Chapter 4 - THE MORNING AFTER
The next morning, the gray autumn sunlight filtered through the cracked blinds of my tiny, drafty apartment. The eviction notice was still sitting on my kitchen counter, glaring at me like a countdown clock.
I stared at Ethan’s business card resting beside it.
Downtown Architectural Design.
It sounded miles away from my reality of carrying heavy trays of champagne and enduring arrogant tech bros. Yet, staying here meant waiting for the sheriff to padlock my door. I had nothing left to lose.
At 9:45 AM, I stepped out of the subway downtown and walked three blocks until I stood in front of a restored brick warehouse building. A sleek black sign beside the heavy oak door read Hale Studio.
I pushed the door open. The interior was breathtaking—exposed brick walls, polished concrete floors, large drafting tables covered in blueprints, and green plants spilling down from high industrial shelves. It smelled of fresh coffee, cedar wood, and creative energy.
A young woman with bright red hair looked up from a front desk. “Can I help you?”
“Hi, I’m Mary Lin,” I said, nervously smoothing down my sweater. “I’m here to see Ethan Hale.”
Before the receptionist could reply, a door at the back of the studio opened. Ethan stepped out, wearing a simple gray sweater and jeans, holding a roll of drafting paper. When he saw me, his face lit up with an unmistakable, genuine smile.
“You came,” he signed instantly, stepping across the studio toward me.
“I told you I was broke, not stupid,” I smiled back, signing fluidly. “Though I have to warn you, my architectural skills begin and end with building blanket forts.”
Ethan laughed—a real, rich sound that echoed off the high brick walls. The receptionist’s jaw dropped in silent shock, having likely never seen her boss look so relaxed, let alone communicate in sign language.
“You don't need to know how to draw blueprints, Mary,” Ethan said, gesturing for me to follow him back to his private office. “I need someone to manage my client relations, organize my project timelines, and keep my chaotic schedule from falling apart. And...” he paused, his expression softening, “...someone who can translate when I have to deal with my father’s corporate legal team.”
We stepped into his office, which overlooked a bustling downtown street.
“About your father,” I said cautiously, sitting down in the guest chair opposite his desk. “Are you sure hiring me won't cause a war? He made it pretty clear yesterday that he wanted me erased.”
Ethan’s jaw tightened, a flash of cold steel entering his eyes. “Let him try to start a war. For years, I let him control every aspect of my life because I thought I owed him my obedience. But yesterday, watching him humiliate me while a stranger had the courage to stand up for me... something broke inside me. I’m done hiding in his shadow, Mary. And I’m done letting him dictate who I surround myself with.”
He slid a standard employment contract across the desk toward me.
I looked down at the paper. The starting salary listed at the top made my breath catch in my throat. It wasn't just enough to cover my back rent and the eviction notice; it was three times what I had been making at the Golden Oak, with full healthcare benefits included.
“Ethan... this is... this is way too much,” I whispered, looking up at him in disbelief.
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“It’s actually below market rate for an executive studio manager, but you’re starting as a junior, so you’ll have to earn the rest,” he joked smoothly, a playful twinkle in his eye. Then, his expression turned serious. “Sign it, Mary. Let’s build something together.”
With a shaking hand, I picked up a pen and signed my name on the dotted line.
