Finding Forever After the Betrayal Chapter 11
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Ethan replayed the last few weeks in his mind, each memory a shard of glass
twisting in his gut. Violet’s withdrawal, her quiet fury over the lilies, her almost
desperate need to sell the house… it all snapped into focus, sharp and agonizingly
clear.
She’d been planning this, meticulously plotting her escape from the moment
she realized they were no longer the center of her universe. And maybe, he
realized with a chilling certainty, she’d been planning it long before that.
Hannah’s call, bubbly and oblivious, was a slap in the face.
“Ethan? Aiden? Are you guys coming? I’m at the restaurant. I ordered
champagne! We’re celebrating!”
Celebrating what? The demolition of their friendship? Hannah’s triumph?
The gaping hole in their lives that had once been filled with Violet’s warmth and
light? He stared at his phone, the screen glowing with Hannah’s name, a mocking
reminder of their betrayal.
“Ethan?” Hannah’s voice, usually so intoxicating, now grated on his nerves,
amplifying the dull ache in his chest.
“Hannah,” he finally rasped, his voice thick with a grief he could barely
acknowledge, let alone understand.“Something came up. We’re not coming. Let’s
just… let’s talk later, okay?”
12:35.
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He hung up before she could protest, tossing the phone onto the dashboard,
where it landed with a thud that mirrored the hollowness settling in his chest.
What was the point of celebrating? Violet was gone.
Aiden sat next to him, a statue of silent despair, his gaze fixed on the cracked
screen of his own forgotten phone on the floor of the car. It was as if a part of
him, the part that had always believed, with an arrogance bordering on delusion,
that he could fix anything, had shattered along with it.
“Gentlemen?”
up,
The realtor’s voice, tinged with confusion, startled them both. Aiden looked
his face drawn and pale, to see the realtor, a bewildered expression on his face,
ushering a hopeful–looking couple towards the house. The house. Their house.
“What… what are you doing here?” Aiden asked, his voice rough with an
emotion he couldn’t quite place.
“I thought… didn’t you sell the house?” the realtor stammered, his gaze
darting nervously between Aiden, Ethan, and the empty moving van parked
haphazardly in the driveway.“The contract… everything was signed.”
“We’re buying it back,” Aiden said, his voice flat, devoid of the usual charm
that had always been his armor.
The realtor’s eyebrows shot up, his expression shifting from confusion to
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understanding. Of course. These were the Peck boys. They could buy and sell
him ten times over without batting an eyelash.
“Right,” the realtor said, recovering quickly.“Of course. Well, we’ll need to
Aiden simply nodded, his eyes cold, distant. He didn’t care about the
paperwork, about the money. It was all meaningless without Violet.
He watched as Aiden, his jaw clenched tight, signed his name with a flourish
that was more of a convulsion than a signature, effectively buying back a life
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