Chapter 3 - The Breach"What is that?" Ethan asked, pointing at the duck.
"That's Quackers," Sophie said matter-of-factly. "He’s a good listener. You look like you need one."
Mara burst into the room a second later, her face pale, her eyes wide with terror. "Sophie! Oh my god, Mr. Caldwell, I am so sorry—I don't know how—she’s just—"
She grabbed Sophie’s hand, ready to drag her out of the room, expecting the billionaire to erupt. She expected to be fired, to be sued, to be ruined.
Ethan looked at Mara, then at Sophie, who was now holding the duck back under her arm. "She asked me why I looked like my birthday was canceled."
Mara froze, her heart sinking. "I’ll leave. I’ll clear my things. I’m so sorry."
"No," Ethan said. The word was clipped, but there was something behind it—a pause, a hesitation. "Leave her. The duck."
Mara stared at him. "Sir?"
"Leave the duck," Ethan repeated, glancing at the desk where the yellow toy had left a small smudge of dust. "And get back to work, Mara. But keep her quiet."
Mara didn't need to be told twice. She ushered Sophie out, her pulse racing. As they retreated to the pantry, Mara knelt down, trembling. "Sophie, why did you do that? We could lose everything."
"He looked like he needed a friend, Mama," Sophie said, hugging her duck. "And he wasn't a mean man. He was just a sad one."
In the study, Ethan sat in the silence, staring at the empty space on his desk. He reached out and touched the wood where the duck had been. The room felt different. The air didn't feel quite so thin. He picked up his phone, his thumb hovering over Walter’s speed dial, then stopped.
For the rest of the day, he found himself unable to focus on Singapore. He kept thinking about the girl’s pigtails, the way she had looked at him without fear, and the sheer absurdity of a rubber duck sitting on a billion-dollar contract.
That night, for the first time in a decade, Ethan didn't have his usual dinner of bland protein and greens. He walked to the kitchen, where Mara was finishing up.
"Mara," he said.
She jumped. "Yes, sir?"
"The girl," he said, looking away. "Does she like strawberry?"
May you like
"Strawberry?"
"Ice cream," he muttered, turning on his heel and walking away.
