than learned the rhythms of Tyler's world far quicker than anyone expected, even Tyler himself. As a personal assistant, he seemed to appear exactly where he was needed, file in hand, solutions ready, problems anticipated before they even had a chance to breathe.
It surprised Tyler.
It surprised Ethan too.
He had walked into the job expecting anxiety, old wounds pricking open the moment he heard Tyler's voice. But the man who now sat at the head of the office wasn't the boy who once laughed through the hallways of their school. This Tyler was older, sharper around the edges but strangely softer in the centre — a man shaped by ambition, not cruelty.
And Ethan… was trying hard not to care.
On Ethan's second payday, he moved out of his cramped, noisy shared apartment into a modest studio flat in North London. Nothing fancy — just a small balcony, a kitchen the size of a wardrobe, and a bathroom that didn't leak. But it was his.
No footsteps outside his bedroom door.
No shouting.
No threats.
No brothers who used his brilliance as a weapon against him.
Just quiet.
Just peace.
Just beginnings.
Ethan stood by the small window holding his first proper key, feeling a warmth in his chest he hadn't known since childhood.
This is my life now, he whispered.
And he meant it.
At work, things changed slowly — so slowly he almost didn't notice it happening.
Lunches that began as rushed, separate affairs turned into shared sandwiches in Tyler's office. Tyler started asking his opinion on contracts, then on designs, then… on everything.
"Ethan, what do you think of this pitch angle?"
"Ethan, would this come across as too aggressive?"
"Ethan, can you read this again? I trust your eye more than mine."
Trust.
The word did something to Ethan each time Tyler said it.
He kept telling himself it was nothing — just a boss appreciating a competent PA. But then there were moments that shook him:
A brush of hands when passing a folder.
A lingering glance that lasted one heartbeat too long.
A late‑night meeting with coffee gone cold and silence stretching between them like a thread pulled tight.
Sometimes Tyler looked at him like he was trying to remember something. Or someone.
Does he recognise me? Ethan wondered.
Then pushed the thought away. He couldn't afford to hope.
The Ashford family entered the picture slowly, like a shadow lengthening across a room.
Tyler's family moved in circles Ethan had only watched from a distance. Dinners with politicians, charity galas filled with polished smiles, hushed conversations about engagement prospects and social alliances.
"Tyler needs to settle down," his aunt had said during a board meeting Ethan attended as note‑taker. "He's nearly 30. He needs someone with pedigree."
Someone with pedigree.
Not someone like Ethan.
Tyler's expression didn't change, but his hands tightened slightly on the table's edge. Ethan noticed. He always noticed.
Later, as they walked back to Tyler's office, Ethan kept his gaze ahead.
"You don't have to listen to that," he murmured quietly.
Tyler gave him a small, crooked smile.
"Funny. You always seem to know what I need to hear."
And Ethan's heart stuttered.
A week later, Tyler called him into the office with an unusual tone in his voice.
"Ethan, I need you to accompany me to a business dinner. Short notice. I'd like you there."
Ethan paused. "If it's important, of course. Who's attending?"
"Just a partner. And an old friend."
He didn't say the friend's name.
He didn't need to.
When they stepped into the restaurant — a private room glowing with warm, golden lights — Ethan's breath caught.
Matthew Ashford.
His adoptive brother.
His tormentor.
His ghost.
Matthew smiled like the years between them had never happened.
"Ethan," he said smoothly, "it's been far too long."
Tyler looked between them, hopeful, expectant — completely unaware of the old fractures he had just reopened.
Ethan's heartbeat thudded painfully, memories clawing their way back: basements, locked doors, whispered insults at school. Matthew holding court with Tyler by his side, laughing at Ethan's expense.
Ethan swallowed.
"I didn't know you would be here."
Matthew's grin sharpened.
"Then tonight will be… interesting."
Tyler's brows slowly drew together as he felt the tension he did not understand.
And Ethan realised — some ghosts don't stay buried.
Not when family is involved.
Not when secrets strain beneath the surface.
Not when fate drags all players back onto the same stage.
Hook:
The dinner hadn't even started — and already Ethan could tell something dangerous was unfolding. And this time… he wasn't sure if Tyler would stand beside him or become part of the storm.