Chapter 9: Meeting of Shadows.

Alex was adjusting his cufflinks while staring out of Ethan's office window at the glittering metropolitan skyline in the late afternoon light. In sharp contrast to the intense tension building in the room, the expansive metropolis below was teeming with activity. Alex liked to think that Ethan's office, with its sleek gray colors and simple design, reflected the man's coldness and detachment.

Ethan came in with two whiskey glasses. After giving Alex one, he took a seat across from him. Ethan reclined back, his posture relaxed but his eyes alert, in contrast to Alex's erect posture.

"We need to talk," Alex opened with a clipped, business like voice.

"We always do," Ethan answered, swirling his glass. "What's so urgent this time?"

Upon hearing it, Alex stopped short, the jaws clenching tight. "It's about Sophie."

No change passed over Ethan's face but there was a flicker in his eyes-perhaps it was interest; perhaps it was concern. "Go on."

"She is not who she claims to be," leaning forward said Alex, "Sophie Clarke is the daughter of Richard Clarke."

Ethan remained silent with his fingers tapping against the glass.

"I did some digging," Alex continued with the sharpness of his voice. "She didn't just directly walk into your life, Ethan. She sought you out. She's here for revenge-for what we did to her father."

Ethan kept his glass on the table deliberately. "And what exactly did we do, Alex?"

Alex's lip curled. "Don't play dumb. You know exactly what I mean. Clarke Holdings. The hostile takeover. The downfall of his whole empire."

Sighing, Ethan rubbed his hand in his hair. "That was years ago."

"Yes," reiterated Alex coldly, "but Sophie has not forgotten. She blames us for her father's downfall, his heart attack, and eventual death, and she is going to punish you for it."

Neither man spoke for a moment, and the unspoken words hung in the air for a long time after words had been spoken.

"I'm not surprised," Ethan said finally, barely above a whisper.

"What do you mean, not surprised?" frowning, Alex shot back.

"Well, I've kind of suspected it for a little while now," Ethan revealed. "The way she looks at me sometimes when asking questions. Like she's trying to decide whether to hate me or... something else."

With a bang, Alex's glass hit the table, and the sound reverberated throughout the room. "And you thought to do nothing about it?"

"What do you want me to do?" snapped Ethan, his calm exterior cracking beneath the strain. "Confront her? Accuse her without proof? Throw her out without knowing the reason behind her actions?"

Alex leaned closer, squinting. "She is dangerous, Ethan. If she intends to take revenge, she can ruin all that we have built."

Ethan smiled. "Or we could try to make amends."

Alex let forth a laugh, husky and without humor. "Make amends? With her? After what we did to her family?"

Ethan's jaw tightened. "We did not destroy Clarke Holdings for fun, Alex. It was business. A calculated move. But perhaps we went too far. Maybe it's time to acknowledge that."

Alex's eyes flashed. "Don't get soft on me now. We did what we had to do. Richard Clarke was a threat, and we eliminated him. End of story."

"No," Ethan said, voice steady but firm. "Not end. We didn't just take out a threat. We destroyed a man. A family. And his daughter stands in front of us to remind us of what we have done."

Alex shook his head. "You're letting guilt cloud your judgment. Sophie is not some innocent victim. She is just as manipulative as her father was. She's here to play you, Ethan."

"Maybe," Ethan admitted. "Or maybe she's just trying to survive in a world we forced her into."

Two locked stares clashed and for a moment the air electrified with tension.

"So what is your plan?" Alex finally asked, his drawl thick with sarcasm. "Keeping her? Pretending to offer her a job, then handing her a check and hoping that would make it right?"

Ethan's gaze didn't waver. "If that's what it takes to make things right, then yes."

Alex snorted. "This is delusional aloofness."

"Is it?" Ethan shot back. "Or are you just being too cowardly to face the consequences of your actions?"

Alex's visage darkened. He said, "Watch it, Ethan. You may be the mouthpiece of this operation, but don't forget who built it. Who made the tough calls while you played the charming front-man."

"And don't forget," Ethan said, his voice low and dangerous, "who brought in the clients. Who negotiated the deals. Who made sure your 'tough calls' didn't blow up in our faces."

The room became silent again, for it bore all the heavy weight of history they shared.

"She deserves compensation," Alex finally said, coldly. "Pay her off and send her back home. Cleanest way to handle this."

"No," Ethan said firmly. "She deserves more than dead money. She deserves a chance to rebuild her world, her imagination, her wishes, unhindered by our dictates."

Shaking his head bitterly smiling Alex said, "She gets under your skin. She is already winning."

"This isn't a game, Alex," Ethan said quietly. "Not anymore."

 Alex stood, straightening his jacket. "You're making a mistake. But if you want to handle this your way, fine. Just don't come crying to me when it all blows up in your face."

He turned and walked toward the door, pausing with his hand on the handle. "One way or another, we need to deal with this. Don't drag it out."

With that, he left, the door clicking shut behind him.

Ethan remained seated, staring at the empty chair across from him. He then took a glass, and downed it in one long swig; the burning whiskey coursed down his throat.

He imagined Sophie, whose sharp barked wit, divided by guarded smiles, was braided in the pain she fought so hard to conceal.

Alex had one thing absolutely right: such a thing couldn't last forever. But, as with so many things, Ethan wasn't sure he could deliver what Alex desired.

Not this time.

As the sun fell lower on the horizon, long shadows danced throughout the room. Ethan sat in silence, the weight of his decisions pressing down on him like the encroaching darkness.

