ETHAN’S ULTIMATE RISE TO POWER

MARTIN RUTHERFORD

Just as the dust settled from Martin’s expensive car disappearing down the street, a figure appeared on the sidewalk, walking toward the shop. Ethan looked up—and his tense expression immediately softened into a smile.

It was Lucas Craig, a tall, well-dressed young man about Ethan’s age, carrying a brown paper lunch bag in one hand. His shirt was neatly tucked in, and his shoes didn’t have a single scuff. He looked like he came straight from an office building, which wasn’t far from the truth.

Lucas worked at one of the companies owned by Rutherford Enterprises. Which meant, unfortunately, Martin Rutherford was technically his boss. But Lucas didn’t carry himself like the people Martin surrounded himself with. There was no arrogance in his step, no cold smirk on his face. Just an easy grin and eyes that said, “I’ve got your back.”

“Look who’s still standing after getting barked at by the golden prince of the Rutherford empire,” Lucas said, his tone light as he approached.

Ethan chuckled and stood to greet him with a half-hug. “Takes more than angry moneybags and cheap threats to shake me.”

Lucas dropped the lunch bag on a dusty table nearby and pulled out a chair, plopping down with the ease of someone who didn’t care about getting dirt on his slacks. “I got here thirty minutes ago,” he said, undoing the bag’s flap. “Parked across the street. Saw everything. Heard enough too.”

Ethan exhaled deeply and sat beside him, elbows resting on his knees. “So, you got front-row seats to another episode of ‘Martin Throws a Tantrum.’ Lucky you.”

Lucas opened the lunch box and handed Ethan a wrapped sandwich. “He came again to ask you to divorce Helena, huh?”

Ethan gave a tired smile and nodded. “That obvious?”

Lucas smirked. “You mean apart from him grabbing your collar like you stole his inheritance? Yeah, pretty obvious.”

For a moment, they didn’t say anything. The sound of tools and distant traffic came through the open shop door. Then Lucas leaned back and said casually, “You know, you and Helena have been married for two years, and I still don’t get why she married you.”

Ethan gave a soft, half-laugh, full of both affection and a little irony. “Me neither,” he said, his eyes drifting to a corner of the shop.

He started thinking back to how it all began. Helena, the proud daughter of the powerful Rodriguez family, had shown up at his shop one rainy afternoon in a shiny silver car. She had a cold look and a sharp tone. She didn’t seem like the kind of person who belonged in a place like his. She looked like royalty who’d taken a wrong turn. But her car needed repairs, and Ethan did the job—quietly and perfectly. No chit-chat. Just work. She paid him and left.

A week later, she came back, this time in another fancy car, but it wasn’t broken. With all the confidence of someone used to getting her way, she simply asked him to marry her. Ethan had been shocked. But he had fallen for her the moment she first walked in, so he didn’t ask questions. He didn’t care why someone like her would ask someone like him.

He just said yes.

Lucas nudged him with an elbow. “Oi. Earth to Ethan.”

Ethan blinked, snapping out of the memory. He turned to find Lucas grinning. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

Ethan sighed and leaned back, the old chair creaking under him. “She married me to piss off her parents,” he said finally, his voice quiet.

Lucas’s smile froze. “What?”

Ethan looked down at his half-unwrapped sandwich, then shrugged. “Yeah. That’s the reason.”

Lucas stared at him for a second, eyes wide with disbelief. “Are you serious?”

“She told me herself,” Ethan continued. “Said she was sick of living like a puppet. Always doing what they wanted. Always being perfect. Obedient. Submissive. She wanted to burn it all down, so she picked the one guy they’d never approve of.” He gave a short, bitter laugh. “Me.”

Lucas leaned back with a low whistle. “Well, she really did piss them off. Everyone knows how much the Rodriguez family hates your guts.”

Ethan burst into laughter, and Lucas joined him. The sound filled the quiet street, two friends caught between the absurdity and tragedy of it all.

“Guess I should be flattered,” Ethan chuckled. “She chose the perfect disappointment.”

“Damn right,” Lucas said with a grin. “You’re the best disappointment I know.”

They sat there for a while, chewing on their sandwiches in silence, letting the laughter fade into something gentler.

