Breaking Through His Walls

If someone had told me I'd end up marrying Ethan O'Martin-the billionaire with a guarded stare and a file full of exes-I would've laughed in their face. But that morning, I wasn't thinking about love or billionaires. I was thinking about a dying boy and a heart that hadn't arrived yet.

I lay there, emotionless on the bed, my mind spinning like a rollercoaster.

A new day.

A new day to worry, while keeping a straight face.

If I had to choose, I'd choose to have everything I could-except right now, all I truly wanted was lying beside me.

My teenage brother.

Sixteen, frail, clinging to hope and desperately in need of a heart transplant.

Who would wish death on another kid just to save their brother's life?

I would.

And that truth haunts me every time I blink.

But it's a burden I dare not speak aloud. Not since the storm that claimed our parents' lives.

"Hey... hey, Lena. I need to use the restroom," his voice cut through the fog in my head.

I snapped back to reality and reached out a hand to help him up.

Since his last diagnosis, the doctor warned us: no stress, no exertion-nothing that might worsen his condition.

"You can go now," he said, fingers brushing the door handle.

"Are you sure that's enough? I can come in and help you," I offered gently.

"Hell no! I'm fine. Besides, I'm sixteen. I can take care of myself."

Stubborn as ever. He managed to steady himself and disappear behind the door.

I stood behind the restroom door, slipping back into my thoughts.

The sting of losing my part-time job yesterday came rushing in again. I hadn't even been given a chance to explain myself.

I should've known better.

Still, there was no time for regrets. I had to get out there early and find another job. One way or another, when the heart became available, I had to be ready-with money in hand.

Coughs...

"Hey, Aud-are you good?" I called out, my heart skipping a beat.

"I'm okay. A fly just flew down my throat," he croaked.

I exhaled, relieved. I couldn't handle another scare right now-especially not today. Not when I was on a mission to find money.

"Are you still at the door?" he fired back, catching on to my worry.

"I was already moving," I said, stepping into the kitchen. "You're sure taking a lot of time in there."

I rummaged through the cabinet. Thankfully, I had stocked up with the last of my savings.

Since Aud-short for Audrey-could only handle his special meals loaded with vegetables, we rarely touched cereals anymore. To cut costs, I'd grown used to his overpriced health food too.

I made breakfast in a rush, my ears still tuned to the sound of him coughing in the bathroom.

Eventually, he emerged, sniffing.

"This again?" he asked, eyeing the meal I'd placed on the table.

"You have no choice," I shrugged. "Wait till you're fully recovered, then you can eat whatever you want."

I darted into the bathroom, bathed quickly, and skipped makeup-I preferred the natural look anyway. Ripped jeans, sneakers, and my lemon crop top-perfect for the heat outside.

"Take care of yourself," I said, slinging my bag over my shoulder as I headed toward the door. "Call me in case of any emergency, okay? I might be back before I leave for my evening class."

As I stepped out, his voice stopped me.

"Call me Aud, please," he muttered, eyes still fixed on his phone while chewing at the same time.

"I will," I smiled softly, then closed the door behind me.

The sun hit hard as I stepped outside, bouncing off the concrete like it had a personal vendetta. My phone was nearly dead-again-and the paper where I scribbled down potential job openings was already curling at the edges in my palm.

Still, I walked.

From the tiny apartment to the heart of the city, the streets got shinier, louder, and more... distant. I kept my head high even though every polished window reminded me of where I didn't belong.

Corporate buildings stretched into the sky like they were mocking me. Most of them didn't even have signs posted. They were "invite only" kinds of places. People walked past in crisp suits, sipping overpriced coffee and talking into Bluetooth earpieces like the world owed them something.

And then there was me-sweaty, anxious, and wearing hope like a badge I was tired of pinning on.

I passed a glass skyscraper that stopped me cold

O'Martin Tech.

The name echoed louder in my chest than on the steel-plated sign.

Everyone knew the company. Ethan O'Martin-the elusive billionaire, the tech prodigy, the man with too many exes and not enough smiles. I'd read about him in passing, seen him on headlines, and dismissed it all with a shrug. That world wasn't mine.

But the building looked too tempting. Too structured. Too stable.

What if I walked in?

I shook the thought off and turned away, but before I could take three full steps, the sleek black car parked by the curb hissed as the passenger door opened.

And out stepped him.

I didn't know it was him, not right away. But the moment slowed.

Tall-ridiculously tall. Clean-cut in a charcoal suit, his movements calculated, his presence... chillingly composed. There was something about him that didn't match the flashiness of the world around him.

