If someone had asked the employees of Harrington & Co. to describe their CEO that morning, "composed" would not have made the list.
Ethan Harrington was pacing.
And Ethan Harrington did not pace.
He didn't fidget, didn't ramble, and certainly didn't look like a man seconds away from losing his temper. But that's exactly what he was doing, wearing a trench in his office carpet while muttering something about "irreplaceable efficiency" and "two weeks of chaos."
Across the glass wall, Olivia typed quietly at her desk. Calm, poised, infuriatingly serene. Every time she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, Ethan found himself glancing up again, annoyed that he was noticing.
He was the CEO, for God's sake.
He was not supposed to notice things like that.
Logan poked his head through the office door, coffee in hand.
"Just checking you haven't fired anyone yet."
Ethan stopped pacing. "Why would I fire anyone?"
"Because the last time someone crossed you before coffee, you canceled their project budget for a quarter."
"That was justified."
Logan grinned. "Sure it was. So, how's Miss Carter?"
Ethan stiffened. "She's… leaving."
"Still? Damn. I figured your charm would've fixed it by now."
Ethan glared. "This isn't funny, Logan."
"Oh, it's hilarious," Logan said, walking in and taking a seat uninvited. "You look like someone told you there's no such thing as overtime pay."
Ethan sank into his chair with a sigh. " it's just.. she's been with me since the first round of investors. She knows every vendor, every client, she can sense a bad deal before it hits the table."
Logan leaned back. "You mean she knows how to handle you."
"That too," Ethan muttered.
"You could, I don't know, ask her why she's leaving?"
"I did."
"And?"
"She said she 'needs a change.'" He made air quotes with visible disdain.
Logan nodded thoughtfully. "something's definitely wrong, and your lack of emotional intelligence is not making you see that ."
Ethan's glare could've frozen lava. "Out."
Logan only laughed as he left. "Denial looks good on you, boss."
By ten o'clock, Ethan had rewritten the same email four times and deleted each version.
The quarterly budget report, untouched.
His coffee, cold.
His patience, nonexistent.
He buzzed the intercom.
"Miss Carter."
"Yes, sir?"
He hesitated. What did he even want? "Bring me the client portfolio for Prescott Holdings."
"It's already on your desk, sir."
He looked down. It was. Perfectly stacked and labeled.
He ground his teeth. "Right. Thank you."
"You're welcome."
He stared at the intercom for a long second, then muttered, "Unbelievable."
By lunch, the bullpen was on high alert.
When Ethan's office door opened, people suddenly discovered urgent emails to send.
Rachel leaned toward Denise again.
"He's in one of those moods."
"How bad?" Denise whispered.
Rachel made a face. "On a scale of one to coffee machine explosion? Probably eight."
Olivia ignored the whispers. She'd dealt with worse.
Still, it was impossible to miss the way Ethan's usual focus had vanished.
He'd forgotten his 10:30 call. He'd triple-booked his afternoon.
It was chaos، and it grated against everything she'd built for him.
She took a quiet breath, stood, and knocked on his door.
"Come in."
She stepped inside, file in hand. "You missed your meeting with the Prescott team."
"I rescheduled," he said, flipping a page in a document.
"No, you didn't."
He looked up sharply. "Excuse me?"
She met his gaze, unflinching. "You've been distracted all morning."
He frowned. "I'm fine."
"You're not fine," she said softly. "You've read the same page four times."
The way she said it, calm, almost caring it made his stomach twist.
Ethan looked away first. "I'm.. adjusting."
"To what?"
Her silence answered for her.
For a moment, neither of them moved. The city glowed behind the glass, sunlight reflecting off the visible skyscrapers outside.
Then Ethan spoke, quieter now. "You've been here three years."
"Yes."
"I remember when you started," he said, surprising himself. "I told HR we didn't need another assistant. You corrected my calendar within five minutes of walking in."
A flicker of amusement touched her face. "You'd double-booked yourself with two investors and a dental appointment."
"It was a busy week."
"You made me cancel your dentist."
"I have excellent teeth," he said defensively.
She smiled then, a small, genuine thing that made his chest tighten in a way he didn't like.
He leaned back, exhaling. "Why now, Olivia?"
She hesitated, then said carefully, "Sometimes it's better to leave before you forget why you started."
Ethan didn't understand that at all.
But something in her voice, soft and achin made him want to.
That night, long after everyone else left, he was still in his office.
The city lights stretched endlessly outside.
He stared at her desk , it used to be full of various documents and her personal stuffs but now it was scanty and yet organized.
Three years of quiet mornings and late nights.
Three years of her calm voice grounding his chaos.
Three years, and now she was just… leaving.
He ran a hand through his hair.
No one had ever walked away from him before.
Not investors. Not employees. Not anyone.
He didn't know what to do with that.
As Ethan turned off his computer, his phone buzzed.
An anonymous news alert flashed across the screen:
> Carter Industries Rumored to Target Major U.S. Acquisition.
He frowned.
"Carter Industries," he murmured.
Why did that name suddenly sound familiar?