Chapter 12 Masks and Mirrors #2
None of that changed the fact that he hated standing in crowded ballrooms pretending to enjoy small talk with people who viewed every conversation as a transaction.
By the time dessert was served, he was already mentally planning his escape.
Unfortunately, the board had other plans.
The warning signs appeared immediately.
Richard Caldwell approached him shortly after the final speeches concluded.
The older man wore the polished smile of someone preparing for an uncomfortable conversation.
Ethan recognized it instantly.
Years of corporate politics had made him fluent in expressions people never intended to reveal.
"Walk with me."
Not a request.
Not quite an order.
Something in between.
Ethan glanced toward the ballroom.
Across the room, Oliver was speaking with several chefs near the kitchen entrance.
For a brief moment, their eyes met.
A small smile appeared on Oliver's face.
The sight immediately improved Ethan's mood.
Dangerously so.
Then Richard cleared his throat.
The moment vanished.
"Of course."
Together they left the ballroom.
The noise faded as they entered a private conference room adjacent to the event hall.
The moment Ethan stepped inside, irritation immediately surfaced.
Three board members already occupied the room.
Along with Sophia's father.
And the company's lead investor representative.
Wonderful.
An ambush.
His favorite.
The door closed behind them.
Silence settled briefly.
No one seemed eager to begin.
Which usually meant the topic was unpleasant.
Eventually Richard sat down.
The others followed.
Ethan remained standing.
"What's this about?"
The direct approach eliminated several minutes of pointless conversation.
Richard exchanged a glance with the others.
Then sighed.
"Investor confidence."
Of course.
Always investor confidence.
The phrase appeared whenever people wanted something.
Usually something expensive.
Occasionally something unethical.
Sometimes both.
Ethan folded his arms.
"What specifically?"
A board member named Howard answered.
"The market is nervous."
Ethan stared.
"The market is always nervous."
Howard ignored the comment.
"Election uncertainty."
"Global competition."
"Technology regulation."
The list continued.
Ethan listened patiently.
Mostly because interrupting wouldn't change anything.
Eventually Richard leaned forward.
"The company needs stability."
There it was.
The actual point.
Ethan could feel it approaching.
Like a storm gathering on the horizon.
The problem was that he still didn't know where this conversation was heading.
And that usually meant it was worse than expected.
"The company is stable."
Richard hesitated.
Not a good sign.
"The company is financially stable."
A distinction.
Interesting.
Ethan's irritation deepened.
"Explain."
Several uncomfortable seconds passed.
Then Howard spoke.
"Perception matters."
The answer immediately annoyed him.
Because it wasn't entirely wrong.
Wall Street ran on perception almost as much as performance.
Unfortunately.
Investors loved certainty.
Predictability.
Traditional narratives.
They liked CEOs who appeared reliable.
Disciplined.
Safe.
Which meant Ethan already knew what topic was coming next.
Even before anyone mentioned it.
"You're forty years old."
Richard's voice sounded careful.
Too careful.
"You've never married."
There it was.
The room suddenly felt colder.
Ethan's expression hardened immediately.
The board members noticed.
Unfortunately, none seemed willing to retreat.
Howard continued.
"The media asks questions."
"Let them."
Richard sighed.
"Investors ask questions."
"Let them."
"The answers affect confidence."
The statement hung heavily in the air.
For the first time, genuine anger surfaced.
Not explosive anger.
Controlled anger.
The dangerous kind.
The kind Ethan rarely showed.
"My personal life isn't company business."
Nobody responded immediately.
Which told him everything.
Because if they disagreed, they would've said so.
Instead, they exchanged looks.
Careful looks.
Calculated looks.
The sort politicians shared before delivering bad news.
Richard finally spoke.
"We aren't questioning your leadership."
The reassurance sounded hollow.
"We're discussing optics."
Ethan almost laughed.
Corporate language was remarkable.
People could wrap almost any insult inside the word optics.
The result remained insulting.
"Get to the point."
The command cut through the room sharply.
Richard exhaled slowly.
Then looked toward the doorway.
A second later, the door opened.
And Sophia Caldwell walked inside.
Ethan's stomach immediately dropped.
