Victor invited Ethan to dinner at a private club and insisted it be “founders only,” no assistants, or notes. Mara heard about it afterward and hated the separation. Ethan returned late, quiet, and tense, like someone had been pressured in a locked room.
“He kept saying we’d miss the window,” Ethan admitted the next morning, rubbing his eyes. “And he talked about you like… like you were replaceable. I didn’t like it…I felt my hand was being forced.” Mara waited for Ethan to shrug it off. He did not. His anger looked real.