Yes Daddy

The Rumor With A Suitcase

I’ve always said the office is its own ecosystem half zoo, half reality show. One little rumor drops, and suddenly everyone forgets about deadlines and becomes an investigative journalist with a latte.

By Tuesday morning, Dewitt & Co. was practically vibrating. People were whispering in corners, typing furiously in chats, pretending to “print documents” just to stroll past each other’s desks. The buzzword of the day: the new regional director.

I walked in late on purpose fashionably ten minutes past the hour because nothing kills gossip like the person everyone’s dying to talk about walking in looking unbothered.

“Morning,” I said, tossing my bag on my chair. “Has anyone done actual work today, or are we just building theories?”

Rob looked guilty. “We were just… brainstorming.”

“About?”

“Team culture.”

“Sure. That’s what we’re calling stalking now.”

Laughter broke out. I took my seat, legs crossed, coffee in hand the picture of controlled chaos. “So,” I said, “what’s the latest fiction about our mystery man?”

Clara grinned. “Someone from New York. Apparently, he doubled sales in one quarter.”

Lana chimed in, “And rumor says he’s wait for it under thirty-five.”

“Great,” I said dryly. “So he’s ambitious and young enough to still believe in motivational quotes.”

The girls giggled. Rob added, “Word is he’s arriving next week. Big deal, lots of experience, corporate golden boy type.”

I tilted my head. “And management didn’t think to tell the person who runs half the campaigns here?”

“Maybe they’re planning a surprise,” Lana said.

“Please. The last time management surprised me, it was with budget cuts.”

Still, I felt that spark again the one I hadn’t felt in months. Not excitement exactly, more like curiosity with a hint of challenge. Whoever he was, he’d be stepping into my arena. And I don’t share arenas easily.

By mid-morning, the buzz had evolved into mythology. Someone claimed he used to model before business school. Another swore he was ruthless with underperformers. My favorite rumor came from Clara: “He doesn’t talk much, but when he does, people listen.”

I raised a brow. “So basically corporate Batman.”

“Exactly,” she said, dead serious.

I laughed so hard I almost spilled my coffee. “Well, Gotham’s not ready for me either.”

Still, part of me wondered what kind of man walks into a company like this and makes an entire staff lose composure before even arriving.

At lunch, Lana dragged me to the breakroom to “observe the chaos.” It didn’t disappoint. Half the team was clustered around someone’s laptop, zooming in on a LinkedIn profile.

“Oh my God,” Lana whispered. “They found him.”

I rolled my eyes. “Please tell me we’re not stalking a résumé.”

But curiosity betrayed me. I leaned closer. The page was half-blurred behind a privacy setting, just a name and a grayscale photo clean-cut suit, confident posture. No smile.

Ethan Ward.

The name sounded sharp, deliberate.

“That’s him?” I asked.

“That’s him,” someone confirmed. “Regional director from New York branch. Starts Monday.”

I straightened up, shrugging like it didn’t matter. “Let’s hope he’s as good at marketing as he is at causing office drama.”

Inside, though, I noted the name. Ethan Ward. It had weight. A name you didn’t forget easily.

Back at my desk, Lana leaned over the cubicle wall. “Don’t tell me you’re not a little intrigued.”

“Curiosity isn’t attraction,” I said.

“Please. You live for a challenge.”

I smirked. “True. But until he proves he’s worth the hype, he’s just a rumor with a suitcase.”

The afternoon dragged. I buried myself in proposals, fighting the temptation to check LinkedIn myself. By four, even I couldn’t focus. Every ping of an email made someone jump like it was a secret announcement.

Finally, an all-staff memo dropped:

> Subject: New Appointment Regional Director

Please join us in welcoming Mr. Ethan Ward to the Dewitt & Co. team. He will begin his role next week.

The office exploded in digital confetti emojis, gifs, side chats. I leaned back, rereading the name. Mr. Ethan Ward. No picture, no details, just the title. Somehow that made it more intriguing.

“Guess it’s official,” Lana said, appearing in my doorway.

“Yep. Mystery solved.”

She smirked. “You don’t look disappointed.”

“I’m not,” I said, sipping what was left of my coffee. “I’m… curious.”

“Dangerous word for you,” she teased.

She wasn’t wrong. Curiosity had a way of turning into chaos in my world.

As the day wound down, I stayed late, polishing a presentation for the new quarter. Everyone else trickled out, laughter echoing through the hallway. The city outside shimmered in twilight, and I caught my reflection in the glass again same confident woman, but with a spark in her eyes this time.

Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was intuition. But something about that name lingered, humming under my skin like the pause before thunder.

I smiled at my reflection. “Let’s see what you’ve got, Mr. Ward.”

Then I turned off the lights, heels clicking toward the elevator, unaware that the first meeting on next week’s schedule had just been updated “Project Integration Ava Collins / Ethan Ward.”