He didn't look like the rich men I'd seen parade themselves in magazines. He looked like a man used to silence. A man comfortable in the absence of emotion.

Except... he smiled.

It was practiced. Polite. A smile made for cameras, for business meetings. But even from across the street, I saw it didn't reach his eyes.

Then, his gaze shifted-right at me.

It wasn't long. Maybe a second. Two. But I swear, I stopped breathing.

He didn't linger. He turned toward the building, his assistant trailing behind, and just like that, he disappeared through the glass doors like smoke vanishing in wind.

I blinked, then forced myself to keep walking.

It was just a moment.

A moment I wouldn't forget

---

As I walked away from O'Martin Tech, I didn't look back.

I couldn't afford distractions-not now.

Then I heard my ringtone.

I fumbled through my bag, my cracked phone screen barely readable.

Three missed calls. From an unknown number.

The phone buzzed again. My stomach dropped.

"Hello?" I answered, my voice tight with dread.

"Is this Lena Marks?" The voice was clipped but kind.

"Yes... who is this?"

"This is City General. We need you to come in immediately. Your brother, Audrey Marks, was brought in about ten minutes ago."

Everything slowed.

I didn't remember turning around.

I didn't remember calling a cab.

I just remembered running.

---

At the hospital...

I was pacing, breath shallow.

I should've stayed home.

I blamed myself.

I rushed to the counter.

"Hi, I'm Lena Marks. I just received a call-my brother Audrey was brought here?"

The nurse looked up. "Audrey... who?"

"Marks," I said quickly, nearly breathless.

"Yes, he was brought in a few minutes ago. He's stable for now. A doctor will speak with you shortly."

"Thank God," I muttered, dropping into the nearest chair.

Anxious. Restless. Waiting.

Eventually, sleep pulled me under.

I drifted to one side, only half-aware of the shifting hospital atmosphere.

The scent of vanilla filled the air.

I blinked slowly awake.

People were staring.

Not at me.

At him.

A man sat beside me, tall and calm, casually scrolling through his phone.

Ethan O'Martin.

The Ethan O'Martin. Right here at City General.

He turned slightly toward me.

"You seem to be the only one not fazed by me. That's... new," he said, almost amused.

Before I could respond, a voice called out, "Lena Marks?"

I stood and approached the doctor.

"Your brother's heart has weakened further. He'll need surgery very soon, and we'll have to keep him under close observation while we search for a match."

Tears welled up. I blinked them away, fast.

"Can I see him now?"

"In a few minutes. The nurse will come get you."

I nodded and returned to my seat, torn and distracted.

I didn't even notice the man beside me speaking again at first.

"Hey... are you okay?"

I didn't respond.

"Lena," he repeated.

I turned my head slightly toward him.

"I overheard you talking to the doctor. If it's a money issue... come work for me."

I blinked. Confused. Was this real?

"I think... I'm okay," I replied.

Just then, his assistant-the one I'd seen earlier-walked up and whispered something. Ethan stood.

Before he left, he pulled a business card from his coat and held it out to me.

"Call me if you change your mind. You've got... 48 hours."

And then he was gone.

It feels like a prank, but I wouldn't mind trying my luck-especially after much convincing from my brother.

"The O'Martins offered you a job?" he said, already lighting up with excitement.

"You saw Ethan? Live?" he continued, practically bouncing in place.

"How about him?" I asked, more out of curiosity than anything else.

"Ethan O'Martin," he said, like the name itself should mean something. "He's everything. The coolest tech dude. His dressing, the way he talks... I even heard his perfume costs as much as a new model car."

I scrunch my face. That was ridiculous. Who spends that much on scent?

But even as I rolled my eyes, something in me paused. Did I really want to take up a job offer from someone like that? A man with so much power, he could afford to be mysterious. A man whose presence filled an entire room... who looked at me like I was the only one not falling over him.

Was I walking into something too big for me?

"You know what," I said, swallowing down the lump in my throat, "I'm going to try it."

I didn't sound as sure as I wanted to. But I had to try-for Audrey.

"If it works out... maybe we can hope. At least for the money part."

"I'll come by to check on you. If I'm late, I might be in school," I added quickly, already grabbing my bag.

I leaned in, pecking him softly on the forehead. "Please stay alive for me. I love you so much."

"Love you too, sis. Go before he changes his mind."

---

As I stepped outside the hospital, I checked the card again-Ethan O'Martin written in sharp, minimal print. No title. No fluff. Just a name. It was intimidating for something so small.

