Ethan Storm’s Dark Awakening

2

The woman’s heels clicked softly on the pavement as she stepped toward Ethan. Her posture was poised, elegant, and she moved with the grace of someone accustomed to commanding attention, yet there was a subtle shift in her expression—a quiet respect that softened her otherwise regal stance.

As she approached, she lowered her gaze briefly before meeting Ethan’s eyes. Her voice, when she spoke, was calm but laced with sincerity.

“Excuse me, Sir,” she said again, her tone not demanding, but genuine—an invitation, almost a plea.

Ethan narrowed his eyes. “Can I help you?”

She stopped two feet away. No closer. No sudden movements. Smart.

“My name is Alice Morgan. CEO of MorganTech,” she said, voice clipped but polite. “I… I’m here to beg for your help…”

MorganTech. The very name that made Sierra grind her teeth. The rival company Sierra loathed more than any other.

His jaw flexed. “Is that so?”

“I know you’re an important member of Nova Corp,” she continued, tone unwavering.

Ethan raised a brow. The irony wasn’t lost on him. Even Alice, who had no relationship with him, knew that he was connected to Nova Pact.

But his wife had not a clue.

He’d never exactly hidden who he was, but people like Sierra never looked deeper than what suited them. She never asked. She never cared.

Hands shoved into his coat pockets, he shifted slightly as the night wind nipped at his face. “And what do you want?”

Alice’s smile faltered for a second, then steadied.

“I came to extend an invitation. To you and Sierra. Dinner. Somewhere neutral. I want to put an end to the… hostility. Between her and me. Between our companies.”

“No,” Ethan replied instantly.

She blinked. “You didn’t even think about it.”

“We divorced. If you want to solve the problem, go find Sierra.” Ethan’s voice was cold.

Divorce?

Alice was stunned. According to her investigation, Ethan had attended several Nova Corp events as a VIP guest—there was no way he was just an ordinary man!

Sierra must have lost her mind if she was divorcing Ethan!

“Wait, Mr. Storm! I’m not here to see Sierra! I came to talk to you!” She called out anxiously. “I know Sierra’s success has everything to do with you!”

“Don’t follow me. I’m not interested in your business rivalries,” Ethan replied coolly, waving down a cab without even glancing back.

“Sir!” Alice tried again, desperation rising in her voice.

But Ethan didn’t give her the chance.

The door slammed shut behind him, and the taxi pulled away, leaving Alice standing there, speechless and frustrated.

She stood there for two seconds before muttering under her breath.

“Stubborn fool!” Her fingers curled around her car keys as she turned briskly on her heel and strode toward her black SUV parked nearby.

She slid into the driver’s seat, started the engine, and pulled into traffic, eyes locked on the taxi a few car lengths ahead.

“Really thought I’d let you run off that easy?” she muttered under her breath, switching lanes to keep up.

—

The taxi stopped in front of a tavern. Ethan, feeling frustrated, just wanted a drink to relax—but the woman behind him refused to leave him alone.

Alice quickly got out of the car as well, following Ethan into the bar. Ethan was helpless, but since she hadn’t done anything inappropriate, he couldn’t bring himself to drive her away—he was a gentleman, after all.

He casually ordered a drink and asked indifferently, “So, you followed me all the way here. What is it that you really want?”

The drinks arrived. Alice took a long sip from hers before setting the glass down with a gentle clink. Her tone shifted—lower, heavier.

“My father’s pushing me to marry Carl Irving.”

Ethan’s brow twitched, just slightly. “Who’s he?”

“You don’t know him?” Alice looked surprised. “The heir of the Irving family. A 200-pound slob with a reputation worse than you can imagine. He’s been involved with over a hundred women—some willing, many not…”

Ethan raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like absolute scum. So why would your family want you to marry him?”

“Pure interest,” Alice replied bitterly. “My grandfather adored me when she was alive. She gave me control of the family business. But after she passed, my parents always favored my younger brother. They’ve been scheming to transfer my inheritance to him.”

“My brother’s a spoiled brat. He doesn’t know the first thing about running a company, but they’re determined to hand everything over to him.”

