The security guards escorted Ethan Cole toward the revolving doors with practiced efficiency. Not rough, not apologetic either. Just firm enough to make it clear he didn't belong.
Behind him, the lobby resumed its quiet rhythm. Phones rang softly. Shoes clicked against polished floors. No one spared him a second glance.
Ethan stopped just short of the exit.
"Wait," he said calmly.
One of the guards frowned. "Sir, you'll need to leave the premises."
Ethan turned slightly, his eyes steady. "You've been given the wrong instructions."
The guard hesitated. "Ms. Lawson doesn't have time for jokes."
"That's exactly why I'm here," Ethan replied.
Before the guard could respond, a sharp voice cut in from behind.
"Still pretending?"
Andrew Whitlock strode over, jacket slung casually over his shoulder, irritation etched plainly on his face. Claire followed closely, her expression tight with barely concealed fury.
"You really have no shame," Claire said. "Do you know what kind of place this is? B Corporation isn't some charity for ex-cons."
Ethan looked at her, noticing how her eyes flicked toward nearby employees, how carefully she kept her voice low. She was embarrassed. Not by him. By the possibility that others might associate them.
"I told you," he said quietly. "I didn't come for you."
Andrew laughed. "You expect anyone to believe that?" He gestured lazily toward the elevators. "This building doesn't open its doors for nobodies."
Ethan met his gaze. "Then you should be careful standing in the way."
Andrew's smile sharpened. "Threatening me now?"
"No," Ethan said. "Warning you."
Claire scoffed. "Enough of this. You're making a scene."
She turned to the guards. "Get him out. Permanently."
The guards exchanged a look and tightened their grip.
Ethan didn't resist. He allowed himself to be guided outside, the glass doors sealing shut behind him with a soft hiss.
The late afternoon air hit his face, cool and sharp.
Inside the building, Claire exhaled in relief. "Finally."
Andrew adjusted his cuffs, still scowling. "Unbelievable nerve."
They headed back toward the VIP lounge, both assuming the interruption was over.
Upstairs, Maggie Lawson stepped out of the elevator.
She was dressed simply, dark suit, hair pulled back, no unnecessary jewelry. The kind of woman who didn't dress to impress because she no longer needed to.
Her assistant hurried beside her. "Ms. Lawson, the VIP guest—"
"Hasn't arrived," Maggie finished, her tone flat.
The assistant hesitated. "I escorted two people to the VIP room."
Maggie stopped walking.
"Two?" she asked.
"Yes. Mr. Whitlock and a companion."
Maggie turned slowly. "Since when is Andrew Whitlock my VIP guest?"
The assistant swallowed. "They said—"
"I know what they said," Maggie cut in. "What did I say?"
The assistant's face paled. "You said the guest was… recently released."
Maggie's eyes narrowed. "And?"
"Tall. Calm. Not someone who announces himself."
Maggie's jaw tightened. "Then why is he not here?"
Realization dawned.
The assistant's hands began to shake. "Security escorted someone out earlier."
Maggie didn't raise her voice. She didn't need to.
"Bring him back," she said. "Now."
Downstairs, Ethan stood near the curb, hands in his pockets, watching traffic slide past.
He wasn't angry. Not yet.
Being dismissed had become familiar.
Footsteps hurried toward him.
"Sir! Mr. Cole!"
He turned as the assistant rushed out, nearly tripping over her heels. She stopped a few feet away, then dropped to her knees.
"I'm so sorry," she said breathlessly. "This was my mistake. Please forgive me."
The guards froze.
Ethan studied her for a moment, then extended a hand. "Stand up."
She did.
"I don't blame you," he said evenly. "Take me to her."
The ride to the top floor was silent.
When the elevator doors opened, Maggie Lawson stood waiting.
She took one look at Ethan and inclined her head slightly. Not a bow. A recognition.
"My apologies," she said. "You were mistreated."
Ethan nodded. "It happens."
She waved her assistant away and led him into her office.
The room was expansive but restrained. No trophies. No personal photos. Just clean lines and deliberate choices.
Maggie gestured for him to sit. "My father speaks highly of you."
"That makes one of us," Ethan replied.
A flicker of surprise crossed her face, quickly masked.
"You're younger than I expected," she said.
"So are you," he returned.
She studied him more carefully now. The posture. The eyes. The absence of desperation.
"You don't look like someone eager for power," she said.
"I wasn't," Ethan replied.
She nodded slowly. "That explains why he trusts you."
She moved to the window. "I'm hosting a charity gala tonight. Publicly, it's about goodwill. Privately, it's about survival."
She turned back. "I need to know who's worth letting close."
Ethan leaned back slightly. "And you think I can tell?"
"I think," Maggie said, "that you see things differently."
He considered this. "You misjudged me earlier."
"I did," she admitted. "That was my mistake."
She paused. "Will you attend?"
"Yes," he said. "But I won't interfere unless necessary."
Maggie nodded. "Fair."
A knock sounded.
The assistant peeked in nervously. "Ms. Lawson… Mr. Whitlock is still waiting."
Maggie's expression hardened. "He won't be."
She glanced at Ethan. "Do you know them?"
"Yes," Ethan said. "Unfortunately."
Maggie exhaled once. "Then that settles it."
She turned to the assistant. "Terminate all cooperation with Claire Bennett's company. As for Whitlock—delay."
The assistant nodded and left.
Downstairs, Claire and Andrew sat in the VIP lounge, champagne untouched.
Something felt wrong
When the assistant returned, her expression was cold.
"You've been impersonating a VIP guest," she said. "All cooperation is terminated."
Claire stood abruptly. "This is a mistake!"
Security arrived.
Outside, Claire's voice shook. "This is because of him, isn't it?"
Andrew forced a smile. "We'll clear it up tonight."
He pulled out two invitations.
Claire clutched his arm. "You won't let me fall, right?"
Andrew didn't answer right away.
High above, Ethan watched the city lights come on.
The gala awaited.
And so did consequences.