Ethan's POV
The night sky stretched endlessly above me, the stars scattered like tiny fragments of light against the vast darkness. A breeze rustled through the trees, carrying with it a quiet stillness that settled deep in my bones.
I leaned against the balcony railing, inhaling the cool night air as memories from the past clawed their way back into my mind.
It had been years, yet the weight of that night still lingered like a ghost I couldn't shake off.
I closed my eyes, and I remembered everything vividly, just as it had happened yesterday.
Five Years Ago
"Hey, Ethan, are you sure you don't want to go home to your father's house? Your dad is waiting for you." Vince's voice was firm, but there was an edge of frustration to it.
I barely glanced at him from where I was sprawled on the plush leather sofa with a glass of whiskey. Carla was curled up in my lap, tracing slow circles on my jaw, her touch light and teasing.
She had been flirting with me since we met at Vince's birthday party two years ago. And I let her. Not because I felt anything for her but because it was easier to let someone like Carla occupy the space beside me than to deal with the endless line of women trying to use my name as a stepping stone to luxury and power.
They all wanted the same thing. A piece of the Almendraz name. A life of wealth. A guarantee of status. And I wasn't interested. So, I kept Carla close. It kept the others away.
"I'm throwing a party tomorrow night at Eighty Eight Bar downtown," I announced, ignoring Vince's question. "Make sure you come. Don't be late."
Vince sighed heavily. "Ethan, you can't do that. It's your dad's birthday tomorrow, " he said, disappointed. I rolled my eyes, my irritation rising.
"How much did my old man pay you to convince me to go home?" I asked, and Vince's jaw tightened.
"Uncle Isagani didn't pay me anything, you asshole," he snapped. "He's your father, and you need to be there. You're his eldest son."
I let out a humorless chuckle.
"My only son," I corrected him, shrugging. "And the biggest disappointment."
Vince's eyes darkened. "You know that's not true." He let out as I looked away.
But it was true. My father made sure I never forgot it.
"You should go," Carla murmured, pressing a kiss to my neck. "Be a good son for once, Ethan." I scoffed, pulling away.
"My decision is final," I said flatly. "No one can change my mind, not you, not Vince, and certainly not my father."
Vince exhaled sharply, shaking his head.
"He's your dad, Ethan," he muttered. "For heaven's sake."
"He's a businessman," I corrected, leaning back into the sofa. "And he wants to make me his pawn."
Vince clenched his fists. "You're his son," he said, his voice firm. "As his eldest child. It's your duty to follow in his footsteps. You're lucky to be his heir." My cousin responded, and I snapped.
I let out a hollow laugh. "Lucky?"
I turned to face him fully, my expression hard.
"I wanted to be a painter, Vince. A fucking artist," I said, my voice laced with bitterness. "And you know what my father told me?" Vince remained silent.
"He said I was wasting my life and I'd never succeed. That I was nothing without him." I added. Vince's lips pressed into a thin line.
"And you know what's funny?" I added, my voice cold. "I listened to him. I studied economics instead of fine arts." I let out another humorless chuckle.
"And now? Now, I don't even want to work for him."
Vince sighed, rubbing his temples. "You're hardheaded, Ethan. Your dad just wants what's best for you."
I scoffed. "What's best for him."
Vince shook his head. "You can't be a successful painter overnight." He said.
"I don't care," I replied.
"How are you going to do that if you keep partying every damn night?" He asked, and I clenched my jaw.
Vince exhaled, "I don't know what's gotten into you, Ethan. It feels like I don't even know you anymore." Without another word, my cousin turned and left.
The next day, I woke up late.
A pounding headache greeted me the moment I cracked my eyes open, a cruel reminder of the alcohol I had drowned myself in the night before. My body felt heavy and sluggish, and my mouth was dry as sandpaper.
The first thing I noticed was my phone vibrating on the bedside table. There had been so many missed calls from my dad's secretary, my mom, and my sister, Vanessa.
I ignored them all. I wasn't in the mood to deal with whatever lecture was waiting for me.
Instead, I called my friends.
"Party at Eighty Eight Bar tonight," I announced, my voice hoarse from the previous night's drinks.
Excitement buzzed on the other end of the line. It was going to be another legendary night.
The night came fast, and it was what I expected it to be. People flooded the bar, the music pulsing through the floor, and the air thick with alcohol and expensive perfume.
