Chapter Five: The Ghost in the Glass Office

The next morning, Ethan stepped into WardTech’s 42nd-floor executive suite and froze.

Martin Cray was already there.

Not in person—but in a video interview playing on every major business channel in the break room, lobby, and staff lounge. His familiar face, more aged now but still smug, filled the screens as he leaned into the camera like he was sharing an uncomfortable truth.

“I didn’t want to do this,” Cray said. “But Ethan left me no choice. I helped build WardTech from the ground up. I was the architect of the original tech. He just knew how to sell it. And when I wanted out, I was cornered into an unfair deal. This isn’t about money—it’s about justice.”

Ethan didn’t look away. He forced himself to watch every word.

The employees who gathered around the screens weren’t whispering. They weren’t reacting at all. That was worse. Silence in business meant calculation.

Jenna met him by his office door. “We tried to stop the feeds. It’s everywhere—LinkedIn, TechCrunch, even Bloomberg picked it up.”

“I saw.”

She followed him inside. “You should say something. Even a tweet.”

“No,” Ethan said, loosening his tie. “That gives him the attention he wants.”

Jenna crossed her arms. “With all due respect, he already has attention. Yours won’t change that—it’ll just stop people from writing their own version of the story.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Let me think.”

“Then think fast. We’re bleeding.”

By 3:00 p.m., Ethan had made a decision.

He left the office without his driver. No security detail. Just his coat and a mission.

The apartment was in the East Village—nothing flashy. Old brownstone walk-up. Fifth floor. He knocked once.

Footsteps.

Then the door opened.

Martin Cray looked exactly the same—and completely different. Greyer hair, deeper lines under the eyes. But the smirk was intact.

“Well,” Cray said. “Didn’t expect a visit from the golden boy.”

Ethan didn’t smile. “Can we talk?”

Cray leaned on the doorframe, skeptical. “You mean off-camera? Without lawyers?”

“Just me. And you.”

Cray stepped aside.

The apartment was cluttered but clean—walls covered with tech books and scribbled diagrams on whiteboards. Old prototype parts on shelves. A mind that never shut off.

“I saw your interview,” Ethan said.

“Figured you might.”

“You really believe that version of the story?”

Cray’s eyes narrowed. “Do you?”

They stared at each other for a long beat. Old resentment hung in the air like static.

“I offered you a clean deal,” Ethan said. “You wanted out.”

“No,” Cray snapped. “I wanted a partnership. You wanted a crown.”

“I wanted control. Because I was the one doing the damn work.”

Cray turned away, rubbing his temples. “You never gave me a chance to evolve with it. You pivoted without me. You left me behind, Ethan.”

“You walked away.”

“I walked because I was pushed.”

They were quiet. Then Cray added, “You never looked back. Never once asked if I was okay after the buyout. You just climbed.”

“I didn’t know I had to apologize for surviving.”

“No,” Cray said coldly. “You have to apologize for forgetting who helped you get there.”

Ethan sighed. “What do you want, Martin?”

Cray turned to face him.

“An apology. Public. I want you to admit I mattered. That I wasn’t just another discarded co-founder in a startup success story.”

Ethan shook his head slowly. “That’s not justice. That’s vanity.”

Cray smirked. “Coming from the man with a hundred magazine covers?”

A pause. Then Ethan said quietly, “I won’t give you a headline. But I’ll give you something better.”

Cray raised an eyebrow.

“A platform. To rejoin the company as a technical advisor. With a speaking role at our next conference. Not a payout. Not pity. A seat.”

Cray stared at him, stunned.

“You’d do that?” he asked.

“I’d rather build something again than tear it down.”

As Ethan walked back into the night, he didn’t know if he’d made the right choice.

But for the first time in weeks, the weight in his chest felt a little lighter.

Maybe, just maybe, there was still a way to win—without losing himself in the process.

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