The following day.
Ethan's POV
By the time I got back to my office, I felt like my skull had been split open from the endless talking. Meetings drained me more than anything else. Numbers and graphs were easy— straightforward. People were not. People danced around, lied through their teeth, smiled while digging knives into your back.
I closed the door behind me and exhaled, loosening my tie. The city stretched far beyond the glass walls, tall buildings scraping the sky, the traffic below a constant hum. I dropped into my chair, leaning back until the leather groaned, and closed my eyes for just a moment.
The knock came too soon.
"Come in."
The door swung open and in walked Daniel, one of the few people I actually trusted. He'd been my friend long before the company had turned me into "Ethan Cole, CEO." With him, I did not need the mask. He was dressed sharp as always, though his tie was already loosened and his smile carried the easy confidence of someone who never lost sleep over board meetings.
"You look like death warmed over." Daniel said, dropping into the chair across from me. "Another bloodbath in there?"
"Same old." I muttered. "Half the room fighting each other, the other half trying to flatter me. You didn't miss much."
He chuckled, leaning back casually. "And yet, you are still standing. That is why they keep you in that chair."
I smirked faintly but did not respond. Instead, I grabbed the glass of water on my desk and took a slow sip, trying to wash down the bitterness of the day.
For a while we spoke about business— contracts, investments, numbers. But then Daniel's tone shifted, lighter, almost curious.
"So," he said, drumming his fingers on the armrest, "have you heard about that whole Alcott fiasco? The missing bride?"
I glanced at him, my brow twitching before I leaned back again. "Hard not to. It's everywhere. You'd have to live under a rock not to hear."
"Crazy stuff." Daniel went on, shaking his head. "Imagine disappearing on your wedding day, with half the country watching. They say she's unstable, some even claim she ran away to cover up some secret." He whistled softly. "Tracy Alcott, huh? What a mess."
Her name hung in the air. Tracy. I had never met her, but something about the story lingered in my head more than I cared to admit. Maybe it was because she was everywhere— in newspapers, on TV, whispered about in the office halls. Maybe it was because the scandal smelled less like madness and more like something darker beneath.
"I don't know." I said finally. "I do not buy all of it."
Daniel arched a brow. "Oh? You pity her?"
I shook my head. "Not pity. Just… stories like this, they are never that simple. Everyone's pointing fingers, but no one knows the truth."
He studied me for a moment, then smirked. "Still thinking about her though, aren't you?"
I didn't answer. I did not want to admit he was right.
Before the silence grew too thick, another knock came. The door creaked open and in walked Claire, my secretary. She carried a folder in her hands, but it was not the documents that caught attention— it was the way she carried herself. The dress was corporate enough at first glance, but too short to be professional, hugging her figure just enough to suggest intention. Her heels clicked softly on the polished floor as she stepped toward my desk.
"Mr. Cole. " she said smoothly, her voice dipped in something almost syrupy. She placed the folder down, leaning a little closer than necessary, her perfume flooding the air. "Here's the report you asked for." Her hand lingered on the folder, her eyes meeting mine with a spark that left little room for misinterpretation.
I glanced at her once, cool and steady, then back at the papers. "Thank you, Claire. That will be all."
Her lips curved in a small smile. "Of course." she said, her tone teasing. She turned slowly, making sure her departure was just as deliberate as her arrival.
The door clicked shut behind her, leaving silence in her wake.
Daniel let out a low laugh. "She wasn't exactly subtle, was she? The girl practically threw herself at you. And you— you did not even blink."
I leaned back in my chair again, expression flat. "Because I am not interested."
"Not interested?" Daniel leaned forward, incredulous. "Come on, Ethan. She is gorgeous, and she is practically begging for it. Most men would jump at the chance."
I gave him a hard look, my tone colder than I intended. "Then most men can have her. I am done with women like that."
Daniel blinked, his smile faltering slightly. "Done? What does that even mean?"
"It means," I said, my voice even, "I do not have the time or patience for their games. I have seen enough to last a lifetime. They want something— status, money, attention. I don't want to be used, and I do not want distractions. Not anymore."
He whistled softly, leaning back with his hands raised in mock surrender. "Well, I'll be damned. The great Ethan Cole, immune to temptation."
I did not smile. My eyes wandered back to the skyline beyond the glass, the city stretching endlessly into the distance. My words had been cold, but deep down, there was more truth to them than I cared to admit.
I wasn't immune. Just tired. Too tired to fall into traps that led nowhere.
And yet, even as I tried to shove it out of my mind, I found myself circling back to Tracy Alcott. The missing bride. The girl whose name had become a headline.
Why did her story stay with me when I had sworn off caring?
I didn't know. But I could not shake it.