Underestimated: The Rise of Ethan Cole

Chapter 2

Chapter Two

The black-gold card gleamed in Ethan's hand—sleek, heavy, deceptively simple.

"One hundred million dollars," the warden said quietly. "There are only five of these in all of Boston."

Ethan turned it over, watching light catch the gold edges. That kind of money could reshape industries, topple empires, build new ones from nothing.

His gaze shifted to the Phoenix Ring on his finger.

Dark metal, almost black, with a phoenix carved so precisely each feather seemed ready to ignite. But it wasn't the craftsmanship that mattered—it was what the ring represented.

"The Phoenix Ring," the warden continued, reverence heavy in his voice, "grants you access to the former Chairman's entire network. His people in Boston, his allies in East Coast politics, his partners in West Coast business circles..." He paused. "And his reach into the underground world."

Ethan stared at the ring. This was power. Real power.

For a moment, he considered going back inside to thank the Chairman in person.

"The Chairman anticipated this, Sir Ethan," the warden said respectfully, reading his expression. "He told me to tell you—the gifts have already been given. There's no need for a special visit. You should focus on your own affairs now."

Ethan frowned.

Why?

The question gnawed at him. The Chairman had just handed him a fortune and a symbol of immense influence. But symbols weren't the same as actual power. The ring was a key, yes—but the doors it opened, the people it commanded, those would need to be earned.

So why give it to him? An outcast. Someone who'd walked away from his own family's power in Washington. Someone who'd chosen a quiet life over ambition.

Before he could dwell on it, the warden suddenly dropped to his knees.

Ethan's gaze sharpened.

The warden—the man who'd commanded this prison for decades, who made hardened criminals bow their heads—was kneeling before him.

For two years, Ethan had lived in this prison not as a convict, but as something closer to a young master. The warden had been exceptionally deferential, ensuring Ethan wanted for nothing. Not out of kindness, but because the warden was the Chairman's man, and the Chairman had taken an interest in Ethan.

No one in this prison had dared cross him.

And now, the warden was begging.

Ethan said nothing. He let the silence stretch, watching sweat bead on the man's forehead.

"Sir Ethan," the warden said, voice trembling. "Please... save my daughter."

Ethan's expression didn't change. "Explain."

"She runs B Corporation in Boston," the warden said quickly. "One of the city's three major monopolistic enterprises. She's... exceptional. Beautiful. Accomplished." His voice cracked. "But recently, she's been targeted. Someone powerful—someone from outside Boston, from a higher city—has made moves against her business. I don't know all the details, but her company is in crisis. Competitors are circling like vultures, waiting for her to fall."

The warden's hands shook. "I can't protect her. The Chairman has stepped back. But you—" He gestured at the ring. "With the Phoenix Ring, you have the authority now. Please, Sir Ethan. Help her."

Ethan studied him carefully.

He understood immediately. The Chairman had given him a symbol of power, but this was the test—the door opening to claim that power for real. And the warden? He wasn't just asking for help. He was trying to push his beautiful, accomplished daughter into Ethan's path.

A matchmaking attempt, thinly veiled as a business crisis.

Ethan had just divorced. The last thing he wanted was another romantic entanglement.

But he also understood opportunity when he saw it.

B Corporation was one of Boston's top three enterprises. Helping the warden's daughter would establish Ethan's influence immediately. It would show the Chairman's network that he was worthy of the ring. And it would give him a foothold in Boston's elite circles—something he'd need if he was going to reclaim the power he'd once walked away from.

The warden had also been loyal. Deferential. Useful.

Ethan let the silence linger a moment longer, then spoke.

"Stand up."

The warden obeyed instantly, relief flooding his face.

"Tell me about her," Ethan said coolly.

"Her name is Victoria Chen. She's the CEO and primary shareholder of B Corporation. The company specializes in real estate development, luxury goods distribution, and high-end hospitality. She's old money—our family has been influential in Boston for generations." The warden hesitated. "But recently, someone from a higher-tier city got involved. I don't know the full story, but after she refused... certain advances... her business suddenly fell into crisis. Competitors who once respected her are now testing her weaknesses."

Ethan's jaw tightened. Old money. Real influence. And someone more powerful had tried to claim her.

"Where can I find her?"

"B Corporation headquarters. Downtown, near the financial district."

Ethan slid the black-gold card into his pocket. "I'll handle it."

The warden bowed deeply. "Thank you, Sir Ethan. Thank you."

Ethan turned and walked away without another word.

