12| Workplace Dynamics

The blaring alarm pulled Ethan from sleep. He squinted at the clock—4 a.m. The familiar ache of exhaustion tugged at him, but he knew better than to hit snooze. Getting a head start on the day wasn't optional—it was necessary.

With a groan, he pushed himself out of bed. The gym was non-negotiable. He needed it to keep up with the pressure, the demands of work. But lately, even the gym wasn't offering the clarity it once did.

Every time he tried to zero in, she appeared. Sophie. In the kitchen, humming softly to herself. In the living room, curled up with a book. Even when she wasn't there, she was.

It was like she'd crept into his head and refused to leave.

After finishing his workout, Ethan drove back home. It was close to 6 a.m. by the time he stepped through the door. The hot shower helped—at least a little. But as the water hit his skin, his thoughts drifted back to her.

The last time he was with Sophie, he'd almost made a mistake.

Would he even call it a mistake? That thought lingered too long, and he shook it off like water from his hair. He'd almost closed the gap between them and kissed her again.

He didn't know he had this much self-restraint, but she pushed him right to the edge. He'd promised himself this marriage would be simple with no complications. But Sophie was anything but simple.

She was driving him crazy. And that scared him more than anything.

Dressed and ready for work, Ethan passed her bedroom door. He paused, instinctively straining to hear if she was awake. Then he caught it—a pop song playing faintly through the door. The corner of his mouth twitched. Pop music at 6 a.m.?

Did she think she was in some kind of movie montage? He could almost picture her dancing around, and to his horror, the thought made him chuckle.

Shaking his head, he forced his feet to keep moving. Focus, Sinclair. Focus.

He needed to focus. But the truth was, he'd never had to put this much effort into focusing before. It used to come as easy as breathing.

Soon, he pulled up to Sinclair Enterprises.

Here, he was the Executive Vice President (EVP), overseeing Sinclair FinTech Solutions and Sinclair Technologies.

But even with all his titles, he wasn't the one in charge. Not really.

His father, Robert Sinclair, still ruled like a king. CEO and puppet master. Ethan may have earned his position—managing Sinclair FinTech Solutions and Sinclair Technologies, overseeing everything from AI-driven investment tools to cybersecurity—but Robert never let him forget who held the reins.

The office environment reflected his leadership—open, modern, and collaborative. They'd intentionally gotten rid of traditional barriers like rigid hierarchies, focusing instead on talent and creativity.

His father hated this system. Robert preferred bureaucracy—layers of control and top-down authority. But the open model worked, and the data proved it. Ethan's father couldn't argue with the numbers... although he still tried when he felt particularly stubborn.

It had been the same story when Ethan proposed launching the technology subsidiaries. His father had dismissed tech as volatile and frivolous. Robert Sinclair had always focused on Energy & Sustainability, and while Ethan respected how successful his father had been in that arena, he knew tech was the future.

Even though Ethan had proven his father—and most of the board—wrong, Robert still involved himself in Ethan's decisions, hovering just enough to remind him who was really in charge.

As Ethan reached his office, Jessica was the first to greet him.

"Good morning, Ethan. The morning briefing is on your desk, and I've emailed the priority proposals for your review."

"Thanks, Jessica," he replied, grateful as always for her efficiency.

"Oh, and your coffee's on your desk," she added with a knowing smile before returning to her work.

Ethan appreciated Jessica more than he let on. They'd been working together since before he took over the first subsidiary, and then the second. Jessica was older than him, with more experience, and she didn't waste time with unnecessary small talk. She did her job well, never prying into his personal life, and handled confidential matters with discretion.

That's why he'd promoted her to Executive Operations Manager, putting her in charge of managing all administrative staff.

Stepping into his office, Ethan took a deep breath. Another day, another battle.

He settled behind his large mahogany desk, turning on his computer and diving into reports. But as his eyes drifted to the calendar, his mood soured. Another board meeting.

He hated those.

They never discussed anything meaningful—just rich men scheming for ways to get richer, with little concern for anyone else. That was the political side of the business he couldn't stand.

He cared about results—completing projects, making profits, ensuring his employees were paid well and had solid benefits. He wanted Sinclair Enterprises to mean something beyond just another family-owned conglomerate hoarding power.

But the board didn't care about that. The last thing he cared about was cozying up to board members to maintain voting power. But his father? Robert Sinclair was a master at playing the game. Ethan had proven himself with the success of the tech subsidiaries, but it would never be enough.

Most of the time, Ethan didn't agree with his father's decisions. Robert Sinclair was too rigid, too set in his ways when it came to business. And when he did make decisions, they were often driven by chasing the next big thing, without considering the innovation needed to sustain it.

Maybe once, his father had passion and drive, but somewhere along the line, it had been snuffed out—just like the elder Sinclairs before him. It seemed the Sinclair family had a long history of killing aspirations and dreams.

Ethan didn't realize how long he'd been lost in thought until Jessica knocked lightly on the door before stepping in.

"Ethan, they're already setting up for the board meeting," she said, her tone professional as always. She placed a thick file on his desk. "Here are the printed versions of the documents you requested."

Ethan straightened, forcing himself to concentrate. "Is everything in order?"

"Yes. I've double-checked all the figures. We should be prepared for any questions the board might have," Jessica replied confidently.

She paused for a brief moment, hesitation flickering in her eyes. "Your father is already here."

Of course he was. Ethan nodded, though a familiar sense of dread settled in his chest. They were launching a new technology soon, one that required significant investment. He'd already discussed it with his father—but Robert Sinclair wasn't exactly known for his listening skills.

"Thanks for the heads-up," Ethan said, his voice tight.

Jessica offered a sympathetic smile and nodded before leaving, the door clicking shut behind her.

Ethan leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes for a moment. You've done this before. You'll get through it. Even though he'd proven time and time again that he could deliver results, they always seemed to question his every move.

During moments of weakness—like this—was when Sophie crept into his thoughts.

It was unsettling how easily she invaded his mind, even in the midst of his most demanding work. She had this way of making him feel like the walls he'd built weren't as solid as he thought. He hated that.

The phone on his desk buzzed, jolting him back to reality. Right. Focus.

He picked it up.

"Ethan," Robert Sinclair's deep voice came through the receiver. "I trust you're prepared for today's board meeting."

"Yes. Everything is ready," Ethan replied, his tone shifting automatically to something more formal, detached. "Of course, we're prepared to answer all your concerns and questions."

"Good. I expect nothing less," Robert said with a dry chuckle. Ethan knew that laugh—it wasn't humor. It was amusement and sometimes condescension. His father found the entire situation a game.

"You know I won't support it unless I'm impressed."

Robert Sinclair didn't waste time on things that didn't serve his interests. He played kingmaker, even with his own son.

"Of course," Ethan said, his grip tightening on the phone. "That's why we've worked so hard."

"I'm looking forward to it," Robert replied, and then the line went dead.

Ethan placed the phone back on the receiver, his jaw clenched tight. Sometimes, he wondered if his father wanted him to be a rival—to compete with him, to fight for approval that always felt just out of reach. On the outside, they presented a united front, but behind closed doors? Ethan wasn't so sure.

Part of him even suspected that his father wanted to sabotage his efforts, just to prove a point.

Still, part of him—maybe the part he hated most—wanted to see that rare, impressed look on his father's face. To force him to acknowledge what he'd built. To make him realize that he wasn't just Robert Sinclair's son—he was a force in his own right.

There was no time to dwell on his personal life. Not now. His focus had to be on the company and the expectations resting on his shoulders.

It was exhausting. But failure wasn't an option.

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