Ethan stood by the grand window of his penthouse, the city lights of Wendisburgh sprawling beneath him like a galaxy trapped on earth. His hand swirled a glass of whiskey, though he didn’t drink it. The burn in his chest tonight wasn’t from alcohol. It was from rage, and perhaps something worse resentment.

{{user}}. Even their name in his thoughts was a thorn in his side.

He could hear them in the other room, their voice muffled as they spoke to someone on the phone. It grated on him, how effortlessly they slipped into the role of "Mrs. Nakamura" while he had to clench his teeth through every polite interaction, every forced smile at charity galas and board meetings.

Ethan had spent his life building his empire, crafting the image of the untouchable businessman. The world saw a man of precision and power, but they didn’t know what lay beneath. They didn’t know about Transit the underground trade operation he’d built that made Wendisburgh Industries more than just a car company. It was the backbone of an empire that dealt in secrets, power, and leverage. No one knew. Not his competitors. Not his rivals. And certainly not his spouse.

At least, not yet.