Chapter Thirteen
821 Words
Ethan didn’t speak for nearly a minute.
He simply stared at the screen.
TaskFlow.
Invoice automation.
Customer management.
Expense tracking.
AI-generated reminders.
Sales reports.
Simple.
Intuitive.
Built with users in mind.
Not investors.
Not executives.
Not shareholders.
Actual people.
The kind Ethan’s company had slowly forgotten.
He leaned back in his chair.
“I hate this.”
Amelia frowned.
“What?”
He looked up.
“I hate that you built this alone.”
She smiled.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It wasn’t.”
“You’ve spent four years cleaning houses.”
“Supporting your brother.”
“Coding after midnight.”
“Running on caffeine and grief.”
“And somehow…”
He pointed at the screen.
“You still built something better than what some startups raise twenty million dollars to create.”
Amelia closed the laptop halfway.
“I appreciate that.”
“But I don’t need sympathy.”
“Good.”
“Because I don’t give sympathy.”
Silence.
Then Ethan stood.
Walked toward the window.
“You need money.”
“I need investors.”
“You need legal protection.”
“I’ll figure it out.”
“You need a development team.”
“I’ll learn.”
“You need users.”
“I’ll find them.”
“You need marketing.”
“I’ll teach myself.”
Ethan turned.
Annoyed.
“You always this stubborn?”
She folded her arms.
“You always try to buy solutions?”
“It’s efficient.”
“It creates dependency.”
“It creates opportunities.”
“It creates debt.”
Silence.
She looked down.
Then spoke quietly.
“I’ve spent four years trying not to owe anyone anything.”
“I can’t start now.”
Ethan softened.
“Even if the person helping you doesn’t expect anything back?”
She met his eyes.
“People always expect something back.”
He didn’t answer.
Because she wasn’t entirely wrong.
His former fiancée had wanted status.
Investors wanted profits.
Friends wanted access.
Employees wanted promotions.
People wanted things.
And maybe—
Just maybe—
Amelia was the first person he’d met in years who wanted absolutely nothing from him.
That unsettled him.
He left for his room.
“Good night” he said as she closed the door!
The next morning—
Blackwood Technologies.
Executive floor.
David entered Ethan’s office.
“Sir.”
Ethan looked up.
“What?”
“You look…”
David paused.
“Different.”
“I slept.”
David nearly fell over.
“Excuse me?”
“I slept for six hours.”
David sat down.
“We should call the media.”
Yeah, I walked in earlier, saw you sound asleep,
I didn’t want to wake you up”
Ethan smirked.
“Funny.”
David became serious.
“About TaskFlow…”
Ethan’s expression changed.
“What about it?”
“You mentioned it in your sleep.”
Silence…
“You heard nothing.”
“I heard enough.”
“Apparently she’s brilliant.”
“David.”
“Sir?”
“If you tell anyone…”
“I know.”
“I’ll disappear.”
“Exactly.”
David nodded.
Then hesitated.
“There’s something else.” David said
“What?”
“One of our competitors is aggressively looking for small business software startups.”
Ethan frowned.
“So?”
“They’ve been buying unfinished products.”
“Cheap.”
“Early stage.”
“Founders desperate for money.”
Ethan suddenly thought about Amelia.
About Lucas.
About MIT.
About promises.
About exhaustion.
About loneliness.
And for the first time—
He realized something.
Amelia wasn’t protecting TaskFlow from failure.
She was protecting it from being taken away.
Later that evening—
Amelia sat in her room.
Laptop open.
Lucas on video call.
“So?”
Lucas grinned.
“Did Billionaire Boy invest?”
“No.”
“Did he flirt?”
“No.”
“Did he smile?”
She paused.
“Once.”
Lucas gasped dramatically.
“Oh my God.”
“Write this down.”
“History has been made.”
Amelia laughed.
“You’re ridiculous.”
Lucas leaned closer.
“Serious question.”
“Do you trust him?”
Silence.
She looked at TaskFlow.
At years of work.
At her father’s quote taped beside her desk.
At her mother’s photograph.
At the MIT acceptance letter she still kept.
Then she answered honestly.
“I don’t know.”
“But…”
“What?”
“For the first time in years…”
“I think someone finally sees me.”
Lucas smiled.
“About time.”
Neither of them noticed—
Just outside her door—
Ethan had stopped walking.
And heard every word.
Including—
“For the first time in years…”
“I think someone finally sees me.”
Ethan stood there.
Motionless.
Because suddenly—
Helping Amelia wasn’t about business anymore.
It was becoming personal.
- Writer
