Ethan
A year changes a man more than he expects it to.
I stood in front of the mirror in my new penthouse, adjusting the cufflinks Eleanor had gifted me for tonight, and barely recognized the reflection looking back. Gone was the mechanic who used to scrub grease from under his nails every night before bed. In his place stood someone sharper, colder, fluent now in the languages of finance and power that had once felt as foreign to me as another planet.
The training program had stripped away every soft edge I used to have. Eighteen-hour days across three continents, mentors who corrected my posture as often as my spreadsheets, executives who tested me at every turn to see if the lost son would c***k under pressure. I hadn't cracked. I'd hardened instead, the way metal does when you heat
