19| Pressures from All Sides

Ethan blinked, reaching for the eye drops Jessica had kindly left on his desk. He wasn't even sure they were working anymore.

When was the last time he actually got a full night's sleep?

The irritation, the exhaustion—it was all piling up. But what gnawed at him most was the weight of his own words.

"Sorry I don't have time to play house with you."

The words had come out sharper than he'd intended.

And the look on her face? He couldn't forget it.

Hurt, disappointment—like he'd just confirmed her worst fears.

He'd said something similar before, but saying it now again... felt crueler.

He hated himself for that

He hated that he had said that to her.

He'd pulled away from Sophie—not intentionally, not because he wanted to—but because he didn't have a choice. His father had recently shifted interest into a new technology expansion, dragging Ethan into the mess. He barely had a moment to breathe, let alone time to think about his marriage.

He didn't even care about this damn expansion.

His phone buzzed, dragging him from his thoughts.

He sighed as he read the message.

"Come to my office. Now."

Ethan shut down his computer with a resigned sigh.

With another slow exhale, he grabbed his suit jacket and headed out.

From the tone of that text, he knew he wouldn't be back anytime soon. And by the time he was, whatever work had piled up on his desk would be the least of his problems.

Robert Sinclair's office wasn't even in the same building as the subsidiary Ethan managed, but that hadn't stopped him from demanding his own space here. A quiet reminder to everyone—including Ethan—that his presence loomed over everything.

When Ethan stepped inside, the room was exactly as he expected—sharp, pristine, a place that screamed power and control. Every inch of it was calculated, just like the man behind the desk.

"Close the door," Robert said curtly, not bothering to look up.

Ethan complied, bracing himself for whatever storm was coming next. He took a seat across from his father, his expression unreadable.

"I've been reviewing your recent performance." The words were flat, emotionless. "Frankly, I'm not impressed. Your decisions have been questionable at best, and your commitment to this company is wavering."

Ethan clenched his jaw.

Wavering?

Ethan had been pushing himself harder than ever, to the point where he didn't know how much longer he could go on.

"We've been working hard, ensuring our projects are on track and—"

"Hard?" Robert interrupted, his tone laced with disdain. "Hard work is meaningless if it doesn't yield results. This company demands excellence, not mediocrity. And your focus—your priorities—have been slipping. It shows."

The words stung, but Ethan knew better than to argue.

Robert leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "The Parker deal? A disaster. You let them walk all over you in negotiations. The quarterly earnings report? Below projections. And the merger talks with Jensen Industries? They're on the verge of collapse because you couldn't keep them interested."

Ethan almost laughed. Of course. His father loved throwing every perceived failure in his face, as if Ethan weren't the one keeping their tech expansions afloat.

Ethan had strategies, had reasons for the decisions he made, but explaining them to Robert was pointless. The man never listened unless he wanted to.

"And then there's your personal life," Robert continued, his voice turning colder. "Your marriage to that girl, Sophie. She wants to work in a flower shop—how embarrassing. I'm almost regretting my decision to arrange that marriage."

The last thing Ethan wanted to hear was Sophie's name, especially coming from his father's mouth.

Sure, he hated when Robert belittled his business decisions, but for some reason, hearing Sophie's name from his lips infuriated him more than anything else.

"My personal life has nothing to do with business," Ethan said, his tone tight.

"Interesting," Robert mused, tilting his head. "You had nothing to say about your failures at work, but the moment I mention that girl, suddenly you have something to defend?"

"I don't question what you do in your private life," Ethan shot back. "So why do you think you can question mine?"

Ethan's grip on the chair tightened. "I don't question what you do in private, so why do you think you can question mine?"

There was a heavy pause.

Then Robert slammed his hand against the desk, the sound so sharp and loud that Ethan felt the force of it vibrate through the room.

Ethan barely had time to process it before Robert shoved a laptop off the table, sending it crashing onto the floor.

He was furious. And Ethan had seen this kind of anger before.

"I didn't want to believe it, but I was right," Robert said, his voice lower now, fury controlled but cutting deep. "You're distracted, aren't you? Why can't you see it? She's a distraction, Ethan. I taught you better than this."

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head as if Ethan had disappointed him on some unspeakable level.

"Women have their place, and it's not in boardrooms or making decisions. They smile, they nod, they sit pretty, and they don't get in the way. But you?"

His eyes burned with contempt. "You've let one crawl into your head, and now you're weak."

Ethan clenched his fists.

The words disgusted him.

He wasn't even on friendly terms with his mother, but knowing Robert thought of her—of Sophie—like this made his blood boil.

"I asked for an heir—not for you to play house with someone beneath your station. You're wasting time and energy on something that brings no value to this family."

"She does bring value," Ethan said firmly, barely holding back his anger. "She's talented, hardworking, supportive, and—"

Robert sneered. "Supportive?" He scoffed, leaning back in his chair, shaking his head. "Tell me, what does she know about this world? About what it takes to succeed here? She's nothing but a flower shop owner, Ethan. And she's dragging you down. Look at you—getting emotional. She's making you weak."

Ethan didn't move. His voice was steel. "Sophie is far more than you'll ever give her credit for."

"More than I'll give her credit for?"

Robert's fury exploded.

In one violent sweep, he sent everything that was still on his desk crashing to the floor—papers flying, pens clattering, glass shattering against the polished wood.

Ethan didn't flinch.

"You talk back now?" Robert's voice rose, dark and threatening. "DON'T ANNOY ME, ETHAN."

Ethan's body turned cold. He was used to this by now.

