Chapter 40

"Pfft—"

Ethan Sullivan had just taken a sip of red wine to steel himself for an intimate moment with Susan Thompson when the liquid caught violently in his throat.

Andrew Lucas's icy voice exploded like thunder: "I'll take the dare."

"Andrew, have you lost your mind?!" Ethan's hand trembled, nearly dropping the wine glass.

Andrew advanced with an impassive face. "A bet's a bet."

Ethan's complexion turned ashen. By the rules of the game, he couldn't refuse the challenger's request.

Gritting his teeth, he leaned toward Andrew, brushing his lips fleetingly against the other man's cheek before turning away to gag.

In that moment, sudden clarity struck Ethan.

Andrew's strange warnings on set, his constant targeting of Susan tonight, this absurd dare—it all made sense now.

Andrew was hopelessly in love with him!

Ethan raked his hands through his hair in anguish. Torn between his childhood friend and the woman he loved, the choice was unbearable.

Susan stood frozen in shock. She knew Andrew's possessive nature too well—even things he discarded, no one else could touch.

A metallic taste flooded her mouth. "Excuse me," she murmured, rising abruptly. "I need the restroom."

As the door clicked shut, Ethan drew a deep breath. "Andrew, we need to talk."

Andrew's glare could freeze hell.

"I understand your feelings now." Ethan spoke with pained sincerity. "But we're brothers!"

Andrew's eyebrow twitched violently.

"I admit my irresistible charm is my own fault." Ethan sighed with narcissistic regret. "But my heart belongs only to Susan. You... should let go."

"Get out!" Andrew slammed the door behind him.

Ethan turned mournfully to the remaining two men. "Was I too harsh?"

Calvin Grant and Bruce Bowman averted their eyes in perfect unison.

Spotting Nicole Capra's contorted expression, Ethan added guiltily, "Sis, this is all because I'm too—"

"Enough!" Nicole shattered her glass and stormed out.

In the restroom, Susan hunched over the sink, coughing violently. Crimson stains bloomed across the white porcelain like grotesque flowers.

Her hands shook as she swallowed triple the prescribed dose. Her legs felt leaden, each step an ordeal.

The doctor's warning echoed—overdosing would accelerate organ failure. But the pain left no room for caution.

As she turned, she collided with an immovable force. An iron grip closed around her throat.

"Tell me!" Andrew's voice was deadly calm. "Who's the father of that bastard?"