“They don’t care about me,” Alice continued, her voice low and bitter. “All they think about is if I marry Carl, we’ll gain the Irving family’s support. And with that, my brother’s position in the family becomes even more secure…”

“That’s why I’ve been trying to secure a partnership with Nova Corp. If I expand FrostTech—then Carl’s deal becomes irrelevant. They’ll stop seeing me as a pawn and start seeing me as the prize.”

Ethan leaned back, unmoved. “So you want my help?”

“I want a strategic partnership. Maybe a merger. You have what I need—global infrastructure, black market logistics, tech distribution networks. I’ve got the software your company hasn’t even begun to dream of. We combine forces, and we cut the Irving family out of the equation. For good.”

She let out a dry laugh, but it clearly masked a deep sadness.

“And what made you think of coming to me? Why do you think I could help you?” Ethan asked, his tone casual but curious.

“It was my grandfather,” Alice said softly. “Before he passed, she gave me your name. Told me that if I was ever in trouble, I should come to you.”

“After that, I looked into you. I saw that you were married—secretly—to my rival, Sierra. On the surface, you looked weak. But you showed up at several major Nova Corp events as a VIP…”

“I figured that you might be the person who could help me.”

Ethan arched a brow. “Your grandfather knew me? What was his name?”

“Robert. Robert Morgan .”

Ethan froze.

Robert Morgan.

Of course, it was him.

He fell silent for a moment, memories flashing through his mind. Robert had helped him during one of the hardest times of his life. He’d once confided in him about the power he held behind the scenes.

It seemed… now was the time to repay that favor.

Ethan opened his mouth, just about to say yes, when a drunk man appeared.

He stumbled toward their table. Tall, sloppy, with greasy hair and a gold chain that caught too much light. His shirt was half-buttoned and stained, reeking of sweat and booze.

“Hellooo, gorgeous,” he slurred, flashing yellowed teeth. “You lookin’ lonely. Wanna make some room for me?”

Alice didn’t blink. “I’m busy.”

He leered. “C’mon now. Don’t play hard to get. What’s a night with you cost? Bet you’re worth top dollar.”

Ethan’s jaw flexed.

Alice eyes narrowed into ice. “Back. Off.”

The drunk leaned in, breath rancid. “Didn’t hear a no, sweetheart. You’re playin’ with me, huh?”

His hand moved toward her arm.

She slapped it away, steel in her voice. “Touch me again, and I’ll make sure you never touch anything again.”

He laughed. “Feisty. I like that.”

He lunged.

Ethan stood.

“Let. Go.” His voice was quiet—eerily quiet.

The man turned. “Mind your own business!”

Ethan didn’t answer. He moved like a shadow—fast, fluid, merciless.

In one clean motion, he twisted the man’s wrist, bent his arm behind his back, and slammed him face-first into the bar counter.

Heads turned.

The bartender barely looked up.

The thug screamed. “You psycho!”

Ethan leaned in, his voice like ice cracking.

“Apologize. Then crawl back to whatever sewer you came from.”

He released him. The man staggered back, eyes wide, nose bleeding, wheezing through pain and disbelief.

“You messed up, man,” he growled. “You really messed up. My brother’s gonna find you. And when he does—you’re finished.”

“Your brother?” Ethan said mildly. “Should I care?”

Someone at the bar gasped.

“Wait—ain’t that Knox Wilder’s little brother? That Knox Wilder? The guy who runs the whole east district?”

“Shit. We need to go. Now. This place is about to blow.”

Patrons started clearing out in a hurry, ducking their heads, grabbing coats and drinks as they scurried to the exits.

The thug grinned through blood. “Now you get it, don’t you? My brother’s gonna rip you apart. And then? I’ll take your girl right in front of you. You’ll beg me to stop.”

Ethan took a step forward.

He grabbed the man by the hair, yanking his head up.

“I told you,” he said coldly. “I don’t care who your brother is. Because no one—not him, not you—is stronger than me.”

The doors of the bar slammed open with a bang.

A tall man stepped in. Confident stride. Black boots. Charcoal suit, unbuttoned. Slicked-back hair and a crooked grin that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Well, well,” he said, voice rich with mockery. “Been a while since someone had the balls to make a mess on my turf.”

He scanned the room slowly, then locked eyes with the man bleeding by the bar.

“Lift your head,” he drawled. “Let’s see who’s foolish enough to lay hands on my blood.”

Knox Wilder had arrived.