Chapter 3 - The Summons to the Glass Tower
The black town car arrived at precisely 9:00 a.m.
The driver, a polite man named Arthur, helped me buckle Sophie’s car seat into the back of the pristine, leather-scented vehicle. I felt entirely out of place in my faded jeans and the one decent wool sweater I owned, but as I looked at Sophie, dressed in a clean, warm onesie from the bags Ethan had brought, I held my head high. I wasn't doing this for myself. I was doing this for her.
The Cole Industries headquarters was a towering monolith of glass and steel in downtown Indianapolis. As we walked through the grand lobby, the receptionist smiled warmly, bypassing the security line entirely.
"Miss Vance—excuse me, Miss Taylor?" she asked, correcting herself with a polite smile. "Mr. Cole is expecting you. Please take the private elevator to the top floor."
My hands shook as the elevator shot upward. When the doors opened, we were greeted by a spacious executive suite with panoramic views of the snowy city. Ethan was standing by a massive oak desk, looking impossibly sharp in a tailored three-piece navy suit. The exhaustion that had shadowed his eyes the night before was gone, replaced by a razor-sharp focus.
"Clara," he said, stepping forward. He didn't offer a cold corporate handshake; instead, he gently touched Sophie’s tiny hand, which was clutching the stuffed rabbit he had bought her. "Did you sleep?"
"A little," I admitted. "Ethan, what are we doing here? If Marcus sees me—"
"That is exactly the point," Ethan said, his voice steady and grounding. "Marcus Vance has abused his authority within my company. He used our automated hiring portal to flag your Social Security number and automatically reject your resume to ensure you could never gain financial stability or get close enough to demand child support. That is a violation of corporate ethics, and frankly, a violation of basic human decency."
Before I could process the depth of Marcus's cruelty, the heavy double doors of the boardroom at the end of the hall opened. A group of executives began filtering out, talking quietly.
And then, I saw him.
Marcus. He looked exactly the same, perhaps a bit more polished in his designer suit, his hair perfectly coiffed. He was laughing at something another board member said, looking completely at ease, entirely unbothered by the lives he had ruined.
As Marcus turned the corner, his eyes swept over the reception area. He stopped dead in his tracks.
The laughter died on his lips. His face went through a rapid succession of emotions: confusion, shock, and then a sneering, ugly anger. He took a step toward me, his voice a low hiss.
"Clara? What the hell are you doing here? How did you get past security? If you think you can come to my workplace and make a scene for money—"
"She is here as my personal guest, Marcus," Ethan’s voice cut through the air like a guillotine.
Marcus froze, his head snapping toward Ethan. The arrogance drained from his posture in an instant, replaced by a frantic, submissive desire to please his billionaire boss.
"Mr. Cole! I... I apologize. This woman is an ex-associate. She’s... she’s unstable. I’ll have security escort her out immediately—"
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"You won't touch her," Ethan said, stepping directly between Marcus and me. "And you will address her with respect. Clara is here because we have some unfinished business to discuss. In my office. Now."
The look on Marcus's face was priceless. It was the look of a man who had built a fortress of lies, only to realize the foundation was made of sand—and the tide was coming in.