The power the Chairman had given him was symbolic. Now it was time to make it real.

---

Meanwhile, across Boston...

Sarah practically floated into Drake Hastings’ penthouse, her laughter echoing off marble and glass. Divorce papers—signed, sealed, freedom delivered.

Drake lounged on the leather sofa, swirling whiskey in a crystal glass. He glanced up as she entered, one eyebrow raised.

“It’s done,” Sarah announced, dropping her handbag onto the table. “He’s out of my life for good.”

Drake’s smirk was slow, cruel. “Good girl. I was starting to think you’d go soft.” He tugged her onto his lap, hands sliding possessively along her waist. “That washed-up freeloader was dragging you down. Now you’re exactly where you belong.”

Sarah smiled—too wide, too eager. “He means nothing to me anymore.”

Drake chuckled, low and self-satisfied. “I like hearing that. Which is why I’m rewarding you.”

Her eyes lit up instantly. “Rewarding me?”

He set down his glass. “I’ve got a meeting this afternoon—B Corporation. Victoria Chen herself is opening new partnerships. You’ll come with me. It’ll be good publicity… for us.”

Sarah froze. “B Corporation?” Her heart skipped. That was huge. “Drake, that’s—”

He smirked. “Top-tier. I know. Their influence makes my family look provincial. And if I get this deal, my name—our name—will hit every business page in the country.”

Sarah’s excitement drowned out everything else.

Ethan could never give her this. Not in his lifetime. Not even if he hadn’t gone to prison.

She leaned closer, voice dripping sugar. “When do we leave?”

“Two p.m. sharp.”

“I’ll be ready,” she said quickly.

Drake’s hand traced her jaw, his tone turning mocking. “You’d better be. We don’t want them thinking I’m dragging around some emotional ex-wife still crying over her loser husband.”

Sarah forced a laugh, though her pride stung. “Please. I barely remember his face.”

“Good,” Drake said smoothly. “Keep it that way.”

---

The car pulled up to B Corporation's glass tower shortly after lunch. Sarah adjusted her blouse, pulse quickening as they stepped inside.

Marble floors. Crystal chandeliers. The scent of expensive cologne and ambition.

They approached the reception desk.

"Drake Hastings," Drake said smoothly, handing over his card. "I have an appointment with CEO Chen."

The receptionist typed quickly. "Yes, Mr. Hastings. You're early. Please wait in the lounge area. Someone will escort you shortly."

Drake nodded, already turning toward the waiting area. Sarah followed, scanning the space.

Then Drake stopped dead, and Sarah nearly stumbled, still clinging to his arm.

"What the hell," he said loudly.

"What’s wrong?" Sarah whispered, alarmed.

“Bad luck,” Drake said darkly. “Of all people…” Drake's face twisted in disgust as his eyes locked on someone across the lobby.

Sarah followed his gaze—and her stomach dropped.

Ethan.

Sitting in one of the leather chairs, legs crossed, flipping casually through a magazine. He was dressed simply—nothing flashy, nothing expensive—but he looked... calm. Unbothered.

He looked completely out of place in his simple clothes.

“What the—” Sarah hissed. “Are you kidding me?” She stormed ahead before Drake could stop her.

"Ethan!" Her voice rang out, sharp and accusing. "What are you doing here?"

Ethan looked up slowly. For a split second, something dark flickered in his eyes—cold, controlled rage, a hatred so tightly leashed it was almost invisible.

Then it vanished, replaced by cool indifference.

"Sarah," he said flatly. "Drake."

"Don't 'Sarah' me!" she snapped, planting her hands on her hips. "How did someone with a criminal record like you even get past security? This is B Corporation! Do you have any idea how exclusive this place is?"

Drake folded his arms, sneering. "You've got guts showing up here. Shouldn't you be... I don't know, looking for a homeless shelter?"

Ethan's gaze slid over them both—cold, assessing, utterly unbothered.

"I'm here on business," he said calmly.

Sarah let out a harsh laugh. "Business? You?" She gestured wildly. "You just got out of prison this morning! You don't even have a job!"

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Wait..." Realization dawned, twisted and smug. "Did you follow me here?"

Drake scoffed. "Of course he did. Look at him—sitting here like a lost puppy, hoping you'd show up so he could beg you to take him back."

Sarah's voice rose, drawing stares. "Unbelievable! You followed me here thinking we could reconcile? You actually thought—" She laughed, loud and cruel. "Let me make this crystal clear, Ethan. We are done. Finished. You mean nothing in this city. There is nothing left between us!"