Because suddenly he understood.
Completely.
Every piece clicked into place.
The gala.
The photographs.
The introductions.
The carefully orchestrated appearances.
All of it.
Sophia looked almost as uncomfortable as he felt.
Which provided exactly zero comfort.
The door closed behind her.
Silence followed.
Heavy.
Tense.
Unavoidable.
Nobody seemed eager to say it aloud.
Eventually Richard volunteered.
"People respond well to Sophia."
Ethan stared.
Nobody continued.
Apparently they expected him to fill in the rest.
Unfortunately for them, he already had.
And he hated it.
"No."
The word arrived instantly.
Before anyone officially proposed anything.
Before details emerged.
Before discussions began.
Just no.
Howard looked frustrated.
"We haven't explained."
"You don't need to."
The silence deepened.
Sophia looked away.
Apparently she hated this conversation too.
At least there was that.
Richard rubbed his forehead.
"The company needs a positive narrative."
"No."
"A stable narrative."
"No."
"A public narrative."
"No."
The repeated answers echoed through the room.
Each one colder than the last.
Each one more certain.
Ethan felt fury building beneath the surface.
Not because they wanted something.
People always wanted something.
Because they thought this was acceptable.
Because they thought his life existed as a corporate asset.
A tool.
A marketing strategy.
An investment vehicle.
The realization disgusted him.
Howard leaned forward.
"This would help everyone."
The statement nearly made Ethan laugh.
Everyone.
Interesting choice of words.
Because nobody had asked what he wanted.
Nobody had asked what Sophia wanted.
The entire conversation revolved around shareholders.
Numbers.
Public perception.
Everything except actual human beings.
Ethan looked toward Sophia.
"For the record, this is ridiculous."
A faint smile appeared.
Briefly.
"I agree."
The answer surprised several board members.
Good.
They deserved to be surprised.
Richard looked exhausted.
"Nobody's asking for marriage."
The clarification somehow made things worse.
"A public relationship."
"A few appearances."
"A few events."
"A little speculation."
The words sounded increasingly absurd.
As though pretending made the idea reasonable.
Ethan's patience finally disappeared.
"You want me to fake a relationship."
Nobody corrected him.
Which confirmed everything.
The room fell silent.
Outside the conference room, the gala continued.
Music drifted faintly through the walls.
Laughter.
Conversations.
Normal life.
Meanwhile, inside this room, his board was attempting to turn his personal life into a strategic initiative.
The irony would've been amusing if it wasn't so insulting.
Then Richard delivered the final blow.
The one that truly transformed irritation into anger.
"The market would respond positively."
Ethan thought of Oliver.
Immediately.
Instinctively.
The image appeared without invitation.
Oliver laughing in the kitchen.
Oliver in Boston.
Oliver curled beside him late at night.
Oliver trusting him.
The memory hit with startling force.
Because suddenly this wasn't theoretical anymore.
This wasn't simply annoying.
It was personal.
Deeply personal.
The board didn't know about Oliver.
Didn't know about the relationship.
Didn't know about the man currently changing Ethan's life.
Yet somehow they were threatening it anyway.
The realization felt dangerous.
Very dangerous.
Richard mistook his silence for consideration.
A mistake.
"We're asking you to think about it."
Ethan looked around the room.
At the investors.
At the board.
At the people who believed everything had a price.
Even this.
Especially this.
Then he stood.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
The movement immediately captured everyone's attention.
Good.
They needed to hear this clearly.
"I'm not making any decisions tonight."
The statement sounded calm.
Measured.
Controlled.
Years of executive leadership keeping his anger firmly contained.
Richard nodded cautiously.
Apparently encouraged.
That was another mistake.
Because Ethan wasn't agreeing.
Not even close.
He was simply leaving before he said something irreversible.
Without another word, he turned and walked toward the door.
The room remained silent.
Nobody attempted to stop him.
Nobody attempted to follow.
As the door closed behind him, one thought echoed relentlessly through his mind.
The board had just placed him in an impossible position.
Because for the first time in years, there was something in his life he wasn't willing to sacrifice for the company.
And his name was Oliver Bennett.
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