Ethan told her over coffee.
Not in the office — a quiet place near the courthouse, the kind of café that minded its own business. He arrived first, which she'd learned meant the conversation was one he'd been preparing for. She sat across from him and wrapped her hands around her cup and waited.
"He's tired," Ethan said.
She looked at him.
"That was the first thing I noticed," he said. "He's always been — controlled. Precise. Every word placed exactly where he wanted it." He looked at his cup. "Last night he just looked tired."
"What did he say?" Aria asked.
"That he built the company for me." Ethan said it flatly — not bitterly, just accurately. "That everything he did was so there would be something worth inheriting." He paused. "He actually believes that. That's the part I couldn'
