CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT – A BROKEN HOUSE

"There you are!" he exclaimed, his voice tight with a suppressed anger. But beneath the anger, a flicker of something else – hurt. "Ethan," she started, rushing towards him, "you wouldn't believe the storm…" He held up a hand, silencing her. "Save it, Madison." His words were a punch to the gut. The playful teasing, the easy camaraderie – all gone. In their place stood a stranger, his eyes filled with a cold suspicion. "What's going on?" she asked, her voice wavering. Ethan didn't answer. Instead, he walked over to the living room, gesturing towards the television. On the screen, a video played, a split-screen showing the studio's lounge area and a grainy shot of a street corner across from the building. The image in the lounge area zoomed in on her and Andre. Their conversation, the lingering touches, the way their hands grazed – it all looked damning, especially without the context of their heated discussion about boundaries just moments before. She watched in horror, blood dr