From His Puppy to His Brother’s Diamond Chapter 04
Claire’s POV
Listening to him spiral on the other end, I almost want to laugh.
“Ethan.” I cut him off, my voice flat.
The line goes quiet. All I hear is his ragged breathing.
“Do you seriously still not get it?” I stand on USC’s tree–lined path, watching the sun dip low. “Why would
be at NYU? Why would I wait around at check–in for you to show up with Lily and make me watch your little performance? So I can carry your bags for you both?”
“What are you talking about?” His voice cracks. “Your r application…”
“I changed my application the same day I threw out that soup.” Each word lands like a slap across twenty–eight hundred miles.
You… you didn’t come to NYU? That’s impossible! I checked your account…”
You checked my account and didn’t notice the password was different?” I don’t give him an inch. “Drop the act, Ethan. We’re done. Don’t call me again.
I hang up. Block the number.
Ocean breeze sweeps through, clearing the last bit of irritation. I turn toward the dining hall.
The next few months fall into rhythm. USC’s workload hits hard, but I keep up. Better than keep up. The professor pulls me into the core design team before the semester’s half over.
And Dominic’s name starts showing up more and more.
He sits in on our presentations sometimes as the lead investor. When he walks into a room, the air gets heavier. He’s sharp, brutal when he needs to be, doesn’t sugarcoat anything. But when he gets to my drafts, he slows down. Lingers. His feedback cuts straight to what matters.
“Your concept’s way ahead of the curve. But this load–bearing structure? You can go bigger. Push it.”
After one meeting, he pulls me aside. His fingers tap the edge of my draft.
Thanks for the feedback, Dominic.”
Come on. Phase one’s done. Let me buy you dinner.” almost say no. But his eyes don’t leave room for argument. I nod.
He takes me to this quiet, expensive place tucked away from everything. We talk architecture, plans, the
future. Turns out he’s not just sharp with business. He knows design, gets the art side of it. The conversation flows easy. Balanced. Like talking to someone who actually gets it.
“Heard Ethan’s been making a mess of things back in New York.”
Halfway through the meal, Dominic sets down his fork.
My hand pauses for half a second. Then I keep eating.
“Not my problem.”
Something like approval flickers in his eyes. “Old man Caldwell tried shoving Ethan into a VP spot at one of
the subsidiaries. Didn’t go well. Kid can’t do anything except chase girls. Tanked a multimillion–dollar deal last week. Board’s already calling for his head.”
He says it casually, like he’s commenting on the weather.
I know exactly what he’s saying. Ethan’s nothing to him. An insect he could crush without thinking twice.
“Why are you telling me this?” I meet his eyes.
He leans forward slightly, gaze steady. “Because I want you to know what you left behind. He’s worthless. And you deserve better.”
His gaze is too intense. I look away before I drown in it. My pulse kicks up anyway.
Next to Dominic, all of Ethan’s games look like kindergarten bullshit.
Time moves fast. Before I know it, freshman year’s over.
I stay in LA over winter break to keep working on the project. Meanwhile, old high school group chats start lighting up with updates about Ethan and Lily.
Lily’s at USC too, but she’s not here for school. Her Instagram’s nothing but designer bags Ethan bought her and fancy restaurant check–ins. Already playing future Mrs. Caldwell.
Ethan’s completely off the rails. Partying nonstop with his trash friends, grades in the gutter.
I scroll through the screenshots and feel nothing. Maybe a little amused. They think they’ve won. Don’t realize they’re celebrating on the edge of a cliff.
second week of sophomore year, USC hosts a national architecture forum. I’m on the core team, so I’m Handling VIP check–in.
I’m walking toward the registration table with the guest list when a grating voice cuts in from behind.
“Well, well. If it isn’t Claire. What happened? You working the registration desk now?”
I turn around. Lily’s standing there in head–to–toe designer, makeup perfect, hanging off the arm of some
middle–aged guy with a gut. She’s looking down at me like she owns the place.
Behind them, Ethan. Face dark, eyes bloodshot.
It’s been over a year. And here we are again.