"Have you met Dr. Ayla to warn her?" he asked suddenly, his voice sounding dangerously cold.
Connor quickly shook his head. "Not yet, Sir. I wanted to report everything to you first. I've ensured that all relevant CCTV footage has been deleted from the hotel system. However, I made sure to keep an original copy of the file here." He pointed to a small flash drive on the desk. "Just in case, Sir."
Ethan grabbed the flash drive, weighing it in his hand as if considering a decision far heavier than the drive itself. Deep inside, a growing discomfort gnawed at him. It wasn't just about his reputation. There was something about that woman, Ayla Winter, that made it hard for him to look away.
He tapped the flash drive once again against the desk, then locked eyes with Connor in a stare that would send shivers down anyone's spine.
"Make sure there's no leak of information. To anyone. Not even the hotel staff, not even my wife." His voice was as cold and sharp as a blade.
"Understood, Sir. I'll handle everything carefully," Connor responded quickly.
"One more thing, keep an eye on Ayla's movements and report anything about her. Make sure she doesn't speak to anyone!" Ethan ordered firmly.
"Understood, Sir," Connor replied.
Ethan leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes for a moment. There was one question that haunted him more than any other: What if Ayla didn't know anything? What if she was as innocent as him, just played by the circumstances?
That question echoed loudly in his mind, stirring the human side of him that rarely appeared. He knew one thing for sure, if this situation wasn't handled well, it could ruin his career, his reputation, even his entire life.
But for reasons he couldn't explain to himself, Ethan couldn't just let this go. He had to meet Ayla. He had to see it for himself. Not just to secure his position. But also because, for some inexplicable reason, he couldn't ignore her.
Ethan opened his eyes slowly, then said, "Set up a meeting with her. But make it look like a purely professional matter. I want to meet her. Soon."
Connor bowed respectfully. "I'll arrange it, Sir."
As the door to his office closed again, Ethan looked at the flash drive once more. Something had changed inside him, though it was subtle. That night might have been a mistake. But there were mistakes that were too deep to simply ignore. And Ethan knew, from this moment on, his life would never be the same again.
In her luxurious apartment, Sienna Blake pressed the phone screen repeatedly, growing increasingly restless. The dial tone rang, but there was no answer. The man, the one she had paid for that night had disappeared.
Sienna growled in frustration, throwing her phone onto the sofa. It had been a week since the incident at the hotel, and she should have already gotten what she wanted: compromising photos of Ayla to ruin her reputation. But so far, nothing.
She sent another short message. "Where are the photos? I paid a lot. Don't mess with me."
Again, no response. No read receipts.
Sienna paced back and forth, her mind racing with possibilities. Maybe the man had run off with her money, or maybe something had gone wrong that night?
Doubt started to gnaw at her. Did the man really get into Ayla's room? Did her trap work? There was no proof. No photos. No certainty. And what frustrated Sienna the most was that she had no idea the person who entered Ayla's room that night wasn't her hired man, but Ethan Calloway.
Days passed since the incident. Ayla Winters continued with her life, at least on the surface. She spent her mornings at the hospital, attending medical conferences, and doing research. She buried herself in work, refusing to think about that night.
In the hospital staff breakroom, Ayla Winters was nearly out of energy. The long hours at work had drained her body, her mind was foggy. As she was about to sit down, a man in formal attire approached her. His face was unfamiliar, but his confident stride gave away his self-assurance.
Without any small talk, the man placed an envelope on the table, directly in front of Ayla. She stared at the object, confused, before looking up at the man. "What is this, Sir?" she asked cautiously.
The man smiled slightly, polite but cold. "This is compensation for the incident a few weeks ago."
Ayla furrowed her brow, completely puzzled. "Compensation for what?"
His tone was flat. "I don't understand. This is the first time I've met you. And it seems there's nothing to compensate for."
The man—Connor—leaned forward slightly. His sharp eyes locked onto Ayla, applying subtle pressure. "Don't joke around, Doctor. You're a smart woman, I'm sure you understand what I mean."
Ayla sighed, feeling a throbbing ache in her head growing stronger. She had no energy to deal with a stranger who appeared out of nowhere, bringing an envelope with an empty check, speaking in cryptic, frustrating riddles.
With a decisive move, Ayla pushed the envelope back towards Connor. "I don't need a check. And it seems you have the wrong person," she said coldly, rising from her chair, ready to leave the room.
But her steps halted when Connor spoke again, his voice low but clear. "Hotel Saint Claire, room 1105, the night of the 23rd…"
Ayla froze. Her body stiffened where she stood. Slowly, she turned around. Her eyes locked onto Connor's in shock. "Who are you? What do you want?" she asked, her voice muffled, more out of shock than anger.
Connor merely smiled faintly, as if enjoying Ayla's shock. He pushed the envelope back onto the table, his voice calm yet carrying an unmistakable threat.
"This is compensation for that night. But make sure you don't tell anyone about it. Because if you do, we can accuse you of criminal actions: framing Ethan Calloway."
The words hit Ayla like a sledgehammer. She stared at Connor, her eyes wide with disbelief. Her mouth moved, searching for words, but none came out.
Ethan Calloway—the largest investor at the hospital where she worked. A man widely known for his social and charity work. A man who was married. There was no way, no way it could have been the married man who slept with her.