Chapter 262
Michael didn’t move for a long moment after Winnie got out of the car.
The door closed.
The sound felt heavier than it should have.
She didn’t look back.
Of course she didn’t.
That was always how it ended with her—clean cuts, no hesitation, no lingering softness. Even when there had once been something there, she had a way of walking away like it never existed.
Michael sat in the driver’s seat, still.
A faint emotion passed through his eyes—something restrained, difficult to name. It surfaced briefly, then sank back into the silence of the night.
He exhaled once and drove off.
Three days later.
The morning in the city was bright—too clean, almost harsh. Sunlight spilled across the Morrison Group’s glass fa?ade, turning the building into a reflection of precision and control.
Inside, work had already begun.
Ethan stepped out of the elevator with easy confidence, greeting employees as he passed. Polished shoes, relaxed smile, familiar charm—everything about him suggested control over his world.
He stopped in front of Khloe’s office.
Knocked twice.
Then entered without waiting.
“Morning,” he said lightly.
Khloe looked up almost immediately, as if she had already sensed him coming. A faint smile formed on her lips.
“You’re here. Good timing.” She closed the file in front of her. “A major partner is coming later to discuss a key project. Want to go over it together?”
Ethan blinked.
“You’re not going to ask what project it is first?”
Khloe leaned back slightly.
“No need,” she said calmly. “Anything you’ve screened won’t be a problem.”
The answer was simple.
Too simple.
Ethan paused for half a beat longer than usual, studying her.
There was something different in her tone today—no probing, no guarded layers, no subtle testing.
Just trust.
Or at least something that looked like it.
He nodded and left the office without pressing further.
As he walked away, he couldn’t help thinking how predictable the day was going to be.
Trey would arrive later for the collaboration meeting.
Old connections. Old history.
He could already imagine the atmosphere turning sharp the moment those two were in the same room.
It would be entertaining, at the very least.
Probably disastrous, at worst.
By the time Ethan returned to his own office, his phone rang.
Clarice.
He frowned slightly.
She should have still been out handling business.
“Mom?” he answered.
But the moment he heard her voice, his expression changed.
Sharpened.
Ten minutes later, he was in the project department.
His steps were fast now—no longer composed.
He stopped abruptly in front of an empty desk.
Blank.
Cleared.
No files. No personal items. No sign that anyone had worked there at all.
Ethan’s brows tightened.
“Where is Charlotte?” he asked sharply.
A nearby employee hesitated.
“She… resigned, I think.”
“Resigned?” Ethan repeated.
His voice lowered.
“When?”
The employee avoided his gaze. “A few days ago.”
Ethan went still.
Three days.
Right after she had sent him that data from Khloe’s computer.
At the time, he had thought she was finally cooperating—useful, even reliable in her own quiet way.
Now it clicked into place.
Charlotte hadn’t been obedient.
She had been calculating.
The so-called “data” she had passed on wasn’t assistance.
It was sabotage.
Back at the higher level, Clarice’s plan had already been in motion.
A two-pronged strategy:
Strip Morrison Group’s internal strength through external project diversion.
And pressure Khloe until she had no ground left to stand on.
Clean. Quiet. Difficult to trace.
At least, that was the intention.
Ethan had handled the early steps—small project bids, subtle diversions, internal adjustments that seemed harmless on the surface. Nothing alarming yet. Nothing that would immediately raise suspicion.
But over time, the slow losses would accumulate.
And when the foundation finally cracked, the blame would land in one place.
Khloe.
That had been the plan.
Charlotte was supposed to be a piece of it.
Instead, she had flipped the board.
Her falsified data had thrown everything off balance, feeding them the wrong direction at exactly the wrong time.
Now Clarice was furious.
Not just at the outcome—but at him.
Ethan pulled out his phone.
Called Charlotte.
No answer.
Sent a message.
Blocked.
A long silence followed.
Then he exhaled sharply, frustration tightening his jaw.
“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath. “That girl…”