The elevator ride to the 42nd floor of the Solaris Building was silent, save for the soft hum of fluorescent lights and the faint tap of Ethan’s leather shoe against the polished floor. He glanced at his reflection in the chrome panel—sharp suit, sharper eyes. He didn’t dress to impress anymore; he dressed like armor. Because in business, appearance was half the battle.
The pitch meeting was at 12:00 sharp, but Ethan was early. Always was. It wasn’t about control—it was about respect. You don’t ask someone for millions of dollars and show up two minutes late.
Jenna greeted him at the boardroom with a tablet in hand and a crease between her brows.
“They moved it up to 11:30,” she said under her breath. “Tom Ritter’s assistant called in the change fifteen minutes ago.”
Ethan’s jaw tightened. “Let them know I’m ready.”
Inside, three men in tailored suits sat at the long glass table. They looked the part—expensive watches, haircuts that cost more than his first car. But Ethan had seen their kind before: the VC wolves, circling for a piece of his blood, masked behind smiles and thinly veiled condescension.
“Mr. Ward,” Tom Ritter said as Ethan entered. “We’ve been looking forward to this.”
“Likewise,” Ethan replied. He placed his tablet down, opened the deck, and got straight to it. No pleasantries. No fluff.
He laid out the vision: a scalable logistics platform built with adaptive AI, already profitable, with 300% year-over-year growth. No debt. No scandals. No gimmicks.
Ritter leaned back. “Impressive numbers. But tell me—how long do you think this momentum can last?”
“As long as the infrastructure is sound,” Ethan said. “Which it is.”
“And the leadership?” Ritter’s tone was mild, but Ethan heard the subtext: Are you the guy to take this all the way?
“I built it. I know its bones.”
Tom exchanged a glance with the man beside him, a younger partner whose grin never reached his eyes. “There’s one concern we have—your refusal to offshore operations. Investors like to see cost-cutting, and frankly, your domestic model is… expensive.”
Ethan didn’t flinch. “It’s also reliable. Our warehouses run at 98% efficiency. Our turnover is under 12%. You can’t buy loyalty with layoffs.”
There was a pause—long and heavy. Then Tom smiled thinly. “Well, that’s admirable. But admirable doesn’t always scale.”
“Neither does short-sighted greed,” Ethan said, before he could stop himself.
Jenna winced.
The meeting ended politely. Too politely.
As Ethan and Jenna stepped into the elevator, she said, “You knew they weren’t going to bite.”
“Didn’t need them to,” he muttered. “I just needed to know if I was still playing by the right rules.”
She nodded, then hesitated. “You may want to take a look at this.”
She handed him her tablet. A breaking news headline lit the screen:
Former Partner at WardTech Files Lawsuit Alleging Fraudulent Practices
Ethan’s stomach dropped.
The name beneath the headline: Martin Cray.
A name from a chapter he thought was closed. A name tied to mistakes made years ago—back when WardTech was just an idea on a napkin and Ethan was too hungry to read every clause in every deal.
He stared at the screen, silent.
Because in business, numbers didn’t lie.
But people did.
And now, Ethan Ward’s past was knocking—and it wasn’t asking for a meeting.
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