Robert stood, towering over him, his presence suffocating. "I could destroy her and that flower shop with a single phone call. Don't test me."

Ethan's blood turned to ice.

He would never let that happen.

But Robert played dirty, and Ethan knew better than to take an empty threat lightly.

That shop—it was Sophie's everything.

It wasn't just a business. It was her dream.

Her pride.

Her heart.

His father wouldn't just be tearing down a storefront. He'd be tearing her down.

And Ethan would burn the whole empire to the ground before he let that happen.

"Get out. And fix your mess," Robert said, his voice as sharp as a blade. "I have expectations, and you will meet them."

Ethan forced himself to remain calm, though his pulse pounded in his ears. "I understand, Father," he said, his voice tight with restrained fury.

But as he walked out, one thing was clear.

This wasn't just about business anymore.

This was war.

Ethan left his father's office with the kind of simmering rage that made his hands itch.

But he didn't slam doors. He didn't break things.

If only he could smash things too.

If only he could lash out—break something, yell—like his father always did.

That was his father's way, not his.

Robert exploded. Ethan imploded.

He just swallowed it down, like always

If only he wasn't so messed up.

His fists clenched as he strode down the hallway, his mind circling the conversation like a vulture picking at scraps.

Robert Sinclair didn't believe in distractions.

Ethan knew that lesson well. Anything—anyone—who threatened his carefully laid-out future was eliminated.

So why, why, why was Sophie the one distraction Ethan didn't want to give up?

He entered his own office and slammed the door shut behind him, leaning against it as he forced himself to take slow, even breaths. He hated this.

Hated how his father could still make him feel like a goddamn child who was never enough.

Shoving the thoughts aside, he moved to his desk, switched on his laptop, and drowned himself in work. Distraction. That's what he needed.

Emails. Reports. Contracts. Anything to shut his mind off.

By the time he finally looked up, the sun had set. Hours had passed. The office was eerily quiet, the outside city glowing in the darkness.

Then—a knock on the door.

Ethan exhaled slowly, rubbing his temples before calling out, "Come in."

Whoever it was, he wasn't in the mood.

Jessica stepped in, her usual professional demeanor intact. "Mr. Sinclair, your last meeting for today just got canceled," she informed him, then paused as she took in his expression.

"Is everything alright?"

Ethan straightened, forcing a neutral tone. "Yeah, I'm fine, Jessica," he replied, though the impatience in his voice betrayed him.

Jessica wasn't convinced. She had worked for Ethan long enough to recognize when something was deeply wrong. "You've been pushing yourself too hard," she said gently. "Maybe take a break. Get some rest."

Her words were professional, but still kind. They reminded him of someone else—Sophie. He missed her warmth, her laughter. Why did he do that? Why did he ruin that?

"No," he said quietly, shaking the thoughts away. "We should go over the reports again." But even as he spoke, the weariness in his voice was impossible to hide.

Jessica hesitated, studying him for a moment longer. Then, carefully, she said, "If I may speak from a professional standpoint... I think you need to take a step back. We need you at your best, and right now, you're not. Maybe you should go home a little early today. Get some rest."

The suggestion struck deeper than Ethan expected. Rest wasn't what he needed—it was Sophie.

He missed her. He needed to apologize.

The last time they spoke, he had been cruel.

Yet, even in her anger, Sophie had been honest. And he had deserved it.

If she never forgave him, he would understand.

"Thank you, Jessica," Ethan finally said, standing and adjusting his tie. "I'll take your advice."

Jessica nodded, clearly relieved. "Great."

Ethan gathered his things. He had to talk to her.

The drive back was quiet, uneventful—until it wasn't.

A car suddenly veered into his, slamming against the side and sending a jarring impact through the frame. Ethan barely had time to react before the force lurched him forward, his seatbelt snapping tight against his chest.

His pulse pounded as he exhaled slowly, trying to assess the damage. His car was dented, and the man from the other vehicle was already stepping out.

Damn it.

Ethan groaned, pushing his door open. He did not have time for this.

"Hey! You hit my car!" the other driver barked, his voice sharp and accusing.

Ethan ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. He had seen enough of these setups to recognize one when he did. The guy had obviously swerved into him, and now Ethan was positive—it was on purpose.

Great.

An insurance scammer, no doubt. He had dealt with enough of these.

"Look, I'm exhausted. Let's just exchange information and move on," Ethan muttered, already pulling out his phone to call Jessica.

It was going to be a long night.

********

By the time he finally made it home, Ethan was running on pure exhaustion.

His entire body ached. He barely had the energy to kick off his shoes.

The moment he opened the door, he heard her.

"Ethan?"

Sophie's voice drifted from the living room. He couldn't see her yet, just her silhouette in the dim light.

"I wasn't waiting for you or anything," she said quickly, arms crossed. "Just making sure it was you."

She was upset. He could hear it in her tone. And he deserved it—after the way he had treated her.

He opened his mouth, but suddenly, his vision swayed.

A deep, crushing exhaustion weighed on him like a heavy fog. His legs felt unsteady.

"Wait!" he managed, gripping the wall for balance.

Sophie stepped forward, her annoyance instantly shifting to concern. "Ethan? Are you okay?"

He tried to shake it off, but even speaking felt like too much effort. His head was heavy, his body sluggish.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "About what I said... I'm really sorry."

But instead of responding, Sophie's eyes widened in alarm.

"Ethan, you're scaring me."

He barely heard her. His limbs felt leaden. His breath was shallow.

His body had reached its limit.

The last thing he heard was Sophie calling his name—panic lacing her voice—before everything faded into darkness.

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