He looked different than she’d expected a billionaire to look. She knew who he was. Everyone in finance knew Ethan Mercer. Magazine covers, perfectly tailored suits, settings that screamed money and power. But here in her crumbling apartment, he looked almost human. His coat was expensive, yes, but he’d unbuttoned it and pushed up the sleeves.
His hair was slightly disheveled, and his eyes held something she hadn’t expected. Loneliness. She recognized it because she saw it in her own mirror every day. “You didn’t have to do this,” Clara said finally. “I asked for $50.” “I know. You also apologized four times in three sentences.” Clara flushed. “I don’t usually.
I’ve never asked for help like that. What happened?” His voice was gentle, not demanding. She could have refused, but something about him, his calmness, his lack of judgment made her want to tell the truth. I got fired 3 months ago from Harmon Financial. She tested whether the name registered. If it did, he didn’t show it. I was an accountant and I found something in the books.
Transactions that didn’t make sense. Small, but a lot of them. Money going to vendors that didn’t seem to exist. Ethan’s posture shifted slightly. Attentive, I asked my supervisor about it. Just a question. A week later, they called me into HR. Position eliminated. They took my laptop before I could save anything. And you were really looking.
It’s my job. Was my job. Clara adjusted. Lily, the numbers stick in my head. They always have. Ethan was quiet for a long moment. Harmon Financial Services. I know that company. They’re a partner on several projects I’m involved with, including a charitable foundation. Clara looked up sharply. What foundation? Hope.
