“The whole collection,” Ethan confirmed. “That vintage Aston Martin DB5 he was so precious about, the Jaguar E-Type, the slightly obscene Ferrari 275 GTB. Oh, and the Porsche 918 Spyder.” He shrugged. “Seemed like a fitting home for them. My garage is significantly less… morally compromised. Besides, taking Charles’s toys? That had a certain immediate satisfaction.”
Harper nearly choked on her whiskey. “I can’t believe you bought his entire car collection. That’s… impressively petty.”
“Thank you,” Ethan said with a bow. “I do try to excel at the important things.”
A genuine laugh escaped Sebastian, lighter than any sound Ethan had heard from him in weeks. “Why, Ethan? Why on earth would you do that?”
Ethan finally sat up, his expression turning a fraction more serious, though the mischievous glint in his eyes remained. “Multiple reasons, my friend. Firstly, because I could, and frankly, it’s fun. Secondly, because the man was an absolute prick to you, and it’s a small, tangible way to underscore his defeat. Every time he remembers his prized possessions are in the hands of the ‘loud American tech bro,’ it’ll be a tiny, fresh little papercut on his ego.”
Sebastian chuckled. “He did always look at you like you were personally responsible for the decline of Western civilization every time you wore trainers to a formal event.”
“Exactly!” Ethan exclaimed, pointing a finger at him. “It was the sheer, unadulterated snobbery. Like my choice of footwear was a personal affront to his lineage. He hated that I wasn’t impressed by him or his dusty titles.” He grinned.
“You really enjoy this, don’t you?” Sebastian asked.
“More than you know,” Ethan admitted. He paused, then grinned wickedly. “Also, I’m thinking of a new paint job for one of them. Something subtle. Like Cheeto orange. Maybe rename the car ‘Democracy.’”
Sebastian actually snorted. “You wouldn’t.”
“Try me,” Ethan said, his eyes sparkling. “I’ll even send him a picture. Maybe a Christmas card. ‘Having a great drive, wish you the worst.’”
“Please tell me you’re serious about the Christmas card,” Harper said, grinning. “I’ll help you write it.”
“Now you’re talking,” Ethan said, pointing at her. “See, Sebastian? Harper understands the art of a well-executed grudge.”
Sebastian leaned back, the tension that had clung to him for so long seeming to ease just a little bit more. “Seriously, Ethan… the cars… it’s surprisingly thoughtful, in your own uniquely destructive way. Thanks.”
Ethan waved a dismissive hand, though his grin softened. “Please. It’s nothing. Besides, what’s the point of having an obscene amount of money if you can’t at least use it to humiliate your enemies?”
The conversation drifted to the future—the legal battles still to come, the slow, arduous process of rebuilding the Foundation, and the ripple effect of Hawthorne’s fall.
As they spoke Ethan kept glancing between Sebastian and Harper with obvious amusement. “So, are you two going to keep pretending you’re not having some kind of epic standoff? Because honestly, the tension in here is so thick I could bottle it and sell it as an aphrodisiac.”
“We’re not—” Harper started.
“There’s no—” Sebastian said at the same time.
They both stopped, glaring at each other.
Ethan’s grin was absolutely wicked. “Oh, this is even better than I thought. What’s the fight about? Let me guess—Harper thinks Sebastian should be doing more with his newfound freedom, and Sebastian thinks Harper is trying to manage his life.”
The silence that followed was deafening.
“Bingo,” Ethan said cheerfully. “God, you two are predictable. And completely into each other, which makes this whole thing even more entertaining.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Harper said, but her cheeks had flushed.
“And wrong,” Sebastian said, not looking at her.
“Right,” Ethan said, standing and stretching. “Well, as much as I’m enjoying watching you two dance around whatever this is, I think I’ll leave you to sort it out.” He drained his glass and headed for the door. “Try not to kill each other. Though judging by the sparks flying in here, I’m not sure that’s your biggest risk.”
“Ethan!” Sebastian called after him, but he was already gone, leaving them alone with the echoes of his laughter.
After Ethan left, the silence felt different—heavier once more. Harper moved to the window, looking out at the street below. Sebastian remained by the fireplace, both of them suddenly aware they were alone again.
“Sorry about Ethan,” Sebastian said finally, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “He really doesn’t know when to shut up sometimes.”
“It’s fine,” Harper said finally, not looking at Sebastian. “We did let things get a little weird.”