The image was absurd—a brilliant engineer hidden behind a cleaning uniform. Victor voiced what everyone was thinking.
“Why?”
“They accused her of fraud after a project failed,” Ethan explained. “She couldn’t prove her innocence. They revoked her license. Blacklisted her.”
Richard sank into his chair, as if the air had been knocked out of him.
Ethan continued calmly, like someone who had repeated this story enough times to survive it.
“She’s sick. Her medicine costs five thousand a month. I heard you in the elevator saying you’d pay anything to solve this. I… I could do it.”
In that moment, the luxury of the room felt obscene.
Five thousand.
Richard spent that on a single dinner.
And a child had endured public humiliation for a number that, to them, meant nothing—but to Ethan meant health or collapse.
Richard cleared his throat.
“How much do you need?”
“Five thousand.”
Richard picked up his phone, made a quick call, then said calmly:
“Laura, prepare a check for fifty thousand.”
Ethan’s eyes widened.
“But I only—”
“I know what you need,” Richard interrupted gently.
“And I know what what you did is worth. You just saved us a twenty-million-dollar project.”
Victor added, pointing at the board: