"You don't work here, do you?"
"Not usually." She shrugged. "I was hired through a temp agency. Gave them a fake reference. It's surprisingly easy to infiltrate high society when you're willing to carry a tray."
"Will you get in trouble?"
"Probably." She started toward the service doors, then paused and looked back. "But between you and me? It was worth it."
Ethan watched her walk away—through the service doors, past the waitstaff who were already cleaning up the remnants of the party, into the dark corridor beyond.
He sat in the empty ballroom for a long time after that.
His wheelchair was exactly where it had always been. The blanket was still in a heap on the floor. His legs still ached. His heart still hurt.
But something had shifted.
Something had cracked open.
And for the first time in months, Ethan Vance felt like he could breathe
Chap 4: What the Silence Knows
Three weeks later, Ethan was sitting in his penthouse office overlooking the harbor when his phone buzzed with an unknown number.
He almost didn't answer. He'd been ignoring most calls lately—lawyers, journalists, family members wanting to know why he'd "ruined" the Sterling engagement. Even his mother had called, though her concern had less to do with his well-being and more to do with how the scandal might affect the family's stock prices.
But something made him pick up.
"Ethan Vance."
"Mr. Vance?" A woman's voice, slightly breathless. "This is Isabella Cruz. We met at the gala. I don't know if you remember—"
"I remember."
There was a pause. Then: "I have something you need to see."
An hour later, Isabella was sitting across from him in his office, looking considerably different from the last time he'd seen her. She'd traded the waitress uniform for dark jeans and a leather jacket. Her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail. She looked tired—but alert, like someone who hadn't slept in days.
"You're not a journalist," Ethan said.