Chapter 141 A Hero’s Duty

Ethan's POV

Five-thirty sharp. The document on my screen closed with a click as I stood, straightening my tie with practiced precision. Punctuality runs in my blood – one of Grandmother Emma's non-negotiable lessons. Even Blackwood money can't buy back wasted time.

Amanda Davis sat watching me, those eyes seeing too much. Something about her gaze unsettled me.

"It's time," I said simply. Words cost too.

She followed me out silently. Staff eyes tracked our movement, no doubt feeding tomorrow's gossip mill. Their opinions meant nothing to the Blackwood name.

"The Plaza?" she asked as we reached my car.

A curt nod served as response. "Sterling's choice."

Evening traffic parted before my car. Amanda studied my profile in the passenger window reflection.

The moment I entered Sterling's chosen restaurant, I inwardly recoiled. Red roses on every table, violin music drifting through the air, and candlelight creating intimate shadows everywhere. Too romantic by half for meeting someone new.

The waiter's assumption about a "Valentine's special" only confirmed my suspicions. This setting was all wrong, yet sitting across from me, Amanda maintained a carefully neutral expression. The candlelight caught her auburn hair, highlighting features that stirred something unexpectedly deep within me.

A powerful sense of déjà vu washed over me. Something about her seemed familiar in a way I couldn't place, as if we'd known each other in another life.

Six o'clock passed. No Sophia. My index finger tapped against pristine tablecloth – an unbreakable habit when irritation builds. Each tap marked seconds wasted.

Thirty minutes gone. Sterling knows better.

The door swung open at six-thirty. Sophia Sterling entered, her dress tastefully fitted, practiced smile revealing too-perfect teeth.

"Ethan, so sorry about the delay," she began, words dying as Amanda registered in her field of vision.

"Thirty minutes late," I noted, gesturing toward my watch. Patek Philippe never lies.

Her smile faltered. "Left on time, but—"

"Same direction as mine," I cut in, my tone shifting to the quiet intensity that unnerves even the most confident executives. "No traffic."

I could see her mind racing – searching for a convincing explanation.

"My fault entirely," she conceded, fingers touching my arm, lingering inappropriately. "Fell and dirtied my clothes. Had to change."

The urge to remove her hand proved almost overwhelming. Blackwood needed Sterling's distribution network, but patience had limits.

Our drinks arrived, momentarily breaking tension. Sophia finally looked at Amanda.

The hostility in Sophia's eyes revealed everything. She resented Amanda's presence, wondering why I'd dare bring someone she clearly despised.

I explained Amanda's role mechanically, hiding my discomfort. "Amanda Davis, also Sarah Hope. Her expertise benefits our medical equipment partnership."

My words felt hollow, a professional shield against the emotional undercurrent threatening our meeting.

Sophia's narrowed eyes conveyed her skepticism.

Amanda tensed beside me. Her rigid posture betrayed her distress.

I retreated to business, my only safe harbor. My rapid-fire questions about manufacturers, projections, and progress with Weill Cornell Medicine served as both distraction and strategic offensive.

Satisfaction bloomed as I watched Sophia's confidence visibly crumble. Her unprepared expression confirmed I'd regained control of the situation, at least temporarily.

"Could we eat first? Talk business after?" Her suggestion sounded desperate.

Patience snapped. "As partnership lead, surely these basics are known?"

"Everything happened suddenly," she stammered, napkin twisted between fingers. "New to this industry."

Amateur hour. Playing social games while empire-building requires focus.

Standing abruptly ended this charade. "Next time, come prepared for actual business. No time for games."

Amanda followed silently toward the exit. Behind us, chair legs scraped against hardwood. Hurried footsteps approached. Sophia caught Amanda's arm near the door, whispering harshly.

Waiting by the entrance, something about Amanda's composure impressed me. Most crumbled under Sterling pressure – she stood unwavering.

When she approached, unshed tears glistened. A protective instinct surged unexpectedly.

"Get in. Driving you home," I said, opening the passenger door.

"Were you waiting?" Surprise colored her question.

Hands tightened around leather steering. "You saved Emma's life. And mine. Can't leave a woman alone at night."

Driving through darkness, her reflection showed silent tears tracing paths down cheeks. An inexplicable urge to comfort her rose within. Instead, knuckles whitened around the wheel, eyes focused forward.

Why does her pain affect me? Just another doctor. Another associate. Nothing special.

The lie tasted bitter.

A week passed before calling her to my office again. Sterling meeting rescheduled, this time with actual business representation. Amanda chatted with secretaries who scattered when I appeared.

"Come tonight," I said without preamble. She nodded without questions. The immediate understanding raised more questions than it answered. Who was this woman who seemed to read me without words?

Six sharp found us at a proper business establishment – clean lines, appropriate lighting, professional atmosphere. Sophia waited inside with a middle-aged man introduced as operations manager.

Business proceeded efficiently until a brief absence. Returning, Sophia had disappeared too. Amanda looked uncomfortable, trapped with the manager who kept checking his watch.

Following instinct led me toward restrooms. There stood Sophia, cornered by a heavyset man speaking crudely. She slapped him hard. His hand raised in retaliation.

Movement came without thought. Caught his arm mid-descent.

"Who the hell?" Alcohol fumes accompanied his threat. "Mind your business."

"Leave." One word. Flat. Final.

Drunken bravado continued until increased pressure produced that satisfying crack. Knees hit floor. Curses followed hasty retreat.

Sophia clutched my arm immediately, tears appearing on cue. "Thank you! So scared..."

"Cameras everywhere," observed coolly while stepping back. "Foolish attempt."

Something made me pause at the corner after turning away. Tears vanished from Sophia's face, replaced by satisfaction while fingers danced across phone screen. Money transferred to unknown recipient.

Pieces clicked into place. A setup. Juvenile attempt to cast herself as victim with me as designated savior. Disappointingly transparent.

Did she truly believe such obvious manipulation would work? Corporate takeovers required more subtlety than this pathetic attempt.

Disgust rose like bile. Manipulation came standard in Blackwood circles – but execution required skill. This amateur production bordered on insulting.

Amanda waited in the car, her straightforward presence refreshing after suffocating schemes.