The morning after the charity gala felt different. When Ethan entered the dining room, Elena was already there. This was new. Usually, she would arrive at precisely seven o'clock, not a second earlier. Today, she had come first, sitting and staring into her steaming cup of tea with a pensive expression.
Ethan took his seat as usual, picking up his morning paper. The silence that usually felt like a fortress separating them now felt more like a fragile suspension bridge—still dangerous, but at least it connected them. He felt Elena's gaze on him, but he kept his focus on the headlines, giving her space.
"Will... will Clarissa cause any trouble?"
The question was so unexpected that Ethan lowered his newspaper. He looked at his wife across the table. This was the first time Elena had initiated a conversation that wasn't directly related to an immediate need. This was a real conversation.
"She won't," Ethan replied, folding his newspaper and setting it beside his plate. He decided to give this rare moment his full attention. "The Vance family has too many internal problems to worry about anything else. My attack on their company's value last night was not a bluff."
Elena seemed to contemplate that. "So, you used business information to win a social battle."
Ethan shrugged slightly. "This world is one big battlefield, Elena. The weapons you use just need to be adapted to the arena."
He expected Elena to criticize him, to call him cruel or calculating. Instead, he saw a flicker of curiosity in her eyes.
"How did you know all of that?" Elena asked. "About their company, about the board of directors?"
"It's my job to know everything about anyone who could potentially be a threat or an asset," Ethan answered simply. "Information is the purest form of power."
He paused, then did something impulsive. "The same way you know which notes to press to make a melody feel sad or happy. You understand the language of music. I understand the language of power."
The comparison seemed to startle Elena. She fell silent for a moment, her eyes gazing into the distance, as if trying to process the analogy. For the first time, Ethan hadn't just spoken to her as a contract husband or the CEO of Riels Corp. He had spoken to her as a man, trying to find common ground between their very different worlds.
"I never thought of it that way," Elena admitted softly.
Silence settled over them again, but this time it felt comfortable. It was no longer an empty silence, but one filled with new thoughts.
As breakfast ended and Ethan prepared to leave, Elena did another unexpected thing.
"Ethan," she called out, just as he was about to leave the room.
He stopped and turned.
"Be careful," she said. "With... Marcus Thorne."
Ethan froze. He had never told Elena about Marcus Thorne. That meant she must have overheard one of his phone calls. That meant she had been listening. She was paying attention to his world.
For the first time in a very long time, a genuine smile—albeit small and fleeting—touched the lips of Ethan Riels.
"I will," he replied.
And as he walked out of the mansion that morning, his steps felt lighter than they had in days. The crack in the wall of ice was starting to widen.