Chapter 287
“You’re going to help me with something.”
Clarice placed a freshly printed document on the desk in front of Ethan.
He lowered his gaze to it, reading quickly. A faint flicker of surprise crossed his eyes.
“You want me to… move against the Hunt family?”
“Don’t concern yourself with why,” Clarice said flatly. “Just execute it. If this fails, I will be deeply disappointed in you.”
The last sentence carried no raised voice—only quiet finality.
And yet Ethan understood it perfectly.
Being “a disappointment” to Clarice wasn’t a casual reprimand. It meant losing everything he had spent years building in the Morrison family and the Morrison Group. It meant being erased without ceremony.
His jaw tightened slightly.
“But the company… my current projects—”
“Suspended,” Clarice cut in. “A few days. It will serve as the official explanation to Khloe. If you can’t even handle this properly, I won’t waste time covering for you. Follow procedure—Khloe cannot interfere.”
There was no opening for negotiation.
Ethan exhaled slowly. He could already see it—Clarice had made up her mind before he even entered the room.
“Understood,” he said at last. “I’ll return to the office and transfer my current work.”
“Go.”
Clarice didn’t look at him again.
Ethan left.
Only after the door closed did Clarice open her laptop. The encrypted file on George appeared once more on the screen.
Ten years ago, George had crossed a line with a powerful underworld group.
Now the debt had finally found its way forward.
And if it happened to land on his son instead… that was simply how consequences worked.
—
By evening, Ethan had returned to the office to finish handing over his tasks.
The building was quieter than usual at this hour, most employees already gone.
Just as he reached his office door, he paused.
There was someone inside.
He pushed the door open.
Charlotte stood near the desk.
She was not dressed as she usually was. The casual, relaxed outfits she preferred were gone. Instead, she wore a fitted knit dress that traced her slim figure and softened her youthful face into something unexpectedly striking.
Ethan leaned against the doorframe, studying her.
“Looking for me?”
Charlotte turned immediately. She had clearly been waiting.
“Yeah… about last night,” she began.
Ethan gave a short, dismissive laugh. “I was drunk. Don’t tell me you’re here to accuse me of harassment.”
He barely remembered the details, but the possibility alone irritated him more than it should have.
“I’m not,” Charlotte said quickly.
She hesitated, then lifted her gaze to him. “I… wanted to invite you to dinner.”
He paused.
“…Dinner?”
“Yes.”
Before she could elaborate, Ethan stepped closer and pressed his hand lightly to her forehead.
“Do you have a fever?”
His palm was warm and dry. The sudden contact made her stiffen.
“I’m fine,” she said, pulling back instinctively. “If you don’t want to—”
But he caught her wrist before she could retreat.
In one smooth motion, he drew her closer—not forceful enough to hurt, but enough that her space vanished entirely.
His presence filled the room, tall and unyielding, casting her in his shadow.
He studied her with slow, almost lazy curiosity.
“When did the sun start rising in the west?” he murmured. “I thought you couldn’t stand me.”