Clean.
Busy.
Charles studied it as if assessing property.
Ethan disliked that immediately.
“What do you want?”
“To avoid another unnecessary complication.”
Ethan put down the wrench.
“Your daughter is thirty-three.”
“I’m aware.”
“Then whatever you think you control…”
“You don’t.”
Charles smiled faintly.
“You always had confidence.”
“You always mistook money for authority.”
The smile disappeared.
Charles reached inside his coat.
Removed an envelope.
Placed it on the workbench.
“What’s this?”
“An offer.”
“For?”
“The garage.”
Ethan stared.
Charles continued.
“The property.”
“Equipment.”
“Business.”
“Contracts.”
“All of it.”
Ethan did not touch the envelope.
“Not for sale.”
“You haven’t seen the number.”
“I don’t need to.”
Charles’s eyes cooled.
“Everyone has a number.”
“Maybe you do.”
Ethan turned away.
Charles said:
“You have a daughter now.”
Ethan stopped.
Every muscle in his back tightened.
Charles immediately saw the line he had crossed.
But instead of retreating, he continued carefully.
“A child changes financial priorities.”
Ethan turned slowly.
“Say her name again and this conversation ends differently.”
Charles held his gaze.
“I am not threatening your child.”
“You’re using her to sell me something.”
“Same disease.”
Charles exhaled.
“Sophia is vulnerable.”
Ethan almost laughed.
“She runs a corporation.”
“That is not what I mean.”
“Then what?”
“You.”
There it was.
The same arrogance.
The belief Ethan was contamination.
Charles continued:
“She has spent ten years rebuilding herself.”
“You were part of a life she had to abandon.”
Ethan’s voice became quiet.
“You made her abandon it.”
“I saved her mother.”
“You blackmailed your daughter.”
Charles’s expression hardened.
“I made a decision under impossible circumstances.”
“No.”
“You made her pay for your decision.”
That landed.
Charles’s face changed slightly.
Not enough.
Ethan pointed toward the envelope.
“Take it.”
Charles did not move.
Ethan continued:
“If Sophia wants nothing to do with me, she can tell me herself.”
“If she wants to know me again, you don’t get a vote.”
“And if you come to my business or near my daughter trying to buy either outcome again…”
He stepped closer.
“…you’ll learn exactly how little your money matters here.”
Charles stared.
Then picked up the envelope.
At the garage entrance, he stopped.
“You think this is about pride.”
Ethan said nothing.
Charles continued:
“It isn’t.”
Ethan waited.
“There are things Sophia does not know.”
That caught him.
“What things?”
Charles looked back.
“Ask her why I am still chairman of Laurent Industries if she supposedly controls the company.”
Then he left.
Ethan hated mysteries delivered by rich men.
He hated them more when they worked.
That evening Sophia came to the garage.
Not in a luxury sedan.