Ethan's study was his war command center. The moment the oak door closed behind him, the outside world with its awkward silences and complicated marriage seemed to vanish. All that remained was data, strategy, and an enemy he had to destroy.
That night, the storm named Marcus Thorne was raging.
"He's managed to flip two of our minority shareholders," Leo's tense voice came through the speakerphone. "Not enough for a takeover, but enough to cause a panic at the shareholder meeting next week. The bastard is eating us alive from the inside, Eth."
Ethan stared at the three giant monitors before him displaying stock movements, news articles, and complex charts. He felt the pressure in his temples, a familiar thrumming. He had been in situations like this before. But this time, it felt different. Thorne's attacks felt more personal, more vicious.
"He's not just targeting our company, Leo. He's targeting our family's reputation," Ethan said, his voice low and sharp. "Let him. We stick to the plan."
After hanging up, Ethan leaned back in his chair, massaging the bridge of his nose. The exhaustion he had been holding at bay all day was beginning to seep in. He looked at the stack of documents he had to study before morning, and for a moment, he felt as though he were in a besieged fortress.
That's when a soft knock sounded at the door.
"Come in," he said, his tone slightly annoyed by the interruption.
Celli entered carrying a silver tray. On it was a white porcelain cup, sending up fragrant steam. Tea.
Ethan frowned. He never drank tea at night. He would have black coffee or whiskey, depending on how bad the day had been. "I didn't order this, Celli."
The middle-aged maid gave a small smile. "I know, Sir. It's from Madam."
Ethan froze. He stared at Celli, trying to process the information. His heart, which had been pounding with adrenaline and stress, now beat to an entirely different rhythm. "Madam?" he repeated, his voice barely a whisper.
"Yes, Sir. Madam asked me to prepare it for you. Chamomile tea, with a little sugar. She said you might need it," Celli said before placing the cup carefully on a clear corner of Ethan's desk, then left in silence.
Ethan stared at the teacup as if it were an object from another planet. He remembered their conversation that morning. Elena's warning about Marcus Thorne. And now this. A small gesture, a silent acknowledgment that she saw his struggle.
With a hand that felt slightly foreign, he lifted the cup. The soft aroma was calming. He took a sip. It was warm, the sweetness just right. The warmth spread from his chest throughout his body, loosening tense muscles he hadn't even realized were clenched.
It was just a cup of tea. It wouldn't defeat Marcus Thorne. It wouldn't solve the problems in his marriage. But in the middle of this cold, brutal storm, this cup of tea felt like a beacon, a small bonfire in the darkness. A reminder that he wasn't entirely alone in this fortress.
A new energy flowed through him. No longer an energy driven by anger or duty, but by something else. Something worth protecting.
He put the cup down, reached for the phone on his desk, and dialed a different number. Not Leo. Not Evelyn.
"Yes, Mr. Riels?" the voice of his head of security answered.
"I have a new task for you," Ethan said, his voice was once again cold and full of control, but with a new sharpness to it. "I want you to find out everything you can about Marcus Thorne's personal connections. Every political donation, every illicit affair, every single weakness. I want us to go on the offensive. Now."
He paused for a moment, his gaze falling on the still-warm teacup on his desk.
"Destroy him."