Lucas checked his watch mid-bite, eyes narrowing. Then he sighed heavily and rose to his feet. “Damn,” he muttered, brushing sandwich crumbs off his shirt. “Lunch break’s almost over. I gotta get back before your new favorite person fires me.”

Ethan chuckled quietly, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Thanks for stopping by, man. Seriously.”

Lucas gave him a firm pat on the shoulder and picked up the empty lunch bag. “Always,” he said, flashing a half-smile before heading toward the shop door. “Try not to punch Martin in the face while I’m gone. Or do. Actually, do. Just wait till I’m off the payroll.”

Ethan watched as his best friend walked off down the street, the sound of his polished shoes fading slowly into the hum of the city. He leaned back in his creaky chair again, letting it tilt against the wall, and stared into the open garage bay. The afternoon sunlight spilled in, warm but indifferent. He chewed the last bit of his sandwich slowly, but his appetite had vanished.

His thoughts started to drift—back to Helena.

She didn’t love him.

That much had been obvious from day one. She had married him with fire in her eyes, but none of it had been for him. He, unfortunately, had fallen for her. Fallen hard. Every quiet glance, every brief moment of her gaze softening—even if it wasn’t love, he’d treasured it. And now?

Now he was just a placeholder. A wall between her and the future others were trying to force on her.

He sighed deeply.

What was the point of holding on? Would letting her go be the right thing? Would that make her happy?

He dropped his gaze to the dusty floor. All the memories he had of love, of belonging, were paper-thin.

No parents.

No siblings.

Just… an orphanage.

He remembered cold winter nights in the shared dormitory, the smell of cheap disinfectant, and the taste of watered-down soup. He remembered birthdays that no one celebrated. He remembered standing by the front window, year after year, waiting—hoping—to be picked. But no one ever came.

By the time he was eighteen, he was alone. Kicked out with a garbage bag of clothes and no clue what to do next. He lived on the streets for a while, picking scraps, doing odd jobs—until one day, a kind old mechanic let him sweep the floors of his garage. Ethan learned by watching. Fixing things became his life. Cars didn’t leave. Engines didn’t betray you. Grease and bolts—they were his world.

A single tear slid down his cheek.

He blinked hard and quickly wiped it away with the back of his hand, sighing long and low. He then exhaled a shaky breath and dropped his gaze to his oil-smeared fingers, just as the sudden sound of rumbling engines snapped him out of the haze.

Ethan’s brow furrowed. He sat up straight in his chair. The sound was growing louder—closer. He stood and walked briskly to the open bay.

His eyes widened in shock.

A convoy of heavy vehicles—tractors, bulldozers, construction trucks—were barreling down the narrow street, heading directly for his shop.

“What the hell…?” he muttered, stepping outside into the sunlight.

Dust rose as tires screeched to a stop just a few feet from his shop’s entrance. One of the bulldozers roared, its engine coughing smoke like a monster clearing its throat. Then, from a sleek black SUV parked behind them, a man stepped out.

He wore a sharp, expensive suit and dark sunglasses. His face was hard, clean-shaven, his jaw tight with irritation. He didn’t say hello. Didn’t ask for Ethan’s name. Just walked up and shoved a paper against his chest.

“What is this?” Ethan asked, scanning the document as quickly as he could.

“NOTICE OF IMMEDIATE DEMOLITION — Pursuant to Municipal Code 17.94.3, this property is deemed as unlawfully occupied on government-owned land. All structures are to be removed effective immediately.”

His mouth went dry.

“What the hell is this? What’s going on?” he asked, voice sharp with disbelief.

The man gave him a condescending look, lips curling in distaste. “What does it look like, genius? You’re on government property. This land’s being cleared. Orders came down this morning. This building’s coming down today.”

Ethan stepped forward, frustration rising. “This shop has been here for years. I’ve been working here for almost a decade!”

The man scoffed, clearly not interested in the details. “Yeah? Well, the government just updated the zoning claims on this block. And someone up there decided this place needs to go. Now, unless you want to be under one of those bulldozers, I suggest you pack up and move—fast.”

As the man turned on his heel and walked away, Ethan stood frozen, fists clenched at his sides, eyes flickering from the paper in his hand to the roaring engines around him.

Something wasn’t right. This wasn’t just the government. And deep down, he knew exactly whose hand was behind this.

“That bastard Martin,” he cursed under his breath as he squeezed the paper in his hand angrily.