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Ethan's POV
When I returned from a business meeting late Wednesday, the office lights were dim. The cleaning crew had gone, but I could still see a single light glowing at the far end.
Her again.
Tracy.
She sat surrounded by papers, her head bent, her movements slow.
I walked closer, my footsteps echoing against the marble floor.
"Tracy," I said softly.
She startled, then straightened, rubbing her eyes quickly. "Sir, I did not hear you come in."
"I can see that." I paused, scanning the mess of reports. "Claire again?"
She did not answer — just gave that quiet, defeated smile that hurt to look at.
"Tracy," I said, lowering my voice, "you don't deserve this. If she is harassing you—"
"She is not," she interrupted quickly, shaking her head. "She is just… strict."
Strict. That word again. I clenched my jaw.
"I will talk to her," I said.
"No!" she said sharply, then softened. "Please do not. I do not want anyone to think I can not handle my work."
"Tracy—"
