Chapter Three: Skeletons in Suits

By the time Ethan returned to the office, the war room was already alive.

Jenna stood at the center like a general, issuing quiet orders to a small team of PR reps and legal advisors. The room smelled faintly of stress and burnt coffee. On the wall, a live feed of the news played on mute—Ethan’s name now crawling across the ticker beneath talking heads dissecting the lawsuit.

He didn’t pause. “What do we know?”

Jenna turned, tablet in hand. “The filing dropped early this morning in Delaware. Cray’s team claims he was defrauded during the 2017 buyout—alleging you undervalued the company and withheld IP valuation reports.”

Ethan’s voice was even, but his jaw locked. “We had a contract. He signed off on everything.”

“Yes. But it’s the optics. They’re positioning him as the wronged co-founder. Media loves that story—David versus Goliath.”

A younger staffer, nervous, chimed in. “There’s also a whistleblower hint mentioned in the documents. Cray might have someone inside.”

Ethan’s mind sharpened. Inside. That meant betrayal—or manipulation. And that narrowed the field.

He turned to Jenna. “I want every version of the 2017 financials re-audited. Full trace. Pull emails, messages—anything with Cray’s name. No redactions. And bring in Alan Quinn.”

Jenna raised an eyebrow. “The crisis lawyer?”

“Yeah. If Cray wants a war, he’s going to get one.”

She nodded and left the room, already texting.

Ethan sank into a chair, finally alone. His eyes drifted to the skyline. The WardTech tower was just visible from here, clean and proud. Everything he’d built. And now Cray wanted to drag it through the mud.

But Ethan hadn’t cheated anyone. Not even Martin Cray—especially not him. Cray had been the ideas guy, but Ethan was the one who had worked eighty-hour weeks to build their prototype, the one who cold-called warehouses and delivery routes, the one who slept in his car during year one just to make payroll.

Yet… there had been a moment.

A meeting in a coffee shop.

Cray had wanted more—too much—and Ethan had pushed back hard. There had been shouting. Threats. Then silence.

Had Cray really waited eight years to make his move?

The door opened again.

It was Ava, Ethan’s ex-wife. She never visited the office. Not unless it was about Daniel.

“What’s wrong?” he asked instantly, standing.

She held up a phone. “I just got a call from a reporter. They tried asking Daniel questions outside school.”

Ethan’s expression darkened. “What?”

“They wanted to know if ‘his dad taught him how to lie,’ Ethan.”

His fists clenched. “I’ll handle it. No one goes near him again. I swear.”

Ava looked at him for a long moment. Her voice softened. “You always said the past wouldn’t catch up to you.”