Lines in the Sand

Ethan watched the lights of the city spring joyously to life from the penthouse balcony. The whiskey remained untouched in his glass, melting the ice that dropped lazily within. Alex kept saying, she is already winning.

To Ethan, it was not a game now; it had never been. Sophie was no enemy, not like she was to Alex. She was tougher than that; she had rolled into Ethan's life like a storm and left him questioning everything he thought to know about himself.

The chiming of the elevator interrupted his thoughts. A moment later, Sophie stepped into the living area, heels clicking sharply against the floor of polished marble. Clad effortlessly in simple elegance, her hair cascaded in soft waves over her shoulders. Ethan turned toward her, expressionlessly.

"Well, I didn't expect to see you tonight," she said, a few feet away. Her voice was even; her eyes betrayed a flicker of uncertainty. "But your voice sounded so urgent on the phone."

"I thought it was about time we had a talk," he responded while gesturing toward the plush sofa.

Sophie paused a tick too long before seating herself, crossing her legs, and folding her hands on her lap. "This sounds serious," she stated.

"It is," he answered, taking a seat across from her.

The long pause sat heavily before them, crammed with unsaid truths.

"I know who you are, Sophie," Ethan finally stated. "And I know why you are here."

Her eyes widened, then she shut them as fast as a camera shutter. With steady neutrality, she replied, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't," Ethan said, unable to keep his voice from being a little hard but not unkind. "Don't lie to me. Not again."

Sophie's shoulders stiffened; for a moment, Ethan thought she was going to run. Then she exhaled softly, and her body went a little slack.

"So you do know," she mumbled. "About my father. About Clarke Holdings."

Ethan nodded. "Alex told me everything."

Tightness crept into Sophie's jaw, fingers clutching into fists. "So, I guess you are asking me to get lost now."

"No," he said, surprising her. "I am not."

"Why not?" She glared. "Isn't that what men like you do? Ruin lives and hide the remains?"

He flinched but kept his gaze steady. "I won't deny the wrongs done to your father. What we did to him. But it was not that simple, Sophie."

Sophie scoffed. "Oh, please, save me the hollow justifications."

"What I said is no justification," he argued, just as firmly. "It is the truth. Your father was no innocent victim. He made some big enemies. He took some pretty risky actions that backfired. Alex and I didn't set out to take him down, but when the opportunity arose..."

"You took it," Sophie finished bitterly.

Ethan nodded. "We sure did. And I regret it."

Him saying that seemed to put her off-balance. For a moment, she didn't know how to respond.

"Why would you tell me that?" she demanded.

"Because I don't want to lie to you anymore." he said. "And I want to make it right."

Sophie let out a harsh laugh. It sounded brittle to her own ears. "Make it right? You think you can just wave your magic wand and fix everything? My father is dead, Ethan. My family is gone."

"I know," he said in a low voice, "and I cannot change that. But I can help you rebuild. I can help give you a chance to start again."

The laughter disappeared from her lips, replaced by interrogative skepticism. "And why would you do that?"

"Because I care about you," Ethan said, his voice containing the raw tremors of unshed tears. "More than I ever thought I could. And because I'm tired of running from my mistakes."

Sophie stared. The thoughts were racing in her mind now. She wanted to believe him, but his stab wounds were too deep and fresh.

"You destroyed my family," she murmured. "How do I forgive that?"

"I don't know," he replied. "But I am willing to take the rest of my life trying to earn it. 

It was too much, the rasp in his voice, the sincerity in his eyes. Sophie's defenses began to splinter, the walls around her heart crumbling into ruins under the sheer weight of his words.

But she wasn't ready to give in. Not yet.

"I need time." Her voice trembled. "I can't just...I need time."

"Take all the time you need," he said steadily. "I am not going anywhere. 

She rose stiffly, like a marionette whose strings were pulled too tight. "I should go. 

He said nothing to her, watching as she strode toward the elevator, shoulders squared but steps wavering.

As the doors slid closed behind her, Ethan sank into the sofa as if the weight of the conversation had suddenly compressed him. He had taken the first step, but he was fully aware that this path would stretch for miles and present a multitude of challenges.

Sophie walked the floor of her apartment while the torrent of conflicting emotions hammered in her brain. Ethan's confession had sent her reeling; she did not even know what to feel or how to react.

For years, she had clung to her anger, her desire for revenge. It had been her pen shield, her armor. But now... now she was beginning to wonder whether she even could keep carrying it.

She thought of her father—his laughter, his ambitions, his flaws. He was good, but good is not enough. Ethan's words had cut through the back of her mind: Your father wasn't an innocent victim. He made enemies—big ones.

It had to be true. But how far had her father really played a role in what happened to him?

The mere thought wretched in her stomach, but that was a thought she couldn't ignore. She needed answers. And she needed to figure out what she wanted—what she really, truly wanted.

Sophie melted down onto the couch, her forehead in her hands. She had rolled in and out of Ethan's life with one goal: to make him pay for what he had done. But things had changed somewhere along the way. She had changed.

And now, she was unsure if she could go through with it.

The morning after, Ethan sat at his desk, eyes scanning properties on a list on his laptop. His mind was made up.

He would give Sophie space if she needed it. However, he refused to let her leave without demonstrating to her that he was sincere about making things right.

He looked at the screen as his phone buzzed. It was his helper.

"Next week, the Tuscan villa is available," she stated. "Should I make a reservation?"

Ethan said without hesitation, "Yes." And ensure that everything is flawless. I'll take care of the rest.

A tiny smile flickered at the corners of his lips as he hung up. The next step has to be taken.

It was time to prove to Sophie that he meant all he had said.