A Seven-Year Obedience Test Chapter 05
I pulled my hand free from his grip, my voice cold.
“I’ll say it one more time—we’re done. So whatever I do is none of your business.”
Ethan had lived twenty-eight years and never been the one left behind. This time, he actually had.
His first reaction was panic. I’d already made it a good distance before he snapped out of it.
He grabbed the nearest coworker and fired questions at several people, getting nothing useful. He pulled out his phone and dialed his assistant.
“Find out where Claire is going. Who has she been in contact with? Did she get any job offers? I want everything.”
His assistant worked fast. By evening, the information was on his desk.
Central Saint Martins, London.
The application had been submitted six months ago. Ethan held that thin sheet of paper, his knuckles white.
He’d believed I revolved entirely around him. That I’d stayed in New York for him, gave up better opportunities for him, accepted mediocrity for him. He couldn’t accept that I’d had “other thoughts” as far back as six months ago.
The panic in his chest was quickly overtaken by anger.
His younger brother Liam pushed open the door and sighed.
“Brother, I’m going to say something you won’t want to hear. When we first started that group chat, I said don’t take it too far. Seven years—she gave you everything she had, and you treated her like a performance review. Of course she left.”
Ethan looked up at him, but his voice lacked conviction.
“Since when do you tell me how to live my life?”
Liam snorted. “I’m just saying—if you really don’t want her to go, apologize properly. Don’t hide behind your heir act. And stop with those cheap tricks. They don’t work.”
Ethan said nothing. He’d barely ever lowered his head in his life—certainly not to a woman who’d once hung on his every word.
That night, he found the motel where I was staying.
When I walked in, he was sitting in a chair, holding my passport.
“Give that back.”
His voice trembled a little as he forced the words out. “Claire, you were planning to leave me six months ago? I won’t let you go. Let’s talk properly.”
I looked at him. “Ethan, you need to get over yourself. We’ve broken up. Where I go, what I study, how I live—none of it has anything to do with you.”
He stepped closer, voice thick with barely contained fury.
“Seven years together, and it means nothing?”
I laughed. “Seven years together, and you kept a group chat judging me for seven years. Seven years together, and you blocked my promotions for seven years. Seven years together, and you logged every cup of coffee, then bet your friends on whether I was a gold digger.”
Calm and measured, every word hit its mark.
His mouth opened, but all he managed was a dry, hollow, “I won’t let you go.”
I was done going back and forth. “Give me my passport. And get out, or I’m calling the cops.”
He stared at me, his expression a storm of anger, resentment, and something else—a panic he’d never admit to. Finally, he slammed the door behind him and left, radiating fury.
Once outside, he pulled out his phone, ready to make a call to block my visa. He dialed, then hung up abruptly.
He couldn’t do it. He knew how hard it was to get into Central Saint Martins, knew how many sleepless nights I’d poured into that application. He could be angry at me, resent me—but he couldn’t actually destroy my future.
Ethan leaned against his car and lit a cigarette. In the haze of smoke, for the first time in his life, he felt utterly helpless.