Page 53 of Faking it with my Bad Boy Crush

His phone rang. We both looked at the screen: Marcus Campbell.

"Don't answer it," I said.

"I have to." He answered, his voice carefully controlled. "Marcus."

I couldn't hear the other side of the conversation, but I watched Ethan's face shift from resigned to shocked to furious.

"You can't do that," he said. "That's not—" He paused, listening. "I don't care what your justification is. That's targeted harassment, and you know it."

Another pause.

"Fine. Do what you have to do. But know this: I'm not backing down. I'm not apologizing. And I'm going to make sure everyone knows exactly what your firm did." He hung up, his hands shaking with barely controlled anger.

"What happened?" I asked.

"Marcus filed the ethics complaint an hour ago. But that's not enough for him." Ethan's jaw clenched. "He's also filing a civil suit against me personally for theft of trade secrets and breach of fiduciary duty. He's seeking damages of five hundred thousand dollars—everything I have, plus everything I might earn for the next decade. He wants to make sure I'm not just disbarred. He wants to make sure I'm financially destroyed."

My blood went cold. "Can he do that?"

"He can try. Whether he'll win is another question, but the legal fees alone will bankrupt me." Ethan stood, pacing along the waterfront. "This is why you don't go to war with your former employer. They have resources, connections, and motivation to destroy you completely."

“Just because you exposed their fraud?"

"Because I made them look bad. Because I chose you over them." He stopped pacing, looking at me with raw honesty. "And I'd do it again. Even knowing what it would cost. Even knowing I'm about to lose everything. I'd still choose you."

The words hit me like a physical force. NotI'd still expose the fraudorI'd still do the right thing—butI'd still choose you.

"Ethan—"

"I should go." He grabbed his phone, his briefcase. "I need to call some lawyers, figure out how to defend myself against this civil suit. And you should get back to the celebration. This is your victory, Maya. You won. Your bakery is safe."

"But you're not."

"No." A sad smile. "I'm not. But that's okay. I knew the price when I made the choice."

He started to walk away, and I felt panic rising in my chest. This was wrong. This wasn't how victories were supposed to feel—hollow and incomplete, like I'd won the battle but lost something more important.

"Ethan, wait—"

He turned back, and I saw everything I needed to know in his eyes. He loved me. He'd sacrificed everything for me. And he was walking away because he thought that's what I needed.

"Thank you," I said, the words inadequate for everything I was feeling. "For fighting for me. For seeing me. For choosing me."

"Always," he said simply. Then he walked away, leaving me standing on the Friday Harbor waterfront with a protected bakery and a breaking heart.

I found Tessa waiting outside the coffee shop, leaning against her car with a knowing expression.

"He told you," she said. Not a question.

"About the disbarment? Yes. About the civil suit? Just now." I leaned against the car beside her. "He's going to lose everything. His license, his career, his savings. All because he fought for my bakery."

"All because he fell in love with you," Tessa corrected gently. "The bakery was just the excuse."

"That doesn't make it better. That makes it worse." I pressed my hands against my eyes. "How do I accept that? How do I live with knowing someone destroyed their entire life for me?"

"By being worth it. By building something with your life that honors his sacrifice." Tessa bumped my shoulder. "And by admitting you love him back. Because watching you two dance around your feelings while his career implodes is torture."

"I told him. On the waterfront. I told him I fell for him."