Chapter 12 - The Ghost from the Financial DistrictWhile Clare’s empire soared into the stratosphere, the ground beneath Ethan Cole’s feet had completely crumbled.
Stripped of his savings during the messy asset division, passed over for partnership at his consulting firm, and abandoned by everyone who had once tolerated his arrogance, Ethan had taken a low-level mid-management position at a struggling logistics firm on the far west side of Manhattan.
He no longer wore tailored Italian suits. His clothes came off the rack at department stores, smelling faintly of stale dry cleaning and subway exhaust.
On a rainy Thursday afternoon, Ethan was sent downtown to deliver a stack of physical contract revisions to a commercial real estate office near Wall Street.
As he stepped out of the elevator on the thirty-fourth floor, he accidentally bumped into a well-dressed executive carrying a leather briefcase.
"Watch it," a sharp, familiar voice snapped.
Ethan froze. He looked up.
It was David Vance, one of the senior managing partners from the firm where Ethan had once believed he was destined for the corner office.
"David?" Ethan stammered, his face flushing crimson. "I... I didn't see you."
David stopped, looking down at Ethan with an expression that combined profound pity with absolute disdain. "Sterling? No, wait... Cole. Right. I heard about your little domestic explosion a couple of years back. Rough break, losing the company partnership and your wife all in the same week."
"I didn't lose—" Ethan started, but his voice cracked.
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"Listen, Cole," David interrupted coldly, checking his gold-plated watch. "We’re working with Bellweather Journeys on our corporate restructuring retreat next month. Do you know who owns Bellweather now? Clare Bennett. She turned a two-person boutique into a multi-million-dollar empire while you were busy trading down your life."
David didn't wait for a response. He stepped around Ethan, the glass doors sliding shut behind him as he vanished into a world Ethan could no longer touch.
