It had been five days since Ethan Blake had removed Alicia Monroe from the Miami project. Five days since her last word to him. Five days since the news had broken that shook not only his company but also his carefully built reputation.
In those five days, Ethan had barely slept. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw headlines flashing across his mind, investors looking at him with disappointment, and Alicia walking out of his office for the last time. He still couldn't believe it.
How did it all fall apart so fast?
He poured himself a glass of scotch from the cabinet in his office and sat down, staring out the window into the night sky. Miami had turned into a nightmare. The vision he once had — high-rise buildings, swimming pools, and oceanfront towers with the Blake Innovations logo at the top — had vanished like smoke in the wind.
There were new problems every day.
Lawyers warned him that federal regulators had taken an interest in the forged zoning permits. A second parcel of land Tony purchased was found to have unpaid liens. Worse, two subcontractors had come forward saying they were never paid for prep work.
"I should've walked away the moment I smelled something off," Ethan muttered to himself. "But I wanted it too badly."
He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.
That was the truth, wasn't it?
He had seen real estate as his ticket to another level of success. Tech had made him rich. But real estate — it would make him untouchable. A legacy. Something solid that would last beyond headlines and stock charts.
But it had also blinded him.
The next morning, Samantha Patel entered his office with a folder. She looked tired. The pressure was getting to everyone now.
"We've lost two more investors," she said, placing the folder on his desk.
Ethan didn't even look at it. "Names?"
"Wesley Partners and Garber Holdings. They both cited reputational concerns."
Ethan took a deep breath. "How bad is it?"
Samantha hesitated. "If one more big name pulls out, we'll have to consider liquidation of the Miami assets."
Ethan nodded slowly. "And what about Tony?"
"He's gone silent," she replied. "Last we heard, he was lawyering up. Some reports say he's in the Dominican Republic."
"Of course he is," Ethan muttered.
Samantha sat down across from him. "You know we warned you about him. I did. So did Jordan."
Ethan looked up. "I know. And I didn't listen."
"You wanted to believe in Alicia," she added.
Ethan's eyes narrowed. "Leave her out of it."
Samantha frowned. "You still think she's innocent?"
"I think she got too close to someone who wasn't," he replied. "That's not the same thing as betrayal."
Samantha didn't argue. But her silence said enough.
Later that day, Ethan met with Jordan Reed at a quiet bar uptown. They took a private booth near the back, away from the noise.
Jordan ordered a whiskey. Ethan stuck to water.
"You're doing interviews again," Jordan said.
Ethan nodded. "Got no choice. I have to control the story."
Jordan sipped his drink. "You still think you can save the Miami deal?"
Ethan leaned forward. "Not the deal. But the company? Yes. I just need time."
Jordan looked at him for a long time. "You've changed, Ethan."
"How so?"
"You used to be patient. Strategic. This time, you moved fast, trusted too easily, and got burned. That's not the Ethan I know."
Ethan sighed. "Maybe success changed me."
"Maybe," Jordan replied. "Or maybe you thought real estate would be easier than it is."
Ethan didn't answer.
After a few minutes, Jordan pulled out his phone and showed Ethan an email. It was from a journalist — one of the major business columnists in New York — asking questions about internal leaks in Blake Innovations.
"They're coming for you, man," Jordan said. "Not just the company. You."
Ethan sat back, stunned. "What kind of leaks?"
Jordan shrugged. "Hard to say. But you need to find out. Fast."
The next morning, Ethan held a closed-door meeting with his senior leadership. No assistants, no phones, just his top five executives in a quiet conference room.
"I'm hearing there's been a leak," he said, pacing the room. "Confidential memos, emails, maybe financials. Someone's feeding the press."
The room was tense. Eyes darted from one person to another.
"No one here would do that," said Monica Hale, the head of HR.
Ethan stopped and stared at her. "No one? Are you sure?"
She shrank slightly under his gaze. "I just mean… we're all loyal."
Ethan looked at the others. "We've had major fallout. Investors pulling out. Legal pressure. Dozens of people laid off. I understand if people are frustrated. But if there's even one person in this room leaking information, it ends now."
No one spoke.
Ethan continued. "IT will be auditing all company emails for the last 90 days. If there's something you want to confess, now's the time."
Silence.
"All right," Ethan said. "Meeting over."
As they filed out, he caught Samantha's eye. She gave him a small nod.
They would find the leak.
He was sure of it.
Later that day, Ethan received a surprise visitor.
Alicia Monroe.
She stood outside his office in a gray blazer, holding a small folder and looking more tired than he had ever seen her.
He hesitated, then waved her in.
"I wasn't expecting you," he said.
"I didn't come to argue," she replied. "I came to give you this."
She placed the folder on his desk. Inside were printed emails between her and Tony, as well as her personal notes from the last two months of the project.
"I didn't delete anything. I kept records of everything I did, every meeting I attended, every change I approved," she said.
Ethan scanned the pages. "Why give me this now?"
"Because I didn't lie to you, Ethan. I didn't betray you. And I'm not going to let my name go down in flames over a man I stopped trusting weeks ago."
Ethan looked up. "Then why didn't you walk away sooner?"
"I tried," she said. "I told you we needed to slow down. You didn't want to hear it."
Ethan remembered. She had hesitated on the last round of land purchases. She had told him the risk was increasing. But he had pushed ahead anyway.
"I'll review these," he said finally. "Thanks."
As Alicia turned to leave, she paused.
"I cared about this company," she said softly. "About you. I wanted this to work."
Ethan didn't respond.
After she left, he stared at the folder. He didn't know what hurt more — the possibility that she was innocent, or the knowledge that he hadn't believed her when it mattered most.
By the end of the week, IT finished its investigation.
The leak hadn't come from any of the executives.
It came from a junior analyst — someone Ethan had never even spoken to — who had sold confidential information to a gossip website for $5,000. The story went viral. The analyst had been let go quietly, but the damage was done.
Ethan sat alone in the boardroom, staring at a list of canceled contracts. The numbers were brutal. They had lost over $38 million in projected revenue. Half the Miami assets were frozen under investigation. Lawsuits were piling up. His legal team was stretched thin.
His empire was shaking.
He thought of his father again — the old bricklayer who never had much but always believed in doing things the right way.
"You take shortcuts," his father used to say, "and you'll never last long in any business."
Ethan had taken more than one shortcut. And now he was paying the price.
The final blow came on a Tuesday afternoon.
Blake Innovations' board of directors called an emergency session. Ethan had to attend in person.
He walked into the room knowing what was coming.
Harold Greene, the chairman of the board, stood to speak.
"Mr. Blake," he said, "the board has reviewed the situation and, after lengthy discussion, we believe the damage from the Miami deal has impacted the company's stability and reputation beyond repair under the current leadership."
Ethan remained calm. "Are you asking me to step down?"
"We're voting to temporarily remove you as CEO," Harold said. "Effective immediately."
Ethan nodded slowly. "You'll regret this."
"We hope not," Harold replied.
The vote passed. Unanimously.
Ethan stood, straightened his suit, and walked out of the boardroom.
He didn't say a word.
But inside, his heart was breaking.
Everything he had built — every hour, every sacrifice, every sleepless night — had been taken from him in less than a year.
And he had no one to blame but himself.