Ethan stood near the counter, giving her privacy.
He had witnessed people cry in boardrooms after losing fortunes. He had watched executives break down when deals collapsed and investors panicked.
This was different.
Clara wasn’t crying because she had lost money.
She was crying because, for the first time in days, she could see her daughter being fed without having to wonder how she would manage the next bottle.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “I thought I was messaging Mrs. Evelyn. I didn’t mean to involve anyone else.”
“I know.”
“The number must have changed.”
“It did. I got it when I changed phones and transferred my business number to my personal device. I should have checked the old messages before responding.”
Clara looked up.
“You have a business number for your personal phone?”
Ethan almost smiled.
“Occupational hazard.”
For the first time that night, she let out a small, exhausted laugh.
