Ethan sat in the back seat of a black town car, staring out the window as the city passed him by. Manhattan felt colder that day, as if the streets themselves were judging him. The sounds of traffic, honking horns, and people shouting seemed far away. It was all a blur.
He had just been removed as CEO of his own company.
He didn't cry. He didn't yell. He didn't even argue when the board voted him out. Deep down, he had known this was coming. But that didn't make it easier.
Ten years of building Blake Innovations — from a garage startup to one of the top business names in the country — had ended in a single vote.
His phone buzzed.
He ignored it.
It buzzed again.
Still, he didn't move.
He didn't want to talk to anyone. Not now. Not even Samantha or Jordan. Especially not the press.
He leaned his head against the window and closed his eyes.
All he could see was the word failure flashing over and over in his mind.
The next morning, Ethan woke up in his penthouse apartment on the Upper West Side. It didn't feel like home anymore. Everything about the place reminded him of his success — and now, of everything he had lost.
The large glass windows. The abstract paintings. The expensive furniture. They felt like pieces of someone else's life.
He made a pot of coffee and sat in silence at his kitchen island. The TV was off. His phone was on airplane mode. His email inbox probably had hundreds of messages, but he didn't care.
A knock at the door broke the silence.
He ignored it.
The knock came again. Louder.
Reluctantly, he stood and opened the door.
It was Jordan.
He looked rough — like he hadn't slept either.
"Can I come in?" Jordan asked.
Ethan stepped aside.
Jordan walked in, dropped his backpack near the couch, and looked around.
"You look like hell," Jordan said.
"I feel worse," Ethan replied.
Jordan sighed and sat down.
"You saw the press conference?" Ethan asked.
"Yeah," Jordan said. "It was on every business network."
"Guess I'm officially out."
Jordan nodded. "Temporarily. That's what they said."
Ethan shook his head. "It's never temporary. Once they lose faith in you, they don't bring you back."
There was silence between them for a moment.
Jordan finally spoke. "You know what the real problem is?"
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "You're going to tell me?"
"You stopped trusting the people who had your back. Me. Samantha. Alicia."
Ethan flinched at the last name.
Jordan noticed.
"Yeah. I know what happened," he said. "She told me everything. She kept records, Ethan. She wasn't the traitor."
"I know that now," Ethan muttered.
Jordan stood and walked over to the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of water.
"You're not the first guy to lose control," he said. "But if you want to get back up, you're going to have to face the truth."
"What truth?"
"That your ego got in the way."
Ethan didn't argue.
Because Jordan was right.
Three days later, Ethan forced himself to return to the office — not to take charge, but to collect his personal belongings. The board had made it clear that his access would be restricted. He was no longer involved in daily operations.
Still, he didn't want to leave everything behind.
He arrived early, hoping to avoid the stares. But people still noticed. Some nodded. Some looked away. A few whispered.
Ethan walked into his office. His nameplate was still on the door.
Inside, everything was untouched. His desk. His books. Even the framed photo of him shaking hands with a U.S. senator — now a cruel reminder of how far he had fallen.
He sat down one last time, took a deep breath, and began packing.
Fifteen minutes later, there was a knock.
It was Samantha.
"Thought I'd catch you before you left," she said.
Ethan gave a small smile. "Didn't expect to see you."
"I thought you might need help," she replied.
They stood in silence for a moment.
"I'm sorry," Ethan said suddenly. "For not listening to you. For everything."
Samantha nodded. "Thank you."
"I don't blame you if you're angry."
"I was," she admitted. "But I'm also loyal. And I still believe in what we built. Even if you lost your way."
Ethan sat back down. "What happens now?"
"The interim CEO starts next week," Samantha said. "Harold will be more involved. They're going to try to salvage what they can from the Miami mess."
"And you?" he asked.
"I'm staying — for now," she replied. "Unless it gets worse."
Ethan felt a pang of guilt.
"I don't want to lose you too," he said.
She gave him a sad smile. "Then you should've fought harder for us — the team. The ones who stood by you."
He looked down.
Samantha turned to leave, then paused. "By the way — Alicia's consulting again. Some new firm in Atlanta. You should call her."
Ethan didn't respond.
But the thought stayed with him.
That night, Ethan sat alone on his balcony, staring at the city lights.
He thought about everything he had done wrong. Every shortcut. Every time he had ignored advice. Every red flag he had waved off.
He also thought about Alicia.
He picked up his phone, scrolled through his contacts, and hovered over her name.
But he couldn't bring himself to call.
Not yet.
Instead, he opened his notes app and began to type.
Just thoughts. Reflections. Lessons learned. Painful memories.
It felt good to let it out.
Maybe, he thought, this was the beginning of something new.
Not a comeback.
Not yet.
But a rebuilding.
Slow. Honest. And different.
Over the next two weeks, Ethan kept a low profile.
He stayed away from interviews. He canceled all public appearances. He focused on learning from the wreckage.
He read every legal document related to the Miami project.
He met privately with advisors he trusted — people who weren't afraid to tell him the truth.
He started therapy.
And slowly, something began to change in him.
He stopped thinking about the empire he had lost.
And started thinking about the kind of man he wanted to be.
One evening, he finally made the call.
Alicia answered after two rings.
There was silence for a few seconds.
"Ethan," she said quietly.
"Hi."
More silence.
"I wasn't sure you'd ever call," she said.
"I wasn't sure I had the right," he replied.
There was a long pause.
Then she said, "I'm listening."
"I made mistakes," Ethan said. "I let greed and pride blind me. And I hurt people I care about. Including you."
She didn't respond right away.
"I don't expect forgiveness," he added. "I just needed you to know."
After a moment, Alicia said, "Thank you."
Another pause.
"How's Atlanta?" he asked.
"Busy," she replied. "Different. But good."
"I'm glad," he said.
There was another silence. But this time, it felt easier.
"We should talk again sometime," Alicia said.
"I'd like that," Ethan replied.
When the call ended, Ethan felt something he hadn't felt in a long time.
Hope.
Not for a second chance at business.
But for a second chance at being a better man.