Everyone came except Vince, and that pissed me off. I knew where he was, at my father's birthday party.
Sitting at his table. Playing the perfect family member while I was here, living my best life. The thought irritated me, so I drank more than I should have. I danced until my legs ached.
And whenever someone asked if they could order another round, I waved them off with a smug grin.
"Whatever you want. It's on me." I responded.
The bill must've been insane, but it didn't matter. I had money, or so I thought. The bar manager approached me near closing time, handing me the check. I barely glanced at it before pulling out my black card with a smirk.
He came back and told me my card had been declined. I frowned.
"Try again," I instructed.
The manager nodded, disappearing to the counter.
A few minutes later, he returned—his face tense.
"Ethan, I'm sorry," he said carefully, "but your card has been declined." My entire body froze.
"What?" My drunken haze lifted slightly.
"We tried swiping it three times. Same error." He muttered.
That wasn't possible. I handed him another card and another, and the same thing happened. A cold panic slithered up my spine.
I laughed, shaking my head. "That's ridiculous. There must be a mistake."
The manager hesitated. "Do you have another form of payment?"
I stared at him, dumbfounded.
My father, it had to be him; my dad cut me off.
The realization hit me like a bomb. I had no backup, and there was no money or other way to pay since I didn't usually withdraw cash.
The humiliation burned through me as I fumbled for my phone, my fingers shaking as I dialed the only number I could think of.
Vince.
"Come get me." That was all I could say when Vince picked up the call. I could hear the exhaustion in his sigh, but he came and paid the bill.
He dragged me out of there like I was a helpless child. And I hated every second of it.
I drove recklessly on the way back, my thoughts a chaotic mess.
And then,
Crash.
A loud impact, metal twisting, screams as my car slammed into another vehicle, jerking my body violently.
For a second, everything blurred. The next thing I knew, there were flashing red and blue lights.
A police officer yelled at me. I was drunk and reckless. And when the officer reached for my wrist, I lost it.
Swinging.
Yelling.
Fighting.
I didn't even know why. And that's how I ended up in jail, and Vince bailed me out and helped me again.
He looked at me with disappointment as we sat in his car.
"You need to go home, Ethan." He declared.
I scoffed. "Home? And do what, Vince? Get lectured by my father?"
He shook his head, exhaling. "You don't get it, do you?" I turned my head to look at him.
"You have nothing left," he muttered.
I clenched my jaw.
He was wrong.
I had myself, and that was enough. As we arrived at my penthouse, I stumbled toward the door, pressing my passcode into the keypad, but my passcode was denied.
My breath hitched.
I tried again.
Access Denied.
Vince let out a sigh. "Ethan—"
"I didn't forget my password!" I snapped, my frustration boiling over. "Something's wrong—"
Before I could finish my sentence, a fist slammed into my face. The impact sent me staggering backward, pain exploding through my jaw.
Before I could react, another blow struck my gut, knocking the breath from my lungs as I collapsed onto the ground. I gasped, struggling to catch my breath, and then I froze.
When I looked up, I saw my father standing over me. His face twisted in disgust, his eyes burned with rage, his fists still clenched at his sides.
I had never seen him this angry before, and suddenly, my limbs felt weak.
"What have you done, Ethan?" he hissed. "Why do you insist on shaming this family?" His words cut deeper than any punch.
"You had everything. And yet, you chose to throw it away." His voice was sharp. Final.
"I have had enough with you," Dad added, and I barely had time to process before he delivered the next blow.
"I've frozen all your accounts, including your black card." His words sent a shockwave through me.
I couldn't breathe and couldn't think.
"Starting today," he said coldly, "you're on your own." My entire world tilted.
"You'll be working at Adriana's farm," he continued. "If you ever want my support again, you'll have to earn it."
I staggered to my feet, fury burning inside me.
"No," I growled. I am not your puppet," I yelled, and a hand struck me again, hard, sharp, and final.
"You are nothing without me, Ethan." He yelled back.
I wiped the blood from my lips. And then I looked at him straight into his eyes. And with the coldest voice I had ever used, I spoke.
"Today, you lost a son," I said as I tried to strengthen up. His face barely flinched, but something in his eyes shifted. I turned on my heels and walked away without a second glance.