CHAPTER THREE — my card

Ethan pov

“How are you, son?” my father said with that same plastered smile he wore like a mask.

I didn’t return it.

“What are you doing here?” My fists clenched beneath the desk, my voice tight, measured.

He blinked, like my reaction surprised him. “You can’t even greet your own father?”

“Nathaniel, I have a meeting soon,” I said, rising to my feet.

He didn’t move. Just sat there, legs crossed like he had every right to be in my office. Every time he showed up, it felt like an ambush his presence a reminder of everything I he did to mom.

“You need to get a wife, Ethan,” he said again—like clockwork, like a goddamn broken record.

“How many times do I have to say it?” I snapped, slamming my hand on the desk. “I’m not ready. I’m twenty-seven.”

“You’re still twenty-seven,” he said slowly. “But I’m not young anymore. I want a grandchild.”

There it was. The real reason. The legacy. The image. It was never about what I wanted.

“A grandchild... or a trophy for your next gala photo op?” I muttered.

He looked like he wanted to argue—but I cut him off.

“I haven’t met anyone worth marrying,” I said, jaw locked. “Most of the girls around me are—” I stopped myself. Then said it anyway. “They’re slutty. I’m not bringing someone like that home.”

“Ethan. Watch your mouth,” he snapped.

I stared at him. He had the audacity to act like a father now?

“You can’t find a girl if all you think about is work,” Nathaniel added, eyes narrowing.

“I don’t want to be tied down,” I said through clenched teeth. “Not now. Not with just anyone.”

He leaned forward, voice low and threatening. “Then I’m canceling the merger.”

The words hit like ice.

I stood still, trying not to explode.

“You’re bluffing,” I said. “That deal is crucial for the company. We’d lose millions.”

“I warned you.”

“I don’t want to marry someone I don’t love!” I shouted, frustration boiling to the surface. “Let me live my damn life!”

But he was unmoved, reaching for his phone like it was a done deal.

“I have someone in mind. I’ll schedule a date—”

“No!” I cut him off. “Give me two weeks. Just two. If I can’t find someone… then fine. You can set me up.”

He paused. Smiled like he’d already won.

“Deal.”

Fourteen days later, I was losing my mind.

Two. Days. Left.

And nothing.

Every woman I met? Not it. Either fake, shallow, or didn’t even get past a full sentence without annoying me.

“You could just hire someone,” Ben had said on our way out of the building one last night.

A fake girlfriend.

The idea was stupid. Risky. And fake. Just like the women I was supposed to be avoiding.

“No way,” I told him.

But now? I was desperate.

I needed air. Not the recycled, glass-tinted corporate air of my building—but the real kind. The kind that existed in the only place that still felt safe.

“Cancel all my meetings,” I barked at Lillian on my way out.

“But sir, you have a 12PM—”

“Figure it out. That’s what I pay you for.” My voice was sharp, clipped.

She nodded, and I stormed toward the elevator. Down to the basement. Into my Porsche.

Gone.

The park was quiet, the kind of quiet my mother used to love. The light filtered through the trees, and the sound of kids laughing echoed from the other side of the field.

It was the only place that didn’t feel like war.

Sixteen years without her. Sixteen years of silence in the spaces she used to fill.

My hands tightened on the steering wheel. My chest ached in that familiar way.

Then my phone rang.

Lillian.

Of course.

“What is it?” I answered, teeth gritted.

“I’m so sorry, sir,” she stammered. “Mr. Henry is angry. He’s on the other line—”

“Put him through.”

“Ethan.” Mr. Henry’s voice cut through the receiver. “You can’t just cancel on us. This meeting—”

“I had an emergency.”

“Your assistant said that.”

“She was right.”

“You know this deal has to close now.”

“You’re the one with everything to lose,” I said coldly. “Not me.”

And then—chaos.

Someone slammed into me from the side. My phone flew from my hand and hit the ground hard, bouncing toward a tree.

I spun, furious. “Are you blind?!”

A girl got up then stood there, wide-eyed and defiant. Long dark hair, hazel eyes that looked like they held fire.

She crossed her arms. “Excuse me? This is a public walkway!”

“You just ruined a major call,” I growled.

“Maybe don’t take calls in the middle of the sidewalk,” she shot back.

I stepped forward. She stepped back, hands lifting in defense.

“What are you doing?” I asked, eyeing her warily.

“Uh… yoga?” she mumbled.

She turned—to leave—and stepped right into the road.

A car sped by, horn blaring.

She froze.

I didn’t think. I moved.

My arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her back into me.

We were both breathless.

“You should be more careful,” I said, my voice lower now. Her body still in my arms.

She blinked up at me. Close enough for me to see the small gold flecks in her eyes. Her gaze drifted to the tattoo on my wrist. She stared.

I smirked.

“You okay?” I asked, loosening my hold.

She stepped back and straightened her dress. “Fine. Thanks.”

“Do you know who I am?”

“Nope,” she said flatly.

That was new.

She looked over my shoulder. At someone.

“I should go. My friend’s waiting.”

Her voice had changed. No longer sharp. Just… rushed.

“Wait.” I tilted my head.

An idea sparked.

“You’re going to pay for my phone,” I said. “And I’m pressing charges.”

Her mouth dropped. “For what?”

“For harassing me.”

“It was an accident.”

“You still touched me.”

She snorted. “You’re unbelievable.”

I reached into my pocket and pulled out my business card. Handed it to her.

“Come by my office tomorrow. I have an offer you can’t refuse.”

“And if I don’t?”

“I’ll find you. I’ll have the police at your door by afternoon,” I said, voice ice cold. “Look me up. I always get what I want.”

A child nearby started to cry. I looked over briefly—then turned and walked away.

I didn’t wait for her response.

I didn’t need to.

I already knew.

Pulling out my backup phone, I called Ben.

“I found her.”