Chapter 3 - The Echo of Chicago
In his private master bathroom, Ethan stood before the vanity, running warm water over a white hand towel.
As he wiped the purple flowers from his jaw and washed the orange freckles off his nose, he stared at his eyes in the mirror. He looked exhausted. Not physically—he slept six hours a night and ran five miles every morning—but spiritually drained.
When was the last time someone had looked at him without wanting something?
His board of directors wanted higher profit margins. His competitors wanted his market share. The women he dated wanted his social status and access to his private jet. His mother, who had remarried a wealthy oil executive in Texas three years after his father’s death, called him only when she needed him to invest in her new husband’s failing business ventures.
Nobody had looked at Ethan Cole and seen a man who looked "gray."
By one o'clock in the afternoon, the rain had cleared, leaving the estate grounds glistening under a pale autumn sun. Ethan sat in his home office reviewing a takeover bid for a historic hotel property in downtown Atlanta. His legal team had sent him a three-hundred-page dossier detailing the seller's financial vulnerabilities.
Usually, Ethan devoured these documents like a wolf. Today, his eyes kept drifting toward the window overlooking the rear courtyard.
Down on the stone patio, little Maya was sitting at a low wooden table Carol Brant had brought out from the staff quarters. The little girl was swinging her legs, contentedly coloring in a sketchpad while Maria swept the falling leaves nearby.
A knock sounded at his office door.
"Come in," Ethan called out.
Carol Brant stepped inside, holding a leather folder. Her expression was tight, her sharp eyes gleaming with bureaucratic efficiency.
"Mr. Cole," Carol began, setting the folder on his desk. "I heard about the incident in the sitting room this morning. I am deeply sorry. I have already contacted the domestic placement agency to have Maria Delgado replaced by tomorrow morning. Her behavior was completely unprofession—"
"Who told you to replace her?" Ethan interrupted, his voice dropping into a dangerous register.
Carol blinked, caught off guard. "Well... I assumed... she allowed her child to vandalize your person and property, sir. That is a clear violation of her employment contract."
Ethan leaned back in his leather chair, steepling his long fingers. "Did the paint damage the leather couch?"
"No, sir. It washed off completely, but—"
"Did Maria steal anything?"
"No, Mr. Cole, but the lack of discipline—"
"Cancel the request with the agency," Ethan said flatly, returning his gaze to his computer monitor. "Maria stays."
Carol stood frozen for a moment, her lips pressed into a thin line. "Mr. Cole, if I may speak freely... allowing domestic staff to bring children into a private residence of this scale creates legal liabilities. It blurs boundaries."
Ethan looked up, his dark eyes locking onto Carol’s with terrifying intensity. "This is my house, Carol. The boundaries are whatever I say they are. Maria Delgado remains employed here. Her daughter is permitted in the sitting room whenever necessary. Am I making myself clear?"
Carol swallowed hard, bowing her head slightly. "Perfectly clear, sir. My apologies."
As Carol exited the room, closing the heavy oak door behind her, Ethan looked back out the window. Down in the garden, Maya had stopped coloring. She looked up at his second-story window, saw his silhouette standing behind the glass, and raised a tiny, paint-stained hand.
May you like
She waved.
Ethan Cole, the ruthless CEO who had never waved at anyone in his adult life, slowly raised his hand and pressed his palm against the cold glass.
