62


    I settled back into the sofa, calmly preparing a cup of tea from the president’s personal collection. The ritual brought me a peculiarfort–the measured movements, the control, the precision. The porcin clinked softly as <b>I </b>stirred in a touch of honey, the sound delicate against the backdrop of Megan’s stifled sobs.


    Ethan approached, his footsteps silent on the thick carpet. He took the teapot from my hands with surprising gentleness<b>. </b>“I’m ttered you’d contact me over something so trivial,” he said, pouring the steaming liquid with practiced ease. The scent of Earl Grey wafted between us.


    I epted the cup he offered, our fingers brushing momentarily. His skin was warm against mine. “The luggage was your purchase. It seemed appropriate.”


    Across the room, Megan’s father was now practically genuflecting before Ethan. Sweat stained the underarms of his expensive suit, and his hands trembled as he gestured emphatically. “Mr. Haxton, please ept my sincere apologies for my daughter’s behavior. I’ve clearly failed as a parent.” His voice wavered between professional smoothness and


    naked terror.


    Ethan barely spared him a nce, his attention fixed on me with an intensity that might have unnerved someone else. “You’ve misunderstood. Your daughter owes Miss Morgan an apology, not me.”


    “Of course, of course!” Mr. Hayes nodded frantically, pushing Megan forward with such force she nearly stumbled. He mped his hand on the back of her neck and forced her head down in an awkward bow. “Apologize immediately!”


    Megan’s face contorted with humiliation and rage, a storm of emotions transforming her pretty features into something almost grotesque. Her father’s grip on her neck left no room for argument. “I’m sorry,” she muttered through clenched teeth.


    I took a slow sip of tea, savoring both its bergamot notes and the spectacle before me. Power shifts were always fascinating to witness–especially when you were the catalyst.


    Ethan turned to me, his eyebrows raised slightly. “So, to rify–they confiscated your advanced medicalpounds? The ones specifically designed to save lives in emergency situations?<b>” </b>


    The department chair’s face went from pale to ashen, a sickly gray color spreading across his features. The medical kit suddenly seemed to burn in his hands, and he unconsciously loosened his grip as though afraid it might explode.


    “And they damaged the luggage <b>I </b>bought for you?” Ethan continued, his voice deceptively casual. To anyone else, he might have sounded merely curious, but I caught the dangerous undercurrent,


    “They broke the lock trying to get in,” I confirmed, running a finger along the rim of my teacup. “And spilled my


    wine.”


    “My <bst </b>bottle. Nothing special–only worth about two point three million dors.” I delivered the line with perfect nonchnce.


    <b>12:25 </b>Mon, Sep 22


    Mr. Hayes made a choking sound, somewhere between a gasp and a sob. “T–two million? I’ll pay for it. All of it.” Desperation colored every word as his entrepreneurial mind calcted the blow to his finances.


    I shrugged, the gesture deliberately dismissive. “Pay for what? The wine? It was a collector’s item.” I set my teacup down with deliberate precision.


    62


    “I’ll–I’ll pay whateverpensation you require,” he stammered, his hands sped together so tightly his knuckles showed white.


    “Ten times the value,” I said tly. “Not a penny less.” My eyes locked with his, and whatever he saw there made him take an involuntary step back.


    Mr. Hayes nodded frantically, beads of sweat rolling down his temples. “Of course<b>, </b>of course. I’ll have the money


    transferredter.”


    I suppressed a smile. “You should consider yourself lucky. The expensive bottles were already consumed. This was the cheapest one in my collection.”


    Ethan turned to me, amusement ying at the corners of his mouth. “And the luggage?”


    “How much did it cost?” I asked him, knowing full well it was a custom piece with no public price tag.


    He waved his hand dismissively, gold cufflinks catching the light. “I don’t recall. Let Mr. Hayes use his best


    judgment.”


    I nearlyughed at the panic that shed across Hayes‘ face. What looked like mercy to outsiders was actually far crueler–the man would likely bankrupt all four of hispanies trying topensate adequately for a luggage set


    whose value he couldn’t even guess.


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