Chapter 6
1022 Words
Ethan Lyric’s mansion sat at the far end of Blackstone Hill, a place the city often whispered about: quiet roads, sculpted gardens, and homes so refined that they looked more like art museums than places ordinary humans lived in. His own house—a blend of polished marble, dark wood, and glass panels that stretched from floor to ceiling—was the crown jewel of the hill. It was a home meant to reflect stability, legacy, and power. But tonight, despite all the grandeur, Ethan felt strangely unsettled.
He walked across the wide living room, his footsteps soft against the warm Italian tiles. The entire space smelled faintly of cedarwood and something clean and expensive—his housekeeper’s signature scent choice. Crystal lights hung from the ceiling like captured stars, glowing gently over the deep navy furniture.
Outside the glass walls, the city glittered in the distance, lights sparkling like a field of restless fireflies. Ethan slipped a hand into his pocket as he moved, trying to ground himself. Normally, coming home meant slipping into silence and order. But today, his thoughts refused to cooperate.
His mind kept drifting back to her.
Amelia Hayes.
He stopped beside the grand piano—a piece he rarely played anymore—and exhaled. “Why am I thinking about this?” he muttered, though he knew exactly why. Earlier that day, when she sat across from him during her interview, something had shifted. It wasn’t dramatic, not something like lightning or magic. It was quieter, but noticeable enough to stay with him long after she left.
There had been sincerity in her eyes. Focus. Bravery too—considering the chaos of her first accidental entrance into the boardroom. Most candidates hid behind rehearsed lines, polished speeches, and shallow confidence. Amelia spoke like someone trying to survive, someone who needed this opportunity not for show but for life.
Ethan found himself walking toward the balcony. He stepped into the cool evening breeze, resting his palms on the slim metal railing as he stared at the skyline. Below, his estate stretched beautifully—a manicured lawn, a stone pathway lined with low garden lights, and a modern sculpture that his mother had chosen years ago.
He inhaled deeply, letting the cold air settle into his chest.
He needed to refocus.
Lyric Industries needed direction—stronger than ever. The board was pressuring him more aggressively these days, especially after news leaked that his uncle had been positioning himself quietly, waiting for Ethan to slip, waiting for him to fall short of the deadline hidden in the will.
Lyric Industries, founded by Ethan’s grandfather, wasn’t just a simple business. It was one of the biggest multi-sector corporations in the country—technology, advanced manufacturing, pharmaceutical research, clean energy innovations, and a small but influential media wing. It was a beast with many heads, and Ethan was expected to tame all of them.
His grandfather had once said: “This company builds the future. That’s why you must guard it fiercely.”
Ethan tightened his grip on the railing.
He’d been running the company well, but not brilliantly. Not enough to silence the board completely. Not enough to stop his uncle’s lingering shadow. And now, the timeline of his grandfather’s will rested on his shoulders like an invisible weight.
He stepped back inside, sliding the glass door shut. The lights adjusted automatically, warming the room with a soft golden glow. Ethan headed into his study, where shelves of books lined the walls—business strategy, leadership, innovation, and a few old classics his mother used to read to him.
He lowered into the large leather chair behind his desk. His tablet blinked with notifications, mostly from department heads and executives. But out of everything on that screen, one name hovered in the back of his mind.
Amelia Hayes, Junior Strategic Assistant.
She wasn’t starting yet, but he had already approved everything—her appointment letter, her orientation schedule, her access card. He rarely got personally involved in new hires. Yet with Amelia, he had felt something… new. Not romantic, not dramatic—just a sense of curiosity. Interest. A feeling that she might contribute something fresh to the company.
He leaned back slightly, fingers tapping the arm of his chair.
“She might understand things differently,” he said quietly, remembering her bold yet honest responses during the interview.
He needed people like that.
People who weren't afraid to speak without using corporate language. People who still believed in hope, in hard work, in rebuilding.
He opened his tablet and flipped through the current-year projections of Lyric Industries. Numbers, graphs, forecasts—things that usually energized him. Tonight, the data looked blurry. His mind wandered again.
To Amelia’s expression when she realized she had gotten the job. That moment of disbelief, followed by relief, followed by something like gratitude.
Ethan shut the tablet and rubbed his chin, a small frown forming.
Was he losing focus? No. He wasn’t the type to be distracted by a new employee. He simply found her background interesting, her resilience worth noting. He had met countless people born into ease, floating through interviews with empty words. Amelia was different: her life had shaped her into someone firm at the core.
He rose from his chair and walked into the kitchen. The lights flicked on with a clean white glow. He poured himself a glass of water and leaned on the counter. The house was quiet except for the distant hum of the city.
He needed a new strategy for Lyric Industries—something to boost their innovation wing. Something bold. Something surprising. Maybe Amelia’s fresh perspective would help him see options he had missed.
Ethan took a slow sip, then exhaled.
Tomorrow, the real work would begin.
And strangely, he wasn’t dreading it.
For the first time in a long time… he felt a shift. A small one, subtle but promising.
As he walked back toward the living room, he glanced once more at the city lights and allowed himself a brief thought:
Maybe hiring Amelia Hayes was more important than he first realized.
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