CHAPTER 192: INTRUSION III

Ethan slammed into the suite like a storm ripping loose from hell itself, the heavy door crashing back against the wall with a boom that shook the entire frame.

The sound exploded raw in the quiet room, echoing off the high tray ceilings painted soft gold, bouncing off the marble floors veined white and gray, off the silk wallpaper shimmering faint under the massive chandelier dripping crystals that tinkled soft and scared.

His chest heaved hard and violent, breath coming in hot, ragged bursts that burned his throat raw, nostrils flaring wide like a bull ready to charge, face twisted dark purple with rage that boiled up from his gut like acid eating him alive from the inside out.

He didn’t stop at the door.

The rage was too hot, too thick, choking him blind, turning his vision red at the edges, heart pounding so loud in his ears it drowned everything else.

He grabbed the first thing his eyes landed on—a heavy crystal vase on the entry table, and hurled it across the room with a roar that came from the depths of his soul.

It flew—spinning slow in the air—then shattered loud against the far wall—CRASH—glass exploding in a thousand glittering shards.

Next the bar stool—tall and sleek, leather padded black, heavy base—he kicked it hard with the side of his shoe, boot connecting solid—crack—leg splintering loud like bone, stool toppling with a heavy thud that shook the floor deep, rolling slow and drunken across the rug till it slammed into the sofa arm, leather tearing faint with a soft rrrip.

"Fuck!" he roared again.

He stormed deeper into the suite, hands shaking violent like they had a life of their own, veins standing out thick and blue on his forearms as he ripped the tie clean off his neck—silk whispering soft then snapping faint with a sharp rip that satisfied something dark inside.

Tossed it like trash into the corner where it landed soft on the ruined petals, stained faint pink from blood on his knuckles where skin had split.

His jacket followed—yanked off shoulders rough and frantic, seams straining loud like they might tear, thrown hard onto the couch.

The room was luxury turned into pure chaos—king bed massive and white and mocking in the center, sheets still rumpled faint from where he’d sat earlier planning his perfect night, pillows scattered like casualties across the floor, one burst open from his kick, feathers drifting lazy in the air conditioner breeze.

He grabbed a champagne flute—crystal thin and delicate, stem long and elegant like Serena’s fingers—and hurled it at the mirror with everything he had.

"FUCK!" he screamed again, voice breaking hoarse and raw, kicking the bucket hard.

He paced wild—back and forth faster, shoes squishing wet in the spill, pants legs darkening cold and clinging to skin, soaking through socks.

Hands raked through his hair hard again and again, pulling strands loose that fell soft to the floor, face contorted ugly, teeth bared like an animal cornered and ready to bite.

Breath hissed through clenched teeth sharp and fast, chest burning fire, heart slamming so hard it hurt deep like it might burst his ribs.

The rage boiled—hot, thick, blinding, consuming everything.

He punched the wall again—fist slamming drywall hard, thump dull then crunch, knuckle splitting open fresh, blood smearing red and hot on white paint, dripping slow down his fingers, down his wrist.

"Motherfucker," he hissed low and shaking, voice trembling rage and pain.

"Mother fucker."

He grabbed a pillow—thick, feather-stuffed, embroidered gold—ripped it open savage, feathers exploding white and soft into the air, drifting slow like snow in the AC breeze, sticking to sweat on his skin, to blood on his hand.

Grabbed the bedside lamp—heavy brass base—hurled it hard, cord yanking from the wall with a spark faint, lamp crashing into the dresser, shade crumpling, bulb popping loud.

Grabbed the remote again—hurled it at the TV—crack louder, screen spiderwebbing more, news still muttering faint about Apex bankruptcy, voices tinny and mocking.

He sank onto the bed edge heavy—mattress dipping deep, springs groaning loud and tired—head in hands, fingers digging hard into scalp, pulling hair painful, breath coming in short, sharp bursts that hurt his chest.

Blood from his knuckle smeared his forehead faint, mixing with sweat salty.

The room spun faint and the door opened soft—hesitant, creaking faint on expensive hinges, light spilling in golden from the hall.

His parents stepped in slow—father first, tall and silver-haired, suit still impeccable navy perfect but face lined deeper sudden with worry, eyes wide taking in the wreckage slow—shattered glass glittering dangerous on marble, water spreading shiny, petals crushed and dying, furniture toppled pathetic.

Mother behind—gown emerald flowing elegant still, diamonds heavy at throat and ears flashing light, but hand pressed hard to mouth, eyes filling instant with tears that shimmered wet under chandelier.

"Ethan—" father started gentle, voice cracking faint, stepping careful over glass crunching soft under shoe.

Mother rushed forward—heels clicking rapid then muffled soft on rug—arms out wide, face crumpling hard. "Baby, oh my God, what happened? The room—look at this place—oh honey—your hand, you’re bleeding—"

Ethan spun on them slow—eyes wild and red, chest heaving violent, blood on knuckles shining wet under light.

"Get out," he snarled low, voice shaking hard, trembling rage. "Just—get the fuck out."

But they didn’t.

His Mother reached him first—arms wrapping tight around his waist desperate, hugging hard, perfume floral warm enveloping like childhood he didn’t want now.

"Shh, shh, my boy. Breathe slow. Just breathe. It’s your wedding day. You’re married now. To Serena. The woman of your dreams. Nothing can take that away. Nothing. No one."

Father stepped closer—hand heavy warm on shoulder, squeezing firm steady, palm callused faint from years.

