Chapter 2 - The Canvas Bag
The sixty-fourth floor of Parker Innovations smelled like ozone, expensive espresso, and the kind of filtered air that only exists above the clouds.
Clare stepped off the private elevator carrying the canvas bag. The receptionist’s desk was empty. The glass corridors were quiet, the staff already funneling into the main conference room for the Halverson merger.
Clare walked softly toward Ethan’s corner office. The heavy mahogany door was cracked open just an inch, spilling a sliver of artificial white light onto the carpet.
She raised her hand to push it open.
"Ethan, stop, the board is waiting," a woman’s voice murmured. A familiar voice. Chloe Vance, his thirty-two-year-old Vice President of Acquisitions.
"The board waits for me," Ethan’s voice replied. It was the low, gravelly tone he hadn't used with Clare in a decade.
Clare stopped. Her hand hovered in the air.
"What if Clare finds out?" Chloe asked, though she didn't sound particularly worried. She sounded amused.
"Clare?" Ethan laughed. It was a short, dismissive sound that hit Clare’s chest like a physical blow. "Clare is... comfortable. She makes pot roast. She wears the same blue dress from our twenties. She lives in a bubble I built for her. She would never understand this world, Chloe. This is where I actually breathe."
Clare’s fingers went numb.
The heavy canvas bag slipped from her grip. It hit the floor with a sickening, wet crunch. The ceramic dish inside shattered, sending a pool of dark brown gravy and perfectly braised carrots seeping across the ten-thousand-dollar Persian rug.
Inside the office, the rustling instantly stopped.
Chloe stepped into the sliver of light, her silk blouse unbuttoned at the collar. She looked down at the ruined food, then up at Clare’s face. The younger woman’s eyes widened in genuine panic.
"Sir," Chloe whispered, backing away from him. "Your wife heard you."
Ethan appeared in the doorway. He didn't look guilty. He didn't look ashamed. He looked down at the gravy soaking into his rug, and then he looked at Clare in her outdated blue dress, his expression hardening into pure, arrogant annoyance.
He calmly buttoned his suit jacket, physically pushing Chloe aside as he stepped into the hall.
"For God's sake, Clare," Ethan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "What are you doing here? I told you I had the Halverson merger today."
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"It's our fifteenth anniversary," Clare whispered, her voice trembling just once.
"And you brought me a pot roast," he said, shaking his head with a cruel, patronizing smile. "Clare, I don't have time for a domestic crisis. Take my black card. Go to a spa. Go buy a new dress. We'll talk about this tonight when I'm done running a billion-dollar company."
