The Morgan Group’s boardroom was more imposing than I had imagined. A massive oak table surrounded by over a dozen directors, each with a meticulously prepared folder in front of them. I sat in an observer’s seat in the corner, trying to make myself inconspicuous, but when William Morgan entered the room, all eyes turned to him.

William was more imposing in person than in photographs. He shared Ethan’s features, but his eyes lacked warmth, replaced by calculation. As he scanned the room, his gaze lingered on me for a second before casually moving on. But my attention was quickly drawn to the person behind him—Ethan. Today he wore a navy suit that made his eyes appear even deeper. When his gaze swept across the room and inadvertently met mine, I felt a familiar electric current run through my body.


“Good morning, everyone,” his voice was deep and commanding. “I’m pleased to be back in New York and to see the company thriving under my son’s leadership.”

The meeting proceeded smoothly until the agenda turned to new investment strategies for the Asian market.

“I find this risk assessment overly cautious,” William suddenly said, pointing at the report I had submitted. “We should be more aggressive. Market volatility is opportunity.”


The room fell silent. No one dared to openly oppose William Morgan’s opinion.

“Actually,” I heard my own voice speak up, “the data shows that volatility in Asian markets has been systematically underestimated. If we enter as originally planned, we’ll face risks beyond our projections.”


Everyone turned toward me, including William. His gaze sharpened.

“And you are?” he asked, though he clearly knew.

“Olivia Reed, the new risk analyst,” I met his eyes directly.

“Ms. Reed, you haven’t been with Morgan Group very long, have you?” His tone carried a hint of contempt. “Some risks can’t be quantified by data. Experience trumps models.”

“Father,” Ethan calmly interjected, “Ms. Reed’s analysis is highly professional. I believe we should seriously consider her recommendations.”

William glanced at his son, then smiled slightly. “Of course, we always welcome different perspectives. However, final decisions must be based on comprehensive considerations.”

The meeting continued, but I could feel William’s gaze falling on me from time to time, as if assessing a potential threat.

After the meeting, I quickly gathered my documents to leave. Just as I turned, a hand gently touched my elbow.

“Olivia,” Ethan’s voice was deep and warm, close to my ear, “your analysis was brilliant.”

I turned to face him and found we were standing closer than I’d expected. The subtle scent of his cologne surrounded me.

“Just doing my job,” I stepped back half a pace, trying to reestablish professional distance, but my heartbeat had already betrayed my calm facade.

“Ms. Reed, might I have a word?” William’s voice was polite, but his eyes were as cold as the deep sea.

I glanced at Ethan, whose expression grew complex. “Be careful,” he murmured. But before turning away, his fingers lightly brushed the back of my hand, a touch as gentle as a feather yet leaving a burning imprint on my skin.

“We’ll talk another time,” he said, his voice so low it was almost a whisper.

I nodded and followed William into a small conference room, alarm bells ringing in my mind. The moment the door closed, the air grew heavy. Sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting striped shadows across William’s face, making his expression even harder to read. I couldn’t help but recall that rainy night eight years ago when this same man had told me in an icy voice that I wasn’t worthy of being part of the Morgan family, that I would ruin Ethan’s future.

“Eight years, Olivia.” His tone turned glacial. “I thought our agreement was clear.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mr. Morgan.” I maintained a professional smile. “I was hired as a risk analyst for your company.”

“Is that so?” he sneered. “You suddenly appear at my son’s company, just as I return to the country. That’s quite the coincidence.”

“The business world is full of coincidences,” I replied, neither submissive nor arrogant.

“Listen,” he stepped forward, lowering his voice, “I don’t know what you want, but if you think you can use Ethan to worm your way back into the Morgan family, you’re sorely mistaken. He’s engaged to a woman of suitable standing.”

“I have no interest in your son’s private life,” I looked directly into his eyes. “I’m only interested in my work.”

“I hope so,” he stepped back, resuming his business smile. “Because I’d hate to repeat our conversation from eight years ago. That wouldn’t benefit anyone, especially your… family.”

His implication made my heart race. Did he know about Leo’s existence?

“My family has nothing to do with my work,” I said coolly.

“Of course,” he nodded. “As long as you remember that, we’ll get along just fine.”

He turned and left, leaving me alone in the conference room, my heart pounding like thunder.

—

Back at my office, I immediately began investigating the Asian investment project William had mentioned. If he was so insistent on pushing it forward, something had to be off. I pulled up the transaction records from the past six months and discovered that before each major market fluctuation, there had been a series of small transactions from offshore accounts. While these trades appeared harmless individually, together they formed a complex pattern of manipulation.

“Found something?”

I looked up to see Sophie standing at my workstation. She wore a navy blue suit today, looking more serious than usual.

“Just routine analysis,” I answered cautiously, closing the sensitive files.

“Analyzing what?” She sat down, keeping her voice low. “William Morgan’s Asian investments?”

I eyed her warily. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I’m investigating the same thing,” her gaze sharpened, “but not as Morgan’s fiancée.” Sophie glanced around, then pulled a business card from her purse and handed it to me. I looked down to see the Financial Regulatory Authority emblem printed on it.

I stared at her in shock, momentarily at a loss for how to respond.

“Don’t worry, I’m not here to expose you,” she smiled slightly. “On the contrary, I think we could work together.”

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about,” I remained cautious.

“Olivia Reed, undercover agent for the Financial Crimes Investigation Unit,” she said softly. “And I’m Sophie Bennett, independent investigator for the Financial Regulatory Authority. Our goals align—to uncover the suspicious transactions within the Morgan Group.”

I neither confirmed nor denied it. “If you’re an investigator, why pretend to be Ethan’s fiancée?”

