chapter 3
992 Words
For a Man Made of Control, Ethan Hayes had mastered the art of restraint.
It was in the way he adjusted his cufflinks precise and unhurried. In the way he listened without reacting, allowed silence to do the heavy lifting. In the way people lowered their voices the moment he entered a room. Like a god or something.
Power doesn’t shout when it belongs to you, It waits.
The board room at Hayes Paradise was filled, yet no one spoke when he took his seat at the head of the table. Glass walls reflects the city below, sunlight glinting off steel and ambition. His executives sits stiffly, tablets ready, eyes alert, ears wide open. If you miss it, it’s gone.
Across from him sat the one man who had never learned when to stop speaking.
His father.
Albert Hayes leaned back in his chair like he still owned the world and by extension, his son. Silver hair slicked back, expensive suit tailored to perfection, eyes sharp with expectation and disappointment all at once.
“You are very late,” Albert said flatly.
“I’m on time,” Ethan replied, checking his watch. “You are just impatient.”
A murmur rippled through the room. It wasn’t something new to them, it happens every time there is a meeting.
Albert’s lips pressed thin. “This company exists because of me.”
“And thrives because of me,” Ethan said calmly. “Let’s not confuse legacy with relevance. I keep it running”
The air tightened.
Executives avoided eye contact. This wasn’t new but it was never comfortable.
Albert leaned forward. “You have been distant lately.”
Ethan met his gaze without flinching. “I’m busy. Not that it’s any of your concern”
“With what? Ignoring your responsibilities?” His father’s eyes flicked pointedly toward the empty chair beside Ethan. “Your fiancée should be here.”
“She had an engagement, and it’s not your business” Ethan replied coolly.
Richard scoffed. “She always does.”
Becky Lawrence arrived late on purpose.
She liked entrances.
Her heels clicked sharply against the marble floor as she walked into the room, dressed impeccably in a fitted cream dress that screamed old money and entitlement. Her smile was bright, practiced, and completely insincere. You could see it in her eyes.
“Darling,” she said sweetly, kissing Ethan’s cheek.
He didn’t lean into it.
“Sorry I’m late,” she added lightly. “Traffic.”
Albert’s eyes softened immediately. “No worries, Becky. Sit.”
She did right beside Ethan, crossing her legs slowly, deliberately brushing against him.
He shifted away.
Unnoticed by everyone except her.
She glanced at him sideways, lips curving. “You missed me.”
“No,” he replied under his breath. “I didn’t.”
Her smile faltered for a split second before recovering.
The meeting dragged on, projections and profits discussed while Ethan’s mind stayed sharp, distant. He spoke when necessary, corrected errors efficiently, shut down nonsense without raising his voice.
Becky barely listened.
She checked her phone repeatedly, thumb moving fast, attention elsewhere. Every now and then, she smiled at something on her screen private, pleased.
Ethan noticed.
He notices everything.
After the meeting, Albert stopped him in the hallway.
“You’re getting married in three months,” his father said. “Try acting like it.”
Ethan’s jaw tightened. “This marriage is a contract. We both know that.”
Albert scoffed. “Feelings are irrelevant. Stability matters.”
“For you,” Ethan replied. “Not for me.”
Albert stepped closer. “Don’t ruin this.”
Ethan leaned in slightly. “Don’t threaten me.”
They stared at each other, two immovable forces colliding in silence.
Then Albert turned away.
Becky slipped her arm through Ethan’s as soon as they were alone.
“You were cold in there,” she said, pouting. “Your father noticed.”
“I don’t perform affection for an audience,” he replied, gently removing her arm.
She laughed lightly. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re bored,” he said bluntly.
Her laughter stopped.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” he said, eyes dark, voice low, “that you like attention. And you’re not getting enough.”
She bristled. “Are you accusing me of something?”
“No,” he replied smoothly. “I’m observing.”
She stepped closer, pressing herself against him. “Maybe if you touched me more, I wouldn’t have to look elsewhere.”
His gaze hardened instantly.
“Be careful,” he warned. “You won’t like what happens when I stop pretending not to hear things like that.”
For the first time, uncertainty flickered across her face.
Then she smiled again. “You’re so dramatic, and here I thought I was.”
She walked away, hips swaying, confidence restored.
Ethan stood still, unease curling in his chest.
Later that evening, Ethan sat alone in his office, city lights stretching endlessly below.
His personal assistant knocked softly. “Sir, I’ve finalized your schedule for tomorrow.”
“Thank you,” he said without looking up.
She hesitated. “There’s also a reservation reminder. For you and Ms. Lawrence.”
He finally glanced up. “Cancel it.”
Her fingers paused on the tablet. “Again?”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Is that a problem?”
“No,” she replied quickly. “Of course not.”
She left.
Ethan leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly.
Everything in his life was controlled, Measured, Strategized.
So why did it feel like something was slipping from his grasp?
Across town, Becky laughed into her phone, glass of wine in hand, her reflection smiling back at her from the mirror.
“You miss me already don’t you?” she purred.
A man’s voice replied, low and amused.
She didn’t see the cracks forming.
She never did.
- Writer
