Chapter 2 - I'll Think About It

Victoria's POV

I spent an hour hunting him online—three minutes at the gym to trap him, one text to own him.

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I'm spending an entire hour digging through Ethan Cole's social media.

There's not much. He's not the type who posts gym selfies or brunch plates every day. But I find what I need: he's a member at the Palo Alto location, usually shows up around seven on weekday mornings.

So Wednesday morning at six fifty-five, I'm walking into that gym.

I normally go to the San Francisco location, but switching things up for one day won't kill me. I'm wearing a low-key athletic set, hair pulled into a high ponytail, makeup that looks like no makeup.

Sophie calls to confirm my schedule. "Ms. Sterling, you have the board meeting at nine—"

"Push it to ten."

"But—"

"Ten, Sophie." I hang up and step inside.

I scan the space. Spot him in the weight area.

Ethan Cole in person looks better than his photos. Dark brown hair, focused expression, wearing a plain gray tee that looks like it came from somewhere cheap. But his build is good. Lean muscle, not bulky.

He's doing deadlifts. Form is perfect.

I head to the dumbbell rack nearby and start my routine, watching him from the corner of my eye.

He's completely absorbed in his workout. No selfies, no posing in the mirror, no staring at women in yoga pants.

Focused. Disciplined.

I like that.

Fifteen minutes later, he takes a break and walks to the water fountain.

I happen to head there too.

"Excuse me," I say.

He looks up, surprised. Up close, he has deep gray eyes and some stubble, like he forgot to shave.

"Yes?" His voice is lower than I expected.

"You're Ethan Cole, right?"

His expression shifts to guarded instantly. "Yeah. You are?"

"Victoria Sterling. Sterling Tech." I extend my hand. "I got your technical proposal."

He shakes my hand. Warm palm, firm grip but not aggressive. Then he releases quickly, like he touched something burning.

"Oh." He pauses. "I didn't think you'd—I mean, I just tried sending an email."

"That proposal was impressive." I lean against the fountain. "How did you spot those vulnerabilities?"

"I..." He hesitates. "I've worked on similar system architecture before. These are common patterns."

"Common?" I raise an eyebrow. "My CTO didn't catch them. My entire security team missed them. But you're saying they're common?"

He shrugs, looking slightly embarrassed. "Maybe I'm looking at it from a different angle."

Humble. Another point in his favor.

"We should talk," I say. "About the possibility of you joining Sterling Tech."

He freezes. For a split second, I catch something in his eyes—desperation, need, hope—but it disappears fast.

"I'm not sure I'd be a good fit." His voice stays calm. "My track record lately hasn't been great."

"I know about Nexus Labs." I meet his eyes. "Wasn't your fault."

"But the debt is mine." He smiles bitterly. "Investors don't care whose fault it was."

So he admits it. Honest. Makes me more interested.

"I care about talent." I pull out my card. "This is my private number. Call me. We'll talk."

He takes the card, looks at it, then looks at me. Those gray eyes hold something I can't quite read. Doubt? Calculation? Assessment?

"Why?" he asks suddenly. "Why me? You must get hundreds of applications."

"Because you didn't apply." I say. "You just showed your value. That takes confidence."

"Or desperation," he says quietly.

I smile. "Sometimes they look the same."

We hold eye contact for a few seconds. There's a charge in the air. I feel it. I know he feels it too.

Then he looks away first.

"I'll think about it." He slips the card into his pocket.

"Don't think too long." I turn to leave, then glance back. "By the way, Ethan?"

"Yeah?"

"Your deadlift form is good. But you could increase the weight. You're holding back."

He looks startled.

I smile. "I noticed."

Back in my car, I tell the driver to wait.

I text Sophie: "Deep background check on Ethan Cole. I need his debt details, his mother's medical situation, his current financial status. By this afternoon."

Then I lean back in my seat and close my eyes.

I can still feel the warmth of his handshake, see that flash of desperation in his eyes.

He needs help.

He needs money.

He needs me.

Perfect.

But there's a small voice in my head asking: Does he need you, or just what you can give?

I push the voice down. Doesn't matter. Need is need, whatever kind it is.

"Back to the office," I tell the driver.

At four that afternoon, Sophie brings in the report.

I read slowly. Carefully.

Ethan Cole: one point eight million in debt, mostly from investor settlements after Nexus Labs went under. His co-founder Blake Morrison took all the company's liquid assets and disappeared, leaving Ethan to face the legal consequences.

Mother: Patricia Cole, sixty-four, stage three breast cancer, undergoing chemotherapy. Medical bills: two hundred eighty-seven thousand unpaid.

Current income: freelance consulting, barely covering basic expenses.

Address: studio apartment in Palo Alto, twenty-four hundred a month rent, two late payments already.

I stare at the numbers, calculating.

Two million would solve all his problems. For me, that's one quarter's bonus.

For him, it's the difference between drowning and breathing.

I pick up my phone and text him: "I know you need what I can offer. Tomorrow night, 8 PM, my place. Let's talk terms."

Then I open my banking app and transfer fifty thousand each to Jake, Damien, and Marco. Termination bonuses.

Clean slate.

My finger hovers over the confirm button.

Part of me knows what I'm doing. Using power, using money, to manipulate someone desperate.

But another part says: This is just business. A transaction. Like all the others.

I press confirm.

My phone vibrates. Ethan's reply comes through:

"I'll be there."

Three words. No questions, no hesitation.

I stare at those three words and feel something uneasy stir in my chest.