“How much formula do you have left?” he typed.
The answer came almost immediately.
“None. I was hoping to get some tomorrow, but she woke up hungry. I don’t have anything until Friday.”
Ethan’s jaw tightened.
“What’s your address? I’ll arrange for someone to bring supplies.”
She hesitated.
“I don’t know you.”
“That is a fair point,” he replied. “My name is Ethan. I can send the delivery through a pharmacy or grocery service. You don’t have to let me into your apartment or give me any personal information beyond what the delivery requires.”
For several seconds, there was no response.
Then Clara sent the address.
Ethan passed it to his assistant, Daniel, with instructions to locate an open pharmacy and a nearby grocery store.
“Get infant formula suitable for an eight-month-old, baby food, diapers, and groceries,” he said. “Call the stores first. Make sure the formula is appropriate, and don’t substitute anything without checking with the mother. If delivery isn’t possible tonight, I’ll take it myself.”