“Because William Morgan trusts family alliances through marriage,” she explained. “It’s the best way to get close to him. And Ethan knows my true identity—he’s cooperating with the investigation.”

This information stunned me. Ethan knew Sophie’s true identity? He was helping investigate his own father?

“Why tell me all this?” I asked.

“Because I’ve discovered Thompson is watching you,” her voice dropped even lower. “He has unusual connections with William. I suspect he’s interfering with your investigation.”

Thompson? My boss? Impossible. Yet this would explain why he showed unusual interest in certain areas of investigation while downplaying other suspicious points.

“Do you have evidence?”

“Nothing conclusive, but I’ve seen them meeting privately,” Sophie said. “And do you know who recommended you for this assignment? William Morgan.”

I felt a chill run through me. William recommended me? Why? To monitor me, or for some deeper purpose?

“I need time to process this information,” I finally said.

“Of course,” Sophie stood up. “But remember, in this building, you never know who’s a true ally and who’s an enemy. Be careful of Thompson, and be careful of William.”

After she left, I decided to verify her claims. I checked the company security system logs and discovered that Thompson had indeed entered the building multiple times during non-working hours, each time spending over an hour in William’s private office.

More disturbing still, I noticed an unfamiliar security guard frequently passing by my workstation, pretending to check equipment. After activating a counter-surveillance app, I discovered a listening device installed in the base of my desk lamp.

—

That evening, I returned home to the sweet aroma of butter and chocolate filling the air. Leo and Mrs. Chen were busy in the kitchen, flour scattered everywhere, but Leo’s beaming smile made it all worthwhile. Seeing him healthy and lively allowed my anxious heart to relax a little.

“Mom!” Leo spotted me and immediately ran over to hug my legs, his little hands still covered in flour, leaving white marks on my black skirt. He looked up, green eyes sparkling with excitement. “We’re making Captain Morgan cookies!”

I crouched down, gently stroking his soft black hair as warmth flooded my heart. “Captain Morgan cookies?”

“Yeah, shaped like his bear!” Leo pulled me by the hand toward the kitchen island, pointing at a row of variously shaped cookies, some vaguely resembling a bear’s outline. His voice suddenly turned expectant and shy. “Will Uncle Ethan like them?”

My smile froze at the mention of that name, my heart skipping a beat. “Why ask about Uncle Ethan?”

A mysterious expression I rarely saw appeared on Leo’s little face. “Because he called today to ask if I was feeling better.” He proudly puffed out his chest. “He said he loves cookies, especially chocolate ones. I told him I’d make the best cookies in the world for him!”

I turned to Mrs. Chen, struggling to control the tension in my voice. She wiped her hands somewhat embarrassedly. “I’m sorry, Ms. Reed. That Mr. Morgan called, saying he was your colleague and was concerned about Leo. He sounded very sincere, and Leo seemed to enjoy talking to him, so I…”

“It’s alright, Mrs. Chen,” I forced down my unease and managed a smile. “Thank you for looking after Leo.”

After seeing the nanny off, I sat in the kitchen watching Leo decorate his “Captain Morgan cookies” with intense concentration. His tiny tongue peeked out slightly, his brow furrowed as he immersed himself in his creation. This expression, this posture, was identical to Ethan’s when deep in thought. Every time I noticed these small similarities between Leo and Ethan, my heart clenched.

My phone vibrating interrupted my thoughts. It was a text from Thompson: “Need your detailed report tomorrow. Especially the section on William Morgan.”

Almost simultaneously, another message came in, this one from Ethan: “How are Leo’s cookies coming along? Hope he likes the chocolate recipe I suggested. Imagining him focused on baking—must be adorable.”

The two messages formed a stark contrast—one a cold command, the other warm concern. My fingers hovered over the screen, uncertain which to reply to first, or whether to reply at all. The intimacy in Ethan’s message made my heart race, that natural feeling that he was already becoming part of our lives was both warming and terrifying.

“Mom, try one!” Leo handed me a cookie with a crooked smiley face drawn on it.

I took a bite, the sweet flavor spreading through my mouth. “It’s delicious, baby.”

Leo’s face lit up with a radiant smile, then suddenly turned serious. “I want to save some for Uncle Ethan.” He carefully placed his most satisfactory cookies in a small box. “He said he’d come see me again. He will come, right, Mom?”

I looked at my son’s expectant eyes, my heart filled with mixed emotions. Leo had never had a father’s companionship, and now Ethan’s presence was filling that void, even though the true relationship between them remained undisclosed. I couldn’t bear to break his expectations, but at the same time, a protective instinct warned me to be more careful.

“If he promised, he’ll come,” I said softly, stroking Leo’s hair.

That night, after Leo fell asleep, I stood by the window looking out at the darkness. Across the street sat an unfamiliar black sedan with shadowy figures barely visible inside. My instincts told me these weren’t ordinary passersby. I drew the curtains, took out my backup phone, and requested a security check of our residence from the agency’s technical support.

Back at the bedside, I gently caressed Leo’s sleeping face. His eyelashes cast tiny shadows in the moonlight, his lips curved slightly upward as if dreaming of something happy. Perhaps playing with Ethan? The thought sent a wave of tenderness through my heart.

I picked up my phone, hesitated for a moment, then finally replied to Ethan’s message: “The cookies were a success. Leo saved some for you.”

Seconds later, the reply came: “Looking forward to them. Goodnight, Olivia. Take care of yourself and Leo.”

These simple words involuntarily warmed my heart. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, my thoughts racing. Was Ethan genuinely concerned about Leo, or did he suspect something? Was he on his father’s side, or truly cooperating with the investigation? Was his concern for me born from old feelings, or did he have other motives?