Chapter 3 — Behind Closed Doors

Ethan

Ethan Caldwell leaned back in his chair, the polished leather creaking faintly as he stared at the glowing city skyline through the floor-to-ceiling windows of his office. The coffee stain on his otherwise pristine white shirt, now hidden beneath his jacket, was a stark reminder of the whirlwind that had just entered his meticulously controlled world. Amelia Bennett.

The name alone conjured an image of her wide, apologetic hazel eyes and the nervous rambling that had followed her clumsy entrance. He had pegged her as overly eager within the first five seconds and naïve within the next ten. Yet, during their brief meeting earlier, she had held her ground, her voice steady despite the tension in the room. That was... unexpected.

His hand moved to the cuff of his sleeve, adjusting it with deliberate precision. The motion was habitual, a way to reassert control when something—or someone—unsettled him. Ethan prided himself on reading people quickly, and Amelia, with her bright floral blouse and relentless optimism, seemed predictable. People like her didn’t last long at Caldwell Tech. Not in a world that demanded results above all else. And yet, he couldn’t quite dismiss the flicker of defiance in her tone or the way she had met his gaze without faltering.

She wasn’t the first to waltz in here thinking she could change everything. But something about her was different. Irritatingly different.

The soft click of the door broke through his thoughts, and Grace Thompson stepped inside, tablet in hand, her expression calm but alert. If anyone could navigate the minefield of Ethan’s exacting expectations, it was Grace.

“Ethan,” she greeted, her tone as measured as always.

“Yes?” His clipped response was accompanied by a quick glance in her direction.

Grace walked further into the room, closing the door softly behind her. “The PR team has finalized their assignments. Amelia Bennett will be your point person for the new campaign.”

Ethan’s jaw tightened, though his face betrayed nothing. “I’m aware.”

Grace raised an eyebrow, her sharp gaze catching the tension he thought he’d hidden. “You’re aware, but are you prepared? She’s... different.”

“That’s one way to put it.” His tone was dry, and he caught the faint twitch of amusement at the corner of her mouth.

Grace’s expression softened, her voice taking on a rare note of encouragement. “Sometimes, a little disruption is what’s needed to shake things up.”

Ethan turned his chair slightly, letting his gaze drift back to the skyline. The city below was a maze of ambition, its lights twinkling like the promises of success that had driven him since he was a child. “Optimism won’t meet deadlines,” he said, his voice flat.

“She’s ambitious. And unorthodox. But she might be exactly what this company needs right now.”

Ethan’s lips pressed into a thin line. “What this company needs is discipline, focus, and results.”

“And if she doesn’t follow the rules?” Grace asked, her voice probing but not confrontational.

For a moment, Ethan didn’t answer. Instead, he stood, buttoning his jacket as he moved toward the door. “I’m going to the rooftop. Hold my calls.”

Grace’s eyes followed him, her gaze as discerning as ever. “Of course,” she replied, her voice calm but carrying an undercurrent of intrigue.

---

The rooftop garden was a place Ethan rarely visited, though he’d insisted on its inclusion during the building’s design phase. At the time, it had seemed like a good idea—a retreat from the relentless pace of the corporate world. A space for employees to pause and reflect, to regain balance. But like most things that hinted at vulnerability, it had been left to wither, visited only in fleeting moments of solitude.

As he stepped onto the rooftop, the air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of lavender and damp earth. The garden was a peculiar contrast to the sleek, unyielding architecture of the building. Overgrown vines spilled from planters, and weeds pushed through cracks in the gravel path. The once-pristine symmetry was now a chaotic tangle of green, nature reclaiming its space.

Ethan’s polished shoes crunched against the gravel as he walked, his pace unhurried. He noted the faded wooden benches and the rustling leaves, his sharp eye cataloging every sign of neglect. This place had once reflected a vision of balance—innovation tempered by humanity. Now, it seemed like a mirror of something he didn’t want to name: the cultural stagnation at Caldwell Tech, the hollowness he fought to ignore.

He sat on a bench near the edge of the rooftop, the city stretching out below him in all its restless energy. For a moment, he allowed himself to simply sit, the weight of the day pressing heavily against his shoulders. His fingers curled into his palms briefly before he exhaled, releasing the tension.

Reaching into his inner pocket, he pulled out the pocket watch. The silver casing gleamed faintly under the soft light, and his thumb brushed over the engraved inscription: “Time heals all wounds.” The words felt heavier tonight, their promise distant and elusive.

The watch had been a gift from his mentor—a man who had believed in him when no one else had. A man who had taught him that resilience was the price of success. The watch had been his constant companion, a reminder of lessons learned and the sacrifices made along the way. But tonight, the watch felt like a question rather than an answer. Time heals all wounds. Did it? Or did it simply dull the edges, leaving scars that never truly faded?

His thoughts shifted, unbidden, to Amelia. Her sunflower pendant had caught his attention during their meeting, its brightness almost garish against the sterile gray of the conference room. Yet, there had been something about it—about her—that lingered. A warmth, a defiance against the rigidity of this place. It was... irritating. And unsettling.

Why did her optimism unsettle him? Was it because it reminded him of something he had long since buried? Ethan clenched his fist around the pocket watch, the cool metal grounding him. He dismissed the thought as quickly as it arose. There was no room for sentimentality here. No place for risks.

He slipped the watch back into his pocket and stood, his jaw tightening. He didn’t have time for distractions, and Amelia Bennett was nothing if not a distraction. Her ideas, her optimism, her relentless refusal to conform—they were risks he couldn’t afford. Risks he shouldn’t even entertain.

And yet, as he stood amidst the quiet solitude of the rooftop garden, he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was a risk he might have to take.

---

When Ethan returned to his office, Grace was waiting for him, her tablet tucked under one arm. She studied him for a moment, her sharp eyes taking in his composed but slightly distant demeanor.

“Is the garden still standing?” she asked lightly, her tone carefully neutral.

“Barely,” Ethan replied, his voice devoid of inflection.

Grace’s lips curved into the faintest smile, but she let the remark pass. “Amelia is in the conference room with the team. They’re finalizing the campaign’s initial framework.”

“I’ll review it tomorrow,” Ethan said, moving to his desk and opening his laptop.

Grace hesitated, her gaze lingering on him. “She’s going to surprise you, you know.”

Ethan’s fingers paused over the keyboard, his expression unreadable. He didn’t look up, but his voice was quiet when he replied, “We’ll see.”

As Grace left the office, the door clicking shut behind her, Ethan allowed himself a brief moment of stillness. The city lights flickered outside his window, a reminder of the relentless pace of the world he had built—and the world that now seemed to be shifting in ways he couldn’t quite control.

Amelia Bennett was a spark in the dark, and Ethan wasn’t sure whether she would ignite something new or burn everything down.

For now, all he could do was wait.