I held onto it tighter than I expected.

The cab ride to O'Martin Tech was quiet, but my mind wasn't.

What was I even going to say? "Hi, you randomly offered me a job while I was on the verge of breaking down. Still standing?"

I winced at the imagined awkwardness.

He probably said it out of pity. Rich people do that sometimes, right?

Still... I found myself standing at the massive silver-and-glass doors of O'Martin Tech twenty minutes later, my reflection staring back at me, trying to look like she belonged.

Did I belong here?

A woman brushed past me with a sleek tablet in hand and an even slicker suit. She didn't glance at me. No one did. This wasn't my world-but I needed to get in, even just a foot.

I took a breath and walked in.

"Can I help you?" the receptionist asked, her tone polite but clipped.

I almost turned back. Almost.

"I'm... Lena Marks. I was asked to come in by Mr. O'Martin. He said I should call, but I figured I'd just-uh-show up."

The receptionist blinked, then tapped something on her tablet. "Wait here."

A few seconds later, the man from the hospital-his assistant-appeared, still looking crisp, but now with a slight trace of recognition in his eyes.

"Miss Marks," he said. "Right this way."

I followed, my heart climbing up to my throat.

Inside the elevator, the silence was intense. I could hear the soft hum of the floors passing beneath us.

"Do people... often walk in like this?" I asked, mostly to fill the silence.

"Not really. But you're expected."

I blinked. Expected?

We stopped at the top floor.

And there he was.

---

"You made it."

His voice was calm, almost too calm. "I thought for a second you wouldn't. I was just about to call it off."

I stood still, unsure of what to say. Then his eyes met mine-sharp, unreadable.

"You know what..." he paused, making my heart thump like it had its own secrets. "I was at that hospital for my secretary. He called in with a heart attack. I only went to confirm he wasn't lying."

I blinked. Was that a joke?

"And turns out," he continued, "he actually passed out. So yes, I take work here very seriously."

His tone didn't change, but something about his delivery made it hit harder.

"Follow Christian," he added, already motioning to the man who had accompanied me upstairs. "He'll show you your schedule and everything else you need."

Christian, tall and precise in movement, led me down a hallway so clean and modern I didn't know whether to walk or glide. We stopped at a door. He pushed it open and gestured for me to step in.

It was an office-sleek, polished, too fancy for a secretary. The kind of space you'd expect for someone making six figures, not someone who just cried at the hospital a day ago.

"The Head of Staff will be with you shortly," Christian said. "You'll go over everything with her. And please..." he added, "remember everything I told you."

With that, he disappeared.

I sat, eyes down. Around me, people walked past in elegant suits. Even the janitor looked like they belonged on the cover of a workwear fashion magazine. I tugged slightly at the hem of my lemon crop top and ripped jeans. Maybe I should've borrowed a blazer.

Then, a woman-poised, late thirties, sharp in heels and confidence-walked directly toward me. I stood at once.

"You must be Lena," she said, eyeing me from head to toe.

"Y-yes," I stammered.

"Oh no, honey. Don't do that."

"Do what?" I asked.

"Stutter. You're here on special recommendation from the CEO himself."

"I am?" I blinked.

She smiled tightly, the kind that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Let me walk you through your role. You'll be Mr. O'Martin's secretary. But only in the afternoons-the busiest part of his day."

I nodded, suddenly nervous.

"You start at 12 PM and close by 6 PM, Monday through Friday."

"But-my classes start at 5 PM..." I said quickly.

"Then move it up by an hour. This is not a negotiation."

I swallowed.

"Have you ever seen a five-hour job pay $50 an hour?" she asked, one brow raised. "If you're not interested, we've got people lining up who'd do it for $20 and smile while at it."

"I could... be an hour late to class," I muttered.

"Good choice," she said, then added, "You can call me Mrs. Brown."

"Got it, Mrs. Brown."

She softened just slightly. "I heard about your brother. That must be hard-school, work, caring for him. But Lena..." She stepped closer, lowering her voice just a little. "Make sure to put on some makeup tomorrow. And... lose the jeans. This is O'Martin Tech, not college orientation."

"Thank you," I said, feeling the heat of her words more than I expected.

She turned and walked out, heels clicking like punctuation marks on marble.

And just like that, I was in.

In a world I didn't understand.

Working for a man no one really knew.

A man who looked like perfection...

But felt like a puzzle I wasn't sure I wanted to solve.

---

I got the job.

My heart leapt with joy-and not just any job, a great offer at that. I wanted to scream, dance, even take a photo of the polished hallways just to capture this moment. If only cameras were allowed.

I quietly exited the building, reminding myself that work starts tomorrow.

I had a list of things to do-shopping to make, news to deliver, and school to attend. It was all happening so fast, and yet, I couldn't wait for what was coming.

But then I paused at the edge of the parking lot.

Wait... I haven't thanked Mr. O'Martin.

I turned back, my feet moving faster than my thoughts. I headed toward the executive wing, but just as I reached the corridor, I realized I needed a passcard to access his office.

Just then, Christian emerged, like he'd been summoned by my intention.

"Oh, hi Lena," he greeted with a kind smile. "All done already?"

"Yeah," I said, trying not to sound out of breath. "I just... I wanted to thank Sir."

He arched a brow, amused. "You mean Ethan?"

I nodded.

"Don't bother," he said with a short chuckle. "He wouldn't want that."

"Why?" I asked, genuinely curious.

Christian gave a small shrug. "He's just... Ethan. No compliments. No attachments. Just work."

"That's new," I said quietly, half to myself.

Christian just smiled. "Good luck tomorrow."

I nodded and hurried out of the building, the city air hitting my face like a fresh reminder that life had just shifted.

---

Shopping for an official outfit was harder than I'd imagined. I shuffled through YouTube videos for inspiration-"What to wear on your first day of work", "Classy secretary style for beginners." It all felt too much.

Heels? No, thank you. My feet would beg for mercy. I chose sneakers and a sleek pair of flats instead. That would work-I saw it on YouTube.

I picked out a few smart blouses and trousers that made me feel... capable. Then I headed home to prep dinner for Audrey and prep myself for school.

---

That night, I couldn't sleep.

My mind spun in every direction-new job, mysterious boss, Audrey's illness, final year stress, tuition bills, my future.

I stared at the ceiling until my alarm jolted me back to reality.

Time to be with my brother, then off to work.

---

"You look sick," Audrey said, eyes twinkling with mischief, "but in a good way."

I laughed, kissing him on the forehead. "Wish me luck."

"At 50 bucks an hour? You don't need luck, sis."

---

By 11:30, I was rushing toward the O'Martin Tech building. My passcard was handed to me at the gate, and I made a beeline for the elevator.

Thank God-it was empty. I stepped in and caught my breath.

But just before the doors closed, a hand slid between them.

The doors reopened.

Ethan.

He stepped in, tall, poised, and still glued to his phone. He pressed the floor button, glancing at me once, maybe twice.

"I just wanted to say thank-"

"Shhh," he cut me off without looking up. "Thank me with your work. Not words."

I stood frozen, unsure if I should apologize or vanish.

He finally looked up, his eyes skimming over me. "You look different," he said simply. "Bit of makeup. Different dress."

I smiled slightly, unsure if that was a compliment or a warning.

"You don't have to dress like that," he added. "Just get the work done."

Before I could respond, the elevator doors opened, and he stepped out-his presence as quiet and cold as ever.

And just like that, day one had begun.

---

The elevator doors shut behind him, and I stood there for a heartbeat longer, unsure whether to exhale or hold it in. Just get the work done. That echoed in my head as I stepped out and followed the hallway toward the office Christian had shown me yesterday.

By noon, I was seated behind a sleek desk just outside Ethan O'Martin's main office. The surface practically reflected my face-clear, shiny, and intimidating. A desktop monitor, a schedule notepad, and a noise-canceling headset were arranged neatly on top, alongside a list of Ethan's appointments for the day.

He hadn't spoken another word to me.

Christian had passed by briefly, dropped off some forms to fill, and told me Mrs. Brown would check in with me by 2 PM. Until then, I was on my own.

The phone rang.

I jumped a little and scrambled to pick it up before the second ring. "O'Martin Tech, Secretary Desk. Lena speaking."

There was silence for a second, then a cool voice on the other end said, "Transfer me to Ethan."

I blinked. "Who's calling, please?"

Another pause.

"Vivian."

Vivian. That name felt like red lipstick and high heels. It felt like someone who didn't need to introduce herself to be known.

"Just a moment," I said quickly, trying to remember how to transfer a call. I clicked the wrong button, then the right one, then finally forwarded it.

A few seconds later, Ethan's voice boomed from his office, low but annoyed.

"Next time, just forward without asking."

I bit my lip. "Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."

---

By 2 PM, Mrs. Brown had come around with a checklist and a brisk nod.

