Chapter 47:
That Night**
**Rowan** “What the hell happened to you?” Gabe’s voice cut through the dim light as he glanced at the ice pack pressed against my bruised face. “Ethan,” I grumbled, the name spilling from my lips like poison. I had no desire to engage with my brother at this moment. A fight with that idiot still ricocheted through my mind, disbelief clawing at my insides. How had I let his words rile me up so much? I was seething—pissed off and embarrassed. “The cop?” Gabe asked, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “Ava’s new man?” At that, fury ignited within me. I hurled the ice pack against the wall, the sound sharp in the stillness. “He’s not her fucking man!” I roared, rising to my feet, the anger bubbling close to the surface. Why couldn't Ava see the truth? Why was she blinded by this charade? I couldn’t shake the feeling that Ethan was a fraud. I had scoured what I could find about him—reports painted an unassuming picture of a decent guy, but something deep inside me screamed otherwise. My instincts had never led me astray before. “From what I hear, he is, so... what exactly happened?” Gabe's eyes narrowed as he considered my statement. I inhaled deeply, trying to calm the inferno within. “We were helping Ava move furniture into her new place, and he told me to back off. Said she was his, and he wouldn’t let me ruin things.” My voice was taut, each syllable laced with frustration. Gabe stared at me, disbelief etched on his features. It was as if he were trying to decode my insanity. “Seriously? That’s what set you off?” “Yes!” I shot back, my patience wearing thin. He let out a heavy sigh before sinking into the couch. “In case you haven't come to terms with it, she’s not your wife anymore. And considering he’s dating her, he has every right to ask you to back off. Isn’t that what you did when you began dating Emma?” Fists clenched, I fought to contain my irritation. Why couldn't anyone see what I did? Why couldn’t anyone understand my conviction? “It’s not about that,” I hissed, my voice rising. “There’s just something about him that isn’t right. Why can’t any of you see that?” I began pacing my office, my restlessness feeding the smoldering embers of my rage. First, I’d learned that Emma had threatened Noah, while Travis remained apathetic. And now, here I was, watching as Ethan and Ava gazed at each other like teenagers in love. It ate at me. She was utterly captivated by him, lost in some fantasy that made her blind to the reality surrounding her. Caution had always been her shield, so how had she dropped it so easily with someone like him? “What are you talking about?” he pressed, his focus unwavering as he watched me. “I can’t pinpoint it, but it’s an instinct—a gut feeling that something is off about Ethan.” It was maddening to admit, but my intuition screamed warning bells, and I couldn’t ignore it. That was why I hired a private investigator. Gabe remained silent for a moment, but when he finally spoke, I felt a surge of annoyance. “Could it be that you’re jealous of him?” “Hell no!” I roared, indignant. “Why the hell would I be jealous of him? I’ve got no feelings for Ava, remember?” His absurd conclusion surprised me. Jealous? No, I was looking out for my son. That was all there was to it. “Look, you were married to her for nine years. It’s nearly impossible to share a life with someone for that long and not develop feelings. Especially someone who isn’t completely evil,” he countered rationally. Shock flooded my thoughts as I struggled to connect the dots. “There’s no way I developed feelings for her. I stayed with her for Noah. My heart always belonged to Emma, and you know that.” I felt my defenses rising. “That’s why any feelings for Ava never took root.” Gabe’s mind seemed to be grasping at straws. It was typical—people misunderstanding the complexities of relationships. “Then explain why you’re so worked up about her dating Ethan?” “For the last time, I told you!” Frustration boiled over as I echoed my thoughts. “I wouldn’t give a damn if she dated anyone else, but there’s something fishy about that cop!” Our conversation was turning into a maddening loop, an endless spiral of his and my opinions clashing and ricocheting off one another. I’d thought he’d understand, but it seemed I was the only one who saw the glaring truth. “I won’t downplay what Ava did nine years ago—it was wrong,” he said, softening his tone. “But what if she really was telling the truth when she said she was drunk? What if there’s more to that night than we thought?” “Impossible,” I snapped. “Is it really? We all wanted you with Emma, except for Ava. After everything that happened, we needed someone to blame. It was so much easier to point fingers at the girl who had been obsessed with you than to confront the fact that you both made mistakes that night.” Silence fell as I absorbed his words, a heavy weight settling over me. What was happening? Why was he delving back into the past? I watched as he pulled out his phone, dialing a number without hesitation. “What are you doing?” I asked, distrust creeping into my voice. “Something we should have done a long time ago,” he said firmly. “I’m finding out the truth about that night.” My stomach churned with apprehension. We both knew what had unfolded; digging into the past seemed futile. But before I could voice my disapproval, Gabe was engaged in a conversation, requesting video footage from the bar and hotel, urgent urgency coloring his voice, “Get it within the hour.” Once he hung up, I glared at him. “What do you hope to achieve by unearthing this?” “Beyond seeking the truth?” He met my gaze with his steely grey eyes. “It’s time for you to confront what's beneath the bitterness. Your anger towards Ava is rooted in something deeper—something you haven’t been able to admit.” Frustration surged, and I turned sharply, taking a seat to avoid the vulnerability he was forcing me into. Just as I began to regain my composure, Gabe’s phone pinged, drawing my attention. I watched as confusion morphed into horror etched across his face. “Gabe?” I ventured cautiously, sensing the gravity of the moment. He met my gaze, silently offering his phone to me. Trembling hands took the device, dread coiling in my stomach as I braced myself for the worst. With a deep breath, I glanced at the screen, and as the video played, reality shattered around me. The events of that night unfolded, tainting the perception I had clung to for nearly a decade. Ava had spoken the truth all along. We were both intoxicated, leading to a series of miscommunications that had haunted her unfairly for years. The weight of this revelation crashed down on me. “Fuck!” I shouted, unable to contain the tidal wave of regret washing over me.