Ethan
Ethan leaned heavily against the arm of the couch in Elena's living room, his breath shallow despite his best efforts to keep steady. His body wasn't cooperating with him—not fully, anyway. He was recovering, sure, but not quickly enough for his liking. His muscles ached, his movements sluggish, and yet he pushed through the discomfort because he couldn't let himself sit idle. Not while unanswered questions burned holes in his mind.
He looked around Elena's immaculate living room. It was pristine, elegant—just like her. A room that gave away nothing, a carefully curated facade. It frustrated him more than he wanted to admit. Elena was an enigma. Always had been. And now, after the attack, after everything, he couldn't shake the feeling that she was hiding something. No matter how much she reassured him, no matter how calmly she insisted she had everything under control, he couldn't believe her.
He watched as she entered the room, her posture as perfect as ever, her expression composed in that maddening way she seemed to have mastered. She wasn't rattled. She wasn't showing vulnerability. But Ethan wasn't about to let that stop him from doing what he needed to do.
"You need Dominion security," he said, his tone sharp but controlled. He kept his arms crossed, refusing to sit down, despite the aching protests of his body. "They're equipped to handle threats like this. You can't keep relying on your personal guards."
Elena raised an eyebrow, her gaze steady. "I've already told you, Ethan. I don't need Dominion guards watching over me every second of the day."
Ethan's jaw tightened. "You do."
"No, I don't," she said coolly, crossing her arms. "My team is enough."
Her calmness was infuriating. Ethan took a breath, forcing himself to keep control. He had always been quick to anger, quick to act, but this time he needed to make her see reason.
"Your team couldn't stop that man from coming at you with a poisoned knife," he said, his voice lower but no less intense. "Do you understand how close you were to dying?"
Elena didn't flinch, but her eyes narrowed slightly. "Yes, Ethan. I understand."
"Then act like it," he snapped, stepping toward her despite the protests of his legs. "Take the guards. Take the security. It's not weakness—it's common sense."
"It's not a life I want to live," she said firmly. "Dominion guards don't just protect—they smother. They're invasive. I won't do it."
Ethan clenched his fists, his thoughts racing. He couldn't understand her refusal. Why wouldn't she let herself be protected? Why wouldn't she make the logical choice? And why did it feel like there was something behind her words that she wasn't telling him?
"Fine," he said, his voice colder now. "If you won't let them protect you, then you're moving in with me."
Elena blinked, her calm demeanor flickering for a moment. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me," Ethan said, standing straighter despite the weakness in his knees. "It's the best solution. If Dominion guards aren't an option, then I'll make sure you're safe myself."
Her lips curved into a faint, humorless smile. "Ethan, you're recovering. You need rest. You can't protect me when you're barely standing."
"Then I'll move in here," he countered, his voice sharper now. "If you won't come to me, I'll come to you."
Elena shook her head, taking a step back. "No. Absolutely not."
Ethan frowned, suspicion creeping into his mind. She was refusing everything—every suggestion, every compromise. Why? What was driving her resistance? It didn't make sense.
"What's going on, Elena?" he asked quietly, his tone darkening. "Are you hiding something from me? From all of us?"
Her gaze hardened, her perfect composure slipping just slightly. "Don't start this, Ethan."
"I'm not starting anything," he said, his voice rising again. "I just need the truth. Why won't you accept help? Why won't you let anyone protect you?"
Elena held his gaze, her expression unreadable. For a moment, the room felt heavy, the tension pressing down on both of them. Ethan could see her calculating, weighing her next move. And then, finally, she exhaled slowly.
"I'll move in with you," she said, her voice steady, but the words felt forced.
Ethan blinked, surprised by her sudden shift. He hadn't expected her to concede so easily—but there was something about the way she said it, something restrained, that didn't sit right with him.
"Good," he said simply, though relief mingled with suspicion in his mind. "We'll start planning now."
Elena nodded faintly, but as she turned away, Ethan couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to her decision—more to her refusal, to her resistance. She was hiding something. He could feel it. And he was determined to find out what.
Does this rewrite give Ethan more depth, his suspicions and turmoil, while maintaining the tension of the dialogue? Let me know if there's anything you'd like fine-tuned!
Luelle
Luelle knelt beside her open suitcase, her hands shaking slightly as she folded another set of clothes and placed it carefully inside. Her mind was a whirlwind of anxiety, questions tumbling over one another as she tried to stay focused. Each movement felt heavier than it should, weighed down by the knowledge of what was coming. Moving in with Ethan. Living under the same roof. How am I going to keep everything hidden?
Her gaze flicked to the desk across the room, where a small case of her makeup and prosthetics sat. Every layer of her disguise—her carefully shaped eyebrows, her slightly altered bone structure, the subtle ways she refined her face into "Elena King"—was laid bare in that case. She crossed the room and picked it up, placing it next to the suitcase before opening a hidden compartment at the base of her bag. With practiced precision, she packed the makeup inside, arranging it neatly so it wouldn't shift or break.
Her fingers hovered over the edges of the case as her thoughts wandered. Ethan had always been perceptive. She'd relied on distance to keep him from looking too closely, but now that safety net was gone. How was she supposed to maintain the illusion of Elena when he'd be watching her every move, seeing her every day, all day?
Her chest tightened as she thought of the wigs. Her identity as Elena wasn't just in the makeup—it was in the sleek, styled hair that had become her signature. She crossed to the closet, pulling out two more wigs, both prepped and styled perfectly for Elena's persona. She ran her fingers over the strands, each one a reminder of how fragile this facade truly was. If he found even one out of place… No. She couldn't let that happen. She carried the wigs back to the suitcase, folding them carefully into another concealed section of the bag.
Luelle paused, closing her eyes for a moment to steady herself. This was going to be stressful. No, it was going to be hell. Living with Ethan posed more problems than she could count. There wasn't just the issue of keeping her identity and disguises a secret—there was the emotional weight of it all. Ethan remembered Luelle now. His first love. The girl who had "died" thirteen years ago. And yet, every time he looked at her as Elena, she could feel the questions brewing in his mind, the suspicion in his eyes.
Her fingers tightened against the edges of the suitcase. She wasn't just hiding her identity to protect herself—she was protecting him, too. The truth would do more harm than good. If he knew everything, if he pieced together the full scope of her secrets, it would shatter the already fragile bond between them. It would put him in more danger than he already was.
She shook her head, forcing herself to focus. There was no room for doubt now. She had made the decision to move in with him, to keep him close, to ensure his safety at the expense of her own comfort. It wasn't what she wanted—but it was necessary.
With a deep breath, Luelle closed the hidden compartment of the suitcase and zipped it shut. Her gaze lingered on the bag for a moment longer before she stood, straightening her shoulders. Whatever challenges lay ahead, she would face them. She always had.
But as she glanced at the reflection of herself in the mirror—Elena's polished, controlled expression staring back at her—she couldn't help but wonder how long she could keep the facade intact.
She drags her bags into the living room. Ready to leave with Ethan.