"You're doing okay," she said flatly, scanning the desk. "Keep notes of calls, don't breathe too loud, and never-and I mean never-put anyone through to his line without checking the call sheet first. Got it?"

"Got it."

She squinted at me. "You look more presentable today. Keep it up."

---

The rest of the shift passed in a blur of clicking keys, awkward hallway greetings, and trying not to stare whenever Ethan walked past-usually silent, sometimes on a call, never looking directly at me.

By 5:45, I had sorted out three emails, printed a last-minute schedule Ethan requested via a message that read only: Need this in 5, and I'd managed not to mess up another call transfer.

I packed up slowly. No one told me if I could leave yet.

Then came a soft buzz from my desk phone. Line 1.

"Lena," his voice said.

"Yes, sir?"

"You'll be here same time tomorrow. Earlier if possible. I don't do hand-holding."

I sat still for a moment, then smiled to myself.

No hand-holding. Got it.

I stood up, grabbed my bag, and left the office with one thought:

Day one down. Nineteen more to go.

--

Another call-misdirected again. Lena winced.

She hadn't meant to send it through, but Vivian's intimidating tone always got the better of her. And after Ethan had just complimented her on her organization skills, this mistake felt ten times worse.

Eyes glued to his office door, she braced for impact. Surely, he'd lash out or summon the head of staff to serve her a final warning before the week ended.

But... silence.

The door creaked open quietly. Ethan stepped out, eyes scanning the room-everywhere but her. That alone made Lena squirm in her seat.

Just as she relaxed slightly, he turned.

"Have Christian come to my office in ten minutes," he said.

"Yes, sir," Lena answered quickly.

"And..." He paused. "The nightmare isn't over. I might be expecting someone soon. Make her comfortable. She can bite."

Lena let out a nervous chuckle. Was that... a joke? But his face remained stone-cold.

"Right away, sir," she replied, trying not to show her confusion.

She dialed Christian, then checked the time: 2:50 p.m.

Almost lunch. Ethan usually took his break around 3 p.m.-same with the nearby staff. Ten minutes passed. Then fifteen. Still no sign of Ethan or Christian.

Her stomach grumbled, reminding her she hadn't eaten all day. Audrey's morning check-up had drained her time and energy. She couldn't wait anymore.

She grabbed her bag and made for the elevator.

Just as the doors began to close, she saw him-already inside. Ethan.

Reflexively, she stepped back, but he held the door and gestured. "Come in."

She hesitated, then obeyed. The air felt tense, the confined space too quiet. He was glued to his phone again, endlessly scrolling but not really doing anything. Lena stole a glance at his face now and then-so cold, yet his eyes... strangely warm.

Suddenly, a strange sound rattled through the elevator.

"What's that?" he asked, looking up at her.

"I... I don't know," she stammered, scanning for the source.

The elevator jolted. Then stopped.

Panic surged. Lena hit every button, tried prying the doors open, anything to undo this nightmare. Stuck. In an elevator. With her intimidating boss.

Ethan watched in silence.

Eventually, she slumped against the wall, catching her breath.

"You done?" he finally asked.

"It's stuck," she whispered.

"Yeah. Nothing else." He leaned back casually. "We're stuck."

A beat of silence.

"And if no one notices soon," he added, "we might be here for a while."

"Why?" Lena asked, frowning.

"This elevator? It's the staff one. Comes and goes. Rarely used. I don't usually take it-but... here I am."

---

Lena leaned back against the opposite wall, heart pounding. Of all the scenarios she'd imagined for her second day on the job, this wasn't one of them.

She folded her arms, more to steady herself than anything else. "Do you think someone's noticed by now?"

Ethan gave a soft scoff. "Doubt it. You said you called Christian, right?"

She nodded.

"He won't even come looking until I send a follow-up message," he said, lifting his phone and showing the blank screen. "No signal in here."

Lena's eyes widened. "You're kidding."

He shrugged. "Does it look like I am?"

The silence stretched again, heavier this time. Trapped in a tiny metal box with a man who never smiled, rarely blinked, and just might fire her on the spot-it was suffocating.

She fidgeted with her fingers. "I didn't mean to forward that call earlier... it was a mistake."

"I figured."

"I'm sorry," she added quickly, needing to say it. "I've only just started, and I promise I-"

"Lena," he cut in, his voice low but not sharp. "Breathe."

She blinked at him. That one word-it wasn't dismissive. It was... calming?

"I'm not mad," he continued, this time meeting her eyes. "People mess up. Just don't make a habit of it."

That stunned her more than the elevator jolt. A small nod was all she could manage.

