Chapter 4 - The Boardroom Storm
By nine o'clock the next morning, the fallout of Ethan's departure had reached the top floor of the Carter & Rowe building.
Ethan sat at his desk, a cup of black coffee in hand, staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the snow-covered park below. The phone on his desk had been ringing almost continuously since he arrived.
The door to his office slammed open, and David Rowe, his senior partner, marched in. David was a man of sixty, with silver hair, a permanent scowl, and a deep devotion to the firm's corporate image. He threw a copy of the Northbridge Gazette onto Ethan’s desk.
"Have you lost your mind, Ethan?" David demanded, pointing a trembling finger at the front-page headline.
"The headline is quite accurate," Ethan said, taking a slow sip of his coffee. "In fact, it’s one of the few times the Gazette has gotten the facts straight."
"We look like monsters!" David hissed, pacing the floor. "We look like we took money away from an elementary school during Christmas! Do you have any idea how many of our corporate clients sit on the Northbridge school board? Richard Vance called me twenty minutes ago threatening to move his entire legal portfolio to our competitors!"
"Richard Vance can do whatever he likes," Ethan said calmly. "His company has been bordering on environmental fraud for three years. I was planning on dropping him as a client anyway."
"This isn't a joke, Ethan! Your father spent thirty years building the reputation of this firm. You can't just throw it away because of some personal crusade for a random kid!"
Ethan stood up, his height and commanding presence instantly shifting the power dynamic in the room. "The 'random kid' was a seven-year-old girl who was left sitting in a dark corner of a gymnasium while a bunch of wealthy socialites patted themselves on the back for being 'generous.' I withdrew the grant because Northbridge used our money to fund a public relations stunt, not a charity. If our clients can't understand that, then they don't deserve our representation."
David stared at him, his face twisting in frustration. "You're changing, Ethan. Ever since... ever since the accident, you've been looking for something to fight. But this isn't the way to do it. You're going to ruin us."
"I’m not changing, David," Ethan said softly, the mention of the "accident"—the sudden loss of his sister three years ago—bringing a brief shadow over his eyes. "I'm just finally paying attention. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a court filing to prepare."
As David stormed out, slamming the door behind him, Ethan’s private phone buzzed on his desk. It was a text message from a number he had saved the night before.
May you like
Ethan smiled, his fingers flying across the screen.
The trouble is the best part, Sarah. And please, call me Ethan.
