The Billionaire CEO Betrays his Wife: He wants her back
Chapter 189: The new intern

Chapter 189: The new intern

"The last damn thing I want is to get tangled up with her again," he muttered, more to himself than Steph. His voice was rough, carrying the weight of years he’d tried to pretend didn’t matter. "She’s like a storm you can’t see coming ’til it tears through your life."

Steph crossed his arms, leaning on the edge of the desk, the ghost of a grin tugging at his lips. "Then why’s she still in your head, Ethan? I mean... You wouldn’t be this worked up if she didn’t still have a string somewhere tied to you."

Ethan shot him a sharp glare. "What do you think she wants to talk about?"

Steph shrugged like it wasn’t his problem because it wasn’t, not really. "You won’t know ’til you ask. But if I were you? I’d guess she wants something. Nobody does a murder wrap clean like that unless they’re covering for someone or hoping someone saves ’em at the last second."

That gnawed at Ethan more than he cared to admit. Because he knew Maria. Knew how sharp she was sick, how she could cry on cue and have you doubting your own guilt in five minutes flat. And maybe...maybe somewhere deep down, he still felt a sliver of guilt. If it wasn’t for his selfishness, his mistakes... Maria wouldn’t have lost everything. And neither would Mara.

But none of that mattered now. Not with Lucy’s case on the horizon like a loaded gun. "I can’t leave the country now," Ethan said, seizing on the excuse like a lifeline. "Not with Lucy’s case about to hit. After that... we’ll see."

Steph’s smirk was razor thin. He knew an excuse when he heard one, but let it slide. "Sure," he said, brushing imaginary lint off his jacket. "But I’ll tell you something, man, ghosts don’t stay buried just ’cause you stop digging."

Ethan grunted, his attention already shifting. "We’ve got a meeting about the new project at High Tower in twenty minutes. You wanna keep picking apart my disaster of a love life, or you wanna actually do your job?"

Steph barked out a low laugh, raising both hands. "Relax, boss. I can take a hint. We’ll talk about your mess later. Right now? High Tower."

He started toward the door when Ethan, stone-faced now, added coldly, "Yeah, and since you’re so keen on my personal life, maybe it’s time you get some distance. It’s about time I sent you to the North."

Steph froze for half a beat, caught off guard by the sudden frost in his friend’s voice. But then he gave a slow nod, a half-smile playing on his face.

As Ethan and Steph turned to leave, a sharp click of heels echoed behind them, and suddenly there she was: the new girl, striding confidently with that electric, untamed energy that screamed "I’m here, and I’m not gonna play small." Long curls tumbled over her shoulders like a dark waterfall, framing a face full of fire — and yeah, her outfit was definitely pushing the limits of office chic, like she’d grabbed "professional" from a thrift store clearance rack and thought "nah, this is more fun."

Ethan stared, caught somewhere between annoyed and intrigued, a flicker of something unreadable darting across his face. The resemblance to Mara wasn’t lost on either of them, but where Mara carried her strength like armor, this girl wore hers like perfume — meant to draw you in, make you dizzy.

"Hello, sir," she purred, sliding the file toward him on the desk, one manicured nail tapping the cover. "I was asked to bring you this file from Mr. Avery..."

Ethan took the folder, flipping through it, his eyes narrowing. Wait ...what was this? Whole sections were rewritten, wordings sharpened, the language twisted tighter like a knot. He blinked, puzzled.

"Who is she?" Ethan muttered, glancing at Steph.

Steph shrugged, a knowing smirk teasing his lips. "She’s the new intern. Fresh blood."

Ethan’s eyebrows shot up. "Intern? Interns copy, paste, and fetch coffee. They don’t rewrite contracts."

The girl straightened, fierce. "I thought I’d try to improve it."

Ethan’s patience snapped like a brittle twig. "Please don’t think. Just do as you’re told," he snapped, voice low but icy, shoving the file back into her hands before turning sharply away.

The poor intern stood frozen, caught between pride and confusion, the words still hanging in the air. Maybe it wasn’t just the file that ruffled Ethan maybe she reminded him too much of someone. Someone with the same fiery spirit, the same reckless edge.

As they walked away, Steph nudged Ethan lightly. "Why you gotta be so hard on her? She’s just doing her job."

Ethan’s jaw tightened. "She’s trouble. Assign her to another floor. Far from my office."

Steph gave a slow nod, watching the intern’s retreating figure with a mix of sympathy and intrigue.

The new intern, Aveline, walked back to her desk with a fire simmering beneath her skin — a mix of confusion and determination swirling like a storm inside her chest. She’d heard the whispers. The office rumor mill called Ethan the Red Devil for a reason — cold, ruthless, untouchable. But she had thought, naively maybe, that if he caught a glimpse of her brains beneath the bold exterior, maybe just maybe, he’d see her differently.

Boy, was she wrong.

"Is he like that with everyone?" she’d asked the receptionist, hoping for some mercy in the answer.

The receptionist, eyes darting around as if the walls might have ears, leaned in and whispered, "Yes, but don’t try to make him like you. He hates you. You look like his ex-wife: young, stupid, thinking the world owes you something, at least she has class. Stay far away from the Red Devil, and don’t get any ideas. The last person who tried... well, they’re in prison now."

Aveline’s lips curled into a sly, almost mischievous smile as she returned to her desk, smoothing the skirt of her skirt with a little more flair than necessary. The words echoed in her mind, but instead of fear, a spark of defiance lit up. She was beautiful, sure, sharp as a razor, and young. And damn it, if the Red Devil couldn’t deny her beauty and brains, she was ready to make him take notice.