Chapter 8 - The Morning LightThe sun rose over Columbus the next morning in a brilliant wash of amber and gold, washing clean the gray slate of the city streets.
At 8:45 AM, I stepped out of the private elevator of Bennett Tower, walking with calm, deliberate steps toward the subterranean parking garage where my driver was waiting. My mother was already seated in the back of the town car, nervously smoothing down the fabric of her floral dress.
"Are you sure you don't want me to come into the examination room with you?" my mother asked for the third time that morning, her eyes shining with maternal anxiety. "The doctor said—"
"Mom, I promise, I'm completely fine," I laughed softly, sliding in beside her and resting my hand over hers. "It's just a routine final checkup before the due date next week. Everything is stable."
The car glided out of the underground garage and into the crisp morning air, heading toward the private medical center on the north side of the city.
As we stopped at a red light near the financial district, my eyes drifted casually toward the digital billboard mounted on the side of a towering glass-and-steel building across the street.
It was the headquarters of a major local media network.
A breaking news headline flashed across the screen in bold letters:
EX-TECH CEO ETHAN CARTER INDICTED ON FEDERAL FRAUD AND EMBEZZLEMENT CHARGES; FACES UP TO TWENTY YEARS IN PRISON.
Beneath the headline, a grainy photograph flashed on screen.
It was Ethan—captured by a paparazzi lens as he stumbled out of a cheap motel on the outskirts of the city, unshaven, wearing a rumpled gray hoodie, shielding his face from the camera glare with a trembling hand.
The mighty titan of Ohio tech, reduced to a fugitive of his own making.
My mother caught sight of the screen, let out a quiet, melancholy sigh, and shook her head. "To think... just a month ago, he thought he was the king of the world."
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"Pride always precedes the fall, Mom," I said quietly, turning my gaze away from the billboard and looking out the other window as the car moved forward. "Some people spend their whole lives building a crown out of glass. They shouldn't be surprised when the first real storm shatters it."
The car turned down a quiet, tree-lined avenue, leaving the noise, the cameras, and the ghosts of the past far behind.
