Harem Investment System: Getting Money And Women-Chapter 204: Oliver’s Call

"He does." Riley smiled a little, tapping her nail against the glass of the frame. "Even if he spends most of his time being an unbearable little gremlin."

Ethan chuckled at that. "And your parents?"

The smile on Riley's lips faltered just a bit. Not because she didn't love them — she did. But because, she realized how far away they felt. She had tried to take her mind off it, maybe she would go see them once in a while… Yeah she would.

"They don't live here," she admitted softly. "They moved out of the city a few years ago. My dad got a job in a smaller town, and my mom wanted a quieter life. Oliver went with them, but I stayed here."

Ethan tilted his head. "Why?"

Riley swallowed. "Because… I felt like I had to."

The words hung in the air for a moment before she continued.

"I grew up in the kind of household where expectations were clear. Work hard, do well in school, get a stable job, and build a life that makes sense."

She let out a dry chuckle. "I think my parents still don't quite understand why I chose to work in construction instead of sitting in an office. But I like it here. I like this city. I like working with my hands, seeing something take shape from the ground up. Probably it was because I liked building sandcastles when I was a kid."

'Sandcastles? Does that mean Jules will want to become a constructor?'

Ethan watched her carefully, his gaze steady. "And do they know that?"

Riley hesitated, looking down at the frame again. "I think so. We talk, but… not as much as we used to. They don't understand why I'm still here when I could have moved with them, gotten a different job, done something more… predictable."

Ethan didn't say anything for a moment, just studied her like he was trying to piece her together. Then, he reached out and gently brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

"You don't owe anyone an explanation for the life you want to live," he said, his voice softer now. "It's yours."

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Riley's breath caught in her throat. It was such a simple statement, but coming from him, it felt different. It felt like the permission she hadn't even realized she needed.

She smiled, a small, grateful thing, before glancing at him playfully. "You're surprisingly wise for someone who spends half his time pretending to be too cool for serious conversations."

Ethan smirked. "I contain multitudes."

Riley rolled her eyes, but her heart felt a little lighter. She leaned back against the couch, resting the frame on the table once more.

"Thanks for asking," she said quietly. "Most people don't."

Ethan just looked at her for a moment before finally saying, "Well, most people are idiots."

She laughed, shaking her head. "And you're not?"

"I'm a functional idiot," he corrected. "There's a difference."

Riley grinned, feeling warmth spread through her chest.

Then, suddenly, her phone rang.

The sound jolted her, pulling her back to reality. She blinked and reached for it, glancing at the caller ID. Oliver.

Her eyebrows furrowed slightly. It wasn't unusual for her little brother to call, but this late? That was strange.

"Hold on," she muttered to Ethan, who simply nodded, watching as she answered the call.

"Oliver?" she said, pressing the phone to her ear. "What's up?"

But the voice that responded wasn't the usual laid-back, slightly sarcastic tone she was used to. It was tight, strained — almost shaky.

"Riley."

Her stomach immediately dropped. "What's wrong?"

There was a pause, and she could hear him exhale shakily.

"It's Mom." His voice cracked slightly, and Riley sat up straight, every muscle in her body tensing. "She's sick. Dad had to take her to the hospital."

The room around her blurred. Her grip on the phone tightened.

"What?" Her own voice felt foreign — too quiet, too unsteady.

"She collapsed this afternoon," Oliver said quickly. "I — I don't know all the details, but Dad said it's serious. He wants you to come home."

The words hit her like a punch to the gut.

Her mother. Hospitalized. Serious.

Her mind scrambled to process it, but nothing made sense.

She had just been thinking about her parents — how far away they felt, how they never quite understood why she stayed in the city. And now… this?

She sucked in a shaky breath. "How bad is it?"

Oliver hesitated, and that hesitation was worse than anything he could have said.

"I don't know," he admitted. "Dad wouldn't tell me much. Just that they're running tests and that we should be there."

Riley squeezed her eyes shut, pressing a hand to her temple. "What hospital?"

Oliver told her, his voice wavering slightly, and she swallowed hard.

"I'll be there," she said, the words coming out as a quiet promise. "First thing tomorrow."

There was a pause on the other end before Oliver let out a breath. "Okay. I'll let Dad know."

She nodded, even though he couldn't see her. "Stay with him, okay? Don't let him sit there alone."

"I won't," Oliver mumbled. "See you tomorrow."

And then the line went dead.

Riley didn't move for a moment, the phone still pressed to her ear, as if hoping that maybe, just maybe, if she stayed still enough, she'd wake up from whatever horrible dream this was.

But she didn't wake up.

Instead, a warm hand touched hers, grounding her.

"Riley?" Ethan's voice was gentle, cautious. He was watching her, his brows drawn together in concern.

She let out a shaky breath and lowered her phone, setting it down on the table beside her.

"It's my mom," she said, her voice hoarse. "She's in the hospital."

Ethan didn't say anything immediately. He just looked at her, his expression unreadable, as if assessing what she needed at that moment.

"Do you know what's wrong?" he finally asked.

Riley shook her head. "Oliver didn't say. Just that Dad wants me to come home."

Ethan nodded, as if processing the information.

Then, without hesitation, he reached out and took her hand. His palm was warm, steady — a contrast to the icy panic creeping up her spine.

"You're leaving tomorrow, then?"

"Yeah." Her voice wavered. "First thing."

Ethan squeezed her hand gently. "Do you want me to take you?"