"Son. Listen to your mother. Whatever happened out there—it’s noise. It’s nothing. You won the prize. She’s yours. Forever. Don’t let some ghost from the past ruin the best day of your life. You’re better than this. Stronger."

Ethan’s breath hitched hard—rage cracking faint under touch, shoulders sagging slow heavy. He sank deeper onto bed edge, mattress dipping low, hands dragging slow over face again, blood smearing faint on cheek, mixing sweat.

Room spun faint—champagne sour thick, glass crunching, petals sticking.

Door pushed open again—soft, hesitant, handle turning slow.

Serena stepped in—gown still perfect ivory silk glowing soft under light, train trailing long flowing behind like dream fading, veil pushed back gentle, hair curls escaping elegant soft waves, face pale but beautiful, eyes red-rimmed faint holding back, lips trembling.

She stopped just inside, door closing soft—click final—eyes locking Ethan, flicking quick parents, back slow.

Silence thick awkward heavy wet wool.

Serena broke first—voice soft shaking faint, hands twisting gown fabric, knuckles white.

"I swear... I didn’t invite him. I didn’t know he was coming. If I did... I would’ve stopped him. Told him no. I asked Mom—she said she didn’t invite him either. No one did. I promise."

Words hung—pleading desperate, eyes wide wet shimmering.

Ethan’s face twisted harder—rage flaring fresh hotter, eyes narrowing slits burning. Stood sudden—towering slow, suit rumpled bad, tie gone, shirt open throat, sweat shining. Stepped closer—slow deliberate, eyes locked burning hate.

"I don’t believe you," he hissed low, voice shaking violent trembling fury. Stood inches from her, heat radiating.

"You fucking invited your ex-boyfriend to our wedding. Why? To humiliate me? To show everyone you’re still his whore?"

Serena’s eyes widened—shock flashing fast, then fury rising hot. "What? No—Ethan, I—"

"You wanted him there," he cut off sharp, voice rising loud, stepping closer, finger jabbing air hard. "Wanted him to see you in white. Wanted him to watch while you said vows to me but thought of him. That wink before break? That look when he walked in? Tha look? You think I’m blind? You think I’m stupid?"

She stepped back faint—gown whispering silk loud quiet, train dragging petals crushed. "You’re crazy. I didn’t—"

"Crazy?" he roared, face inches hers now, breath hot ragged her skin, eyes wild red. "You looked at him like you’ve been waiting for him! Like I’m nothing!"

Her face changed—shock to ice-cold fury instant. Eyes narrowing hard, lips curling sharp.

"Who do you think you are?" she hissed, voice low lethal, stepping into him now, chin high, glaring fire. "How dare you?"

He raised hand—fast, trembling hard—palm open, rage blinding white.

It hung there—mid-air, inches her face, shaking violent.

Time froze solid.

Serena’s mouth opened slight—shock raw, eyes wide, breath caught hard. Then fury exploded—hot, violent.

She slapped hand away hard—smack loud room—stumbled back, chest heaving, gown rustling angry silk.

"How dare you," she repeated, voice shaking steel, eyes blazing pure hate. "You were going to hit me? On our wedding day? Because of him? Because your ego’s bruised?"

Ethan’s hand dropped slow—face crumpling fast, rage cracking panic, eyes wide. "Baby—no—I didn’t—I’d never— it was—"

"Shut up," she cut cold, voice blade slicing clean. "Just—shut up. Don’t touch me. Don’t speak."

She pushed past him—hard, shoulder slamming chest, gown train whipping sharp. He grabbed arm—desperate, fingers digging deep. She yanked free—violent, furious—spun fast, hand flying high.

SLAP.

Palm cracked across face—loud, stinging, perfect, sound echoing sharp off walls. Head snapped side hard, cheek blooming red instant, eyes wide shock, mouth open.

She didn’t look back.

Turned sharp—gown swirling silk loud, train dragging petals glass shards faint—walked out fast, door slamming behind—BOOM—echoing long.

Ethan stood frozen—hand slow to cheek, blood rushing hot, heart pounding wild, world spinning fast, room tilting.

Blood from lip faint where he bit it.

Breath ragged.

His parents stared—mouths open, faces pale shock.

He collapsed back onto bed—heavy, defeated, mattress dipping deep.

Serena stormed down hallway, gown train dragging heavy behind like chains, silk whispering angry against marble, heels stabbing sharp fast, click-click-click, echoing loud quiet.

Tears burned hot eyes, but she blinked back hard—wouldn’t let fall, not here, not now. Veil slipped off one shoulder, trailing loose, diamonds hair catching light faint.

Cheek stung rage flushed red, breath fast shallow, chest heaving corset tight.

Slap echoed palm—hot, stinging, good.

Didn’t regret. Not one bit.

She reached her own room, stood there—chest heaving, breath catching wet.

Then dam broke.

Tears spilled hot fast, rolling down cheeks rivers, mascara running black again, dripping ivory silk, staining faint dark.

She sank slow velvet chaise, gown pooling around like fallen cloud, hands covering face, shoulders shaking hard.

Sobs came quiet first—soft, broken—then louder, raw, echoing room, throat burning scream, slap, everything.

The door slid open slow—soft creak hinge, light spilling from hall.

She froze—breath caught sharp, tears still streaming.

Looked up slow—eyes wide, wet, shocked.

Devon stood there.

Serena’s mouth opened slight—lips trembling, voice whisper broken raw.

"What are you doing here?"