Chapter 113 Chapter 113
Chapter 113
The call came just after noon.
Ethan was reviewing documents when his phone vibrated once on the desk. He glanced at the screen. Security.
He didn’t answer immediately. He already knew something was wrong. They never called him directly unless it mattered.
He picked up.
“Yes?”
“We need a moment of your time, sir,” the head of security said. His voice was careful. “Privately.”
Ethan stood without replying. He walked past the desks, past Celine, who was focused on her screen, unaware of what was about to change. He didn’t look at her. He didn’t trust himself to.
Inside the small conference room, the door closed softly behind him.
“What happened?” Ethan asked.
The security head placed a tablet on the table and slid it forward. “Someone tried accessing personal records tied to Miss Celine.”
Ethan didn’t move.
“Personal how?” he asked.
“Home address. Emergency contact. Previous employment. Phone number.”
Ethan’s jaw tightened. “From where?”
“A proxy request. Third party.” He paused. “Different name this time.”
Ethan finally looked up.
“Say it.”
The man hesitated. “The pattern matches earlier attempts. Same routing style. Same delays. Same pressure tactics.”
Amelia.
She was no longer circling the office. She had moved closer. Too close.
“She didn’t ask about work,” Ethan said slowly.
“No, sir.”
“She didn’t ask about schedules.”
“No.”
“She asked about her.”
“Yes.”
The room went quiet. Not tense. Not dramatic. Just sharp.
Ethan leaned back in his chair and stared at the wall. His mind moved fast, but his face stayed calm. He had spent years mastering that.
“How did they get past the first block?” he asked.
“They didn’t,” the security head replied. “They tried. Multiple times. Different angles. Different excuses. Claimed legal interest. Claimed partnership. Claimed family connection.”
Ethan let out a short breath through his nose. Amelia always adapted. When one door closed, she knocked on another. When knocking failed, she forced her way through.
“She’s escalating,” Ethan said.
“Yes, sir.”
Ethan stood.
“From now on,” he said quietly, “no requests tied to Celine go through anyone but me. Not HR. Not management. Not legal. Me.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And increase monitoring. Not just the gates. Digital access. Email patterns. Visitor logs.”
The security head nodded. “Already started.”
Ethan turned toward the door, then stopped.
“Did Celine know?”
“No.”
“Good,” Ethan said. “Keep it that way.”
He left the room without another word.
Back outside, the office felt the same. Phones ringing. Soft typing. Low conversations. Normal.
Too normal.
Celine sat at her desk, working through a spreadsheet. She hadn’t noticed him leave. She didn’t notice him return either.
Ethan watched her from where he stood.
She looked tired.
Not physically. Emotionally. Her shoulders weren’t tense, but they weren’t relaxed either. She moved through her tasks like someone trying not to think too much.
And he knew exactly why.
Distance.
He had created it.
And it wasn’t working.
He felt it in his chest—tight, nagging, the way guilt feels when you know you’re hurting someone you care about but you keep doing it anyway. He had told himself it was for her safety. That if he pulled back, Amelia would lose interest. That no visible connection meant no target.
But he had been wrong.
And the wrongness sat heavy on him now, not loud, not explosive, just persistent. Like a low hum he couldn’t turn off.
He walked past her desk again, slower this time.
She kept typing. Didn’t look up.
He stopped.
“Send me the updated report by three,” he said.
“Okay,” she replied without looking up.
No extra words. No pause.
He walked away.
Celine stared at her screen after he left. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, unmoving.
That was it?
She swallowed and forced herself back into work.
He wasn’t rude. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t unkind.
He was distant.
And somehow, that hurt more.
She hated how much it bothered her. She hated that she noticed every time he passed without stopping. She hated that she kept waiting for him to say something—anything—more than work instructions. She hated that she still cared.
She told herself it didn’t matter.
She told herself she was overthinking.
But the truth was quieter, harder to ignore.
She missed the way he used to look at her.
Not the boss look. The other one. The one that made her feel seen.
Now he looked past her.
And it stung in small, constant ways.
Later that afternoon, Ethan stood in his office again, phone in hand.
He didn’t want to call Amelia.
That was the problem.
He knew exactly what she wanted. A reaction. A response. Proof she still had access to his emotions.
He wasn’t going to give her that.
Instead, he made a different call.
“Trace the proxy,” he said when the line connected.
“It’ll take time,” the voice replied.
“I know,” Ethan said. “Take it.”
He ended the call and leaned back in his chair.
He had convinced himself distance would protect Celine. That if he stepped away, Amelia would lose interest. That no visible connection meant no reason to dig.
He had been wrong.
Distance hadn’t erased Celine from Amelia’s radar.
It had highlighted her.
Ethan clenched his jaw.
He wasn’t angry in the way people expected anger to look. There was no shouting. No slammed doors.
Just clarity.
And resolve.
He felt the guilt again—sharper this time. He had pushed Celine away to keep her safe, and all he had done was make her a bigger target. He had left her exposed while trying to shield her.
That realization sat like a stone in his stomach.
He looked toward the door.
Toward her desk.
She was still there, working.
He wanted to go out there. To tell her everything. To explain why he’d been cold. To say he was sorry.
But he didn’t.
Not yet.
Because saying it now would only put her in the middle of something uglier.
So he stayed in his office.
And hated every second of it.
Celine packed her bag at the end of the day without waiting for anyone.
She didn’t look toward Ethan’s office. She didn’t slow down. She didn’t hesitate.
She walked out like nothing mattered.
Outside, the ride home felt longer than usual. She stared out the window, replaying moments she didn’t want to admit meant something to her.
The way he used to ask if she’d eaten.
The way he’d pause when she spoke, actually listening.
The way his presence used to feel steady.
Now it felt absent.
When she got home, she dropped her bag and sat on the edge of the bed.
She checked her phone.
Nothing.
No message.
No missed call.
She stared at the screen longer than she should have.
Why did she expect anything?
She shook her head and placed the phone face down.
Ethan sat alone later that night, the city quiet beyond his windows.
He picked up his phone. Scrolled to Celine’s name. Stopped.
Typed.
Deleted.
Typed again.
Deleted again.
Staying away was supposed to keep her safe.
But someone had already crossed the line.
He set the phone down slowly.
“No more hiding,” he said to the empty room.
Distance wasn’t protection.
Action was.
And this time, he wasn’t waiting for Amelia to make the next move.
He felt the shift inside him—small but certain.
He wasn’t going to let her become collateral.
Not anymore.
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor.
Tomorrow he would change things.
Tomorrow he would close the gap he had created.
Tomorrow he would stop pretending distance was strength.
Because strength wasn’t silenc
e.
Strength was showing up.
Even when it scared him.
Even when it risked everything.
He stood up.
Walked to the window.
Looked at the city lights.
And made up his mind.
No more distance.
No more waiting.
He was going to protect her.
The way he should have from the beginning.