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Ethan's Pov
By midmorning, the finance meeting was dragging on. I sat at the head of the table, pretending to listen while the team discussed quarterly projections. My mind wandered, following the soft echo of her laughter I'd heard earlier in the corridor.
"Mr. Cole?"
I blinked. "Yes?"
One of the analysts froze mid- sentence. "I was asking if we should proceed with the revised strategy."
I forced a nod. "Do it."
He looked confused. "Which one, sir? The first or the—"
"The first," I said, cutting him off. "And make sure the figures are double- checked before final submission."
He mumbled an agreement. The others went back to talking, and I leaned back in my chair, rubbing my temples.
This was not me.
I did not get distracted — not by people, not by thoughts, and certainly not by feelings.
And yet, when the meeting ended, I found myself walking — not toward my office, but toward the department downstairs where she worked.
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