his clenched fists.

“Zeke,” I said, my voice trembling slightly, “I never lied to you. I was hurt when you left, but I never meant to deceive you.”

I’d cried enough to convince the dead, but Zeke seemed to have sealed his heart against me. My tears no longer moved him.

He stood, his movements slow and deliberate, and walked out, leaving a trail of tension in his wake. I watched him go, my heart pounding. Only after the door closed could I breathe.

Father placed a hand on my shoulder, his grip firm. “Ellen, we need to be careful. Zeke is dangerous, and we can’t afford mistakes.”

“I know, Dad,” I replied, my voice shaky. “I just hope we can keep him from finding out.”

He nodded, his eyes filled with concern. “We’ll figure this out. Stay strong.”

Torn between following Zeke and staying home, I remembered packing some luggage in anticipation of a positive outcome, but now I was unsure what to do.

“Ellen,” Father snapped, breaking my thoughts. “Go! Now!”

I didn’t need to be told twice. I rushed to a housekeeper, barely controlling my panic. “Get my boxes of clothes from my room! Quickly!”

She nodded and ran upstairs. I paced anxiously in the foyer, replaying Zeke’s warning. Father maintained his composure, but I knew he was as worried as I was. We couldn’t afford a slip-up.

Minutes later, the housekeeper returned with a small suitcase. I grabbed it and ran out the door, my heart pounding.

Approaching Zeke’s car, he barked at me, his voice filled with frustration and contempt. “Get lost!”