Then, after a moment, he looked her over-not inappropriately, but with subtle curiosity.

"You're a student, right?" he asked.

"Final year," she replied, surprised again. "Psychology."

"Explains the quiet," he said. "Most applicants talk too much."

"I wasn't trying to impress you."

"That's new."

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth-small, fleeting, but real. Lena stared, unsure what surprised her more: the elevator or the almost-smile from Ethan O'Martins.

The silence after that wasn't so heavy anymore. Not warm, not friendly, but... something else. Something she couldn't define yet.

Just as she opened her mouth to speak again, the lights flickered and the elevator hummed back to life. It began to move.

Back to reality.

When the doors finally opened, Ethan stepped out first, then turned halfway toward her. "Let Christian know I want a new elevator schedule. You'll handle that, yes?"

"Yes, sir."

"And Lena?"

She paused.

"You're not bad under pressure."

He walked away.

Lena stood there, mouth slightly open, heart racing-but this time, not entirely from fear.

My afternoon break was a blur, swallowed by nerves and half-eaten lunch. I had barely sat down before I overheard a few staff whispering. Their words weren't meant for me, but they stung all the same.

"She works that close to him already?"

"He gave her a compliment? Ethan? That's rare."

"He's unpredictable. Smiles at you in the morning, fires you by noon."

My fingers tightened around the edge of the table. Everyone had a story about Ethan O'Martin. Some called him the cute devil-the man who could smile and scowl at the same time. Others referred to him as the unfeeling boss, always calm, never shaken. They said he didn't shed a tear when his father had a stroke. Didn't miss a single day of work. Even when his mother passed... nothing. Just silence.

It made me wonder: was he numb or simply trained to hide it all?

I shook the thoughts off and hurried back to my post. As expected, Ethan didn't miss a second of his routine. At exactly 3:20 p.m., he summoned me to his office. My pulse quickened.

Stepping in for the first time felt like entering a different world. His office was triple the size of my bedroom-bright, sleek, intimidating. Every surface gleamed like glass, and his name-Ethan O'Martin, CEO-was engraved on the front of his black glass desk. Behind him, a massive floor-to-ceiling window showcased the city skyline. But my eyes kept drifting to the framed picture on his desk: a woman. Beautiful. Elegant. Almost a mirror version of Ethan, only softer.

"Done looking around?" he said flatly, pulling me back.

"Sorry, sir," I muttered.

He handed me a file. "Have Christian sign this. And next time, don't wait until lunch has passed to eat. We run on time here."

I nodded quickly, hugging the file to my chest.

"I have a meeting shortly," he continued, glancing at his watch. "Would've asked you to come, but you're not dressed for it."

I blinked, taken aback. I'd worn what I thought was perfectly fine office wear.

"It's not terrible," he added, almost to himself, "but looks matter in those rooms."

I bit the inside of my cheek, unsure how to respond.

"And if Vivian comes, tell her I already left."

"Right away, sir," I said, turning to go.

But curiosity tripped me. "Sir... I have a question. Maybe it's out of line."

He narrowed his eyes. "Then don't ask it."

"I was wondering... the photo on your desk. Is she your sister?"

He let out a short breath-half sigh, half laugh. "Vivian? God no."

"No, the other woman." I pointed gently. "She looks like you."

His expression changed slightly, just enough to feel a shift in the room.

"They said she's my mother," he replied flatly.

"She's... beautiful," I said softly.

"She was." That was all. No flicker of emotion. Just silence.

I left his office with a million thoughts bouncing in my head. The woman in the photo. His tone. They said she's my mother? Did he not know for sure? Or did he just prefer distance?

He seemed to carry the weight of a storm-calm on the outside, thunder inside.

I sat at my desk, staring at the clock as minutes crawled toward the end of my shift. When Ethan reappeared, his stride was more purposeful.

"Vivian's not coming," he said. "Christian will join me at the meeting instead. Hand over the files."

I passed them to him quickly, and he took his time going through them, flipping each page like it held secrets. Then, just as he turned to leave, he paused.

"You can go home, Lena. There's nothing left for today."

I nodded, grateful but confused by his sudden shift in tone.

"And Lena," he added, looking at me for the first time since morning. His voice lowered slightly, almost thoughtful.

"Don't believe everything you hear about me."

He smirked-something between a warning and a promise-and walked off.

I stood frozen, heart still racing.

What exactly did he mean by that?

And why, for the first time since meeting him, did it feel like I was just beginning to scratch the surface?

---