They were husband and wife—no matter how intimate their actions, it was all within reason.
Even if it happened in the car, it was still within the confines of their private garage. There was no real need to hide.
She was afraid of being seen. He, naturally, would never allow her to be seen in such a state by anyone else.
Just as Elena Shen tried to escape from Ethan Jiang's embrace and retreat to the car floor, he had been about to drape his suit jacket over her.
She didn't need to do anything.
She didn't need to be afraid.
He would always shield her.
But the very moment she saw the figure outside—Adrian Jiang—she pushed Ethan away by instinct, curling herself toward the shadows.
So desperate not to be seen?
Or rather—
So desperate not to be seen by Adrian?
Panic flashed across Elena's face. As the motion-sensor lights dimmed once more, hidden beneath Ethan's suit jacket, she failed to notice the growing darkness within his eyes.
Outside, Adrian's voice pierced through again as he knocked tentatively on the window.
The sensor lights flicked on again.
Illuminating the car's interior in stark clarity.
"Brother?"
Ethan's gaze darkened as he stared down at the girl with tear-bright eyes looking up at him—his chest heavy with a smoldering unrest that refused to dissipate.
It had started a few days ago—when she had concealed Adrian's visit to her apartment from him, and swelled further last night, as she murmured Adrian's name again and again while trembling in his arms.
She was young. She and Adrian shared years of childhood memories. Ethan had told himself again and again not to take such things to heart.
He had thought he had suppressed those dark, unwelcome emotions.
But now, he realized—he hadn't.
The shadows in his eyes grew heavier, thick like midnight ink.
Beneath the calm surface, emotions boiled—a storm roiling under still waters, waves threatening to rise, only to be held back by sheer force of will.
Outside the car, Adrian's voice continued.
Ethan finally looked away from Elena and lowered the window just a few inches.
Adrian paused. "Brother, why are you parked here? Why aren't you upstairs?"
Suspicion lingered in his gaze.
He instinctively leaned forward, trying to peer through the gap.
But Ethan had only rolled down the window a sliver—just enough for Adrian to see his older brother seated in the backseat. Nothing else.
Adrian withdrew, curiosity still simmering behind his eyes.
But Ethan gave him no chance to press further.
"Long day of meetings. I was tired and wanted to rest in the car for a bit."
As he spoke, his gaze settled on Adrian's face. Then he asked in return, "And what are you doing here at the Hillside Residence so late?"
The car window was made of one-way glass. Adrian couldn't see inside, but Ethan's gaze felt unnervingly direct.
Adrian instinctively dropped his line of inquiry and handed over a folder.
"I've acquired a few small companies—starting a new project. Need your signature on this."
Ethan took the folder, flipped briefly through the first page, then turned to the end. Retrieving a pen from the console, he signed his name fluidly.
As he passed the folder back, he asked casually, "Didn't you always hate projects and documents? What got you interested in acquisitions all of a sudden?"
Adrian chuckled lightly. "Can't stay reckless forever. And to be honest, the entertainment industry is getting boring. Thought I'd try a new field—see what happens."
"Oh, by the way," he added, glancing toward the car, "It's late,Elena's not back yet?"
Ethan lowered his gaze, letting it fall on the girl curled against the car door—her eyes silently pleading.
His lips moved, voice flat, emotionless: "Not yet."
At no point did Ethan open the door or step out of the car.
Adrian took the hint—his brother wasn't in the mood to chat.
He didn't linger. After a few words of idle talk, he said, "It's getting late. I'll head back now. You should rest early too."
Ethan gave a curt nod.
Adrian turned toward the garage exit.
As soon as Elena saw Adrian leave, she finally began to breathe again. She massaged her numb calves, just about to sit up—
When a sudden force yanked her by the waist, dragging her straight into Ethan's chest.
"Ah!"
She gasped, colliding hard against his shoulder.
Before she could steady herself, he gripped her chin and claimed her lips.
"Mmph… mm!"
Pain blossomed between her lips and teeth. Elena furrowed her brows in shock, tears welling up almost instantly.
They had kissed many times since their marriage—even if they'd only slept together twice.
But never had it hurt like this.
Usually, the only discomfort comes from how long the kisses lasted—the faint sting from overdrawn friction.
But this time, from the first touch, it was raw, almost punishing.
A coppery taste lingered. Had he broken the skin?
Elena ignored the ache in her legs and tried to push him away, but he trapped her waist again and kissed her deeper, rougher.
Outside, as Adrian walked past several parked cars, his fingers absentmindedly twirled his keys, thinking about the acquisition.
Then he heard something.
A girl's startled cry, brief and muffled, drifts faintly from behind.
He froze.
Almost instinctively, he turned to look at the dark silhouette of Ethan Pullman.
The car window had just slid shut.
He couldn't see anything inside.
But the voice—it sounded familiar.
Too familiar.
Adrian gripped his car key tighter.
Was it just his imagination? Or was Elena also inside that car?
He took two steps back toward the vehicle, jaw clenched.
But then, just as suddenly, he stopped.
Inside the Pullman—
Elena couldn't take it anymore.
Tears pooled at the corners of her eyes, shimmering like morning dew.
Her whole body alternated between tension and helpless slack. Her waist trembled under his grip, her lips sore, her tongue numb.
She stopped responding, struggling to break free. Just as her hand reached for the car door handle—
He seized her again. Pulled her into him. Her dress, already wrinkled, was torn open without warning.
She froze, dread flooding through her veins.
"No… not here…"
"Why not?" Ethan's voice was flat. Empty of warmth. His eyes, dark and unreadable, showed no trace of emotion. One hand pinned her wrists; the other continued stripping her clothes without hesitation.
"Elena," he said lowly, "we're married. It doesn't matter where we are."
The air in the sealed car turned thick, hot, suffocating.
Elena clenched her fingers tight. She nearly bit through her lip.
Tears rolled silently down her cheeks, soaking into the shadows beneath her eyes.
Even her breaths carried the sound of stifled sobs.
When his grip on her waist tightened to the point of numbness, she finally realized—
Something was wrong with him tonight.
By the time they stepped out of the car, the corners of Elena's eyes were red.
The garage had a private elevator to the third floor.
Ethan didn't take her through the main hall.
He carried her directly to the bedroom—without a word.