Chapter 103: Where Do You Think You’re Going?

I smiled as I turned down the quiet highway, hitting speed dial on my steering wheel.

Chloe picked up on the second ring, her voice instantly brightening the moment she heard me. "Ethan! It’s so good to hear your voice."

I could hear the faint rustle of thick legal textbooks and typing in the background. Pursuing her Master’s in Law wasn’t a walk in the park, and she sounded noticeably worn out from the non-stop studying, but the warmth in her tone when talking to me was unmistakable.

"You sound stressed, legal genius," I said softly, my voice laced with affection. "Make sure you’re actually taking breaks."

"I am, I am," she chuckled, leaning back from her desk. "Honestly, just hearing your voice is a massive breath of fresh air right now. So, to what do I owe the pleasure? Miss me, or do you have another wild situation on your hands?"

"A little bit of both," I admitted with a grin.

I gave her the breakdown about Patricia—the 15-hour shifts, the collapse on the restaurant floor, and the predatory, highly restrictive contract binding her to that place.

Chloe listened attentively, her tone quickly shifting from relaxed girlfriend to sharp, calculating attorney. "A clause that traps an employee like that with unreasonable breach penalties is classic predatory behavior," she analyzed cleanly. "I’ll definitely need to read the actual document line by line to see how we dismantle it properly. The good news? My semester break is coming up and I’m heading back home soon anyway."

"That’s perfect," I said. "I’ll get my hands on the contract and send a copy over to your email as soon as I have it."

"Deal," Chloe replied, her tone softening back to that sweet, intimate vibe. "Get me that document, Ethan. I’ll make sure her boss regrets ever printing it out."

"Get some rest, babe. Don’t pull an all-nighter over those law books," I reminded her softly.

"I won’t. Thank you for calling, Ethan—you have no idea how much I needed to hear your voice," Chloe replied, her tone completely warm and relaxed before hanging up.

With the legal side lined up, it was time to put the gift card strategy into motion. I pulled over to the side of the road and dialed Tiana, the CEO of Zenith and my core business partner.

She picked up after a couple of beats, her voice carrying that trademark calm, mature elegance, overflowing with natural warmth and subtle motherly energy whenever she spoke to me.

"Ethan, dear," Tiana answered smoothly, the faint sound of classical music humming in her background. "I was wondering when I’d hear from you tonight. Is everything alright?"

"Everything’s great, Tiana," I said, leaning back against the headrest. "I need a specialized favor from Zenith’s marketing department. I need a run of high-value gift cards and promotional shopping vouchers printed directly inside a specific batch of local lifestyle magazines."

There was a quiet, affectionate chuckle on her end of the line. "Vouchers tucked inside print magazines? That’s quite a nostalgic touch for you, Ethan. What sort of budget are we looking at for this little operation?"

"Let’s put an estimate of one million on it," I replied without missing a beat. "We’ll run it under our latest community outreach and brand promotion campaign."

Tiana paused for a brief moment, her tone remaining impossibly gentle, like a mother indulging a brilliant child’s passion project. "one million for a magazine voucher rollout... well, if my partner says it’s for the campaign, then consider it done. I’ll have the marketing team pull the print layouts tonight and prepare the issue runs. Is there a specific distributor or area you need these delivered to?"

"I’ll send you the exact newsstand location and magazine titles in a few minutes," I said. "Make sure the winning codes are placed exclusively in the issues going to that single rack."

"Understood, dear," Tiana murmured with a soft laugh. "I won’t ask too many questions about who the lucky reader is. Just make sure you’re taking care of yourself out there, alright? Don’t stay up too late driving around."

"I won’t, Tiana. Thanks."

"Always, Ethan. Goodnight."

The call ended, and I looked down at my phone with a smirk. Ten million dollar deployed, Zenith’s full marketing machine engaged, and Patricia’s "lucky streak" officially scheduled for delivery by tomorrow morning.

The next morning, I drove straight back to her apartment building. Just as I pulled up to the curb, I saw the main entrance door swing open.

Patricia was stepping out, dressed in her faded work uniform, moving with slow, hesitant steps. She looked like she was dragging a lead weight behind her.

I cut the engine, stepped out of the supercar, and intercepted her right at the bottom of the front steps.

"Where do you think you’re going?" I asked, crossing my arms as I blocked her path.

Patricia flinched slightly, startled to see me standing there so early. "Ethan?! What... what are you doing here?" She instinctively smoothed down her apron, her eyes darting nervously toward the street. "I—I have to go to work. My shift starts in twenty minutes."

"No, you don’t," I said, my tone calm but firm. "You’re going right back inside to rest."

"I can’t just stay home!" she protested, her voice rising in a mix of panic and exhaustion. "You don’t understand! If I miss another shift, my manager is going to write me up for breach of contract. The penalty fee is huge, Ethan—if they take legal action against me, I’ll be ruined! I have to show up, even if it’s just to handle basic kitchen prep!"

She tried to step around me, but I shifted smoothly to keep her grounded where she was.

"Nope. You’re not going anywhere," I replied, meeting her anxious look with an unshakeable gaze. "The doctor was very clear yesterday, Patricia. Your body is completely drained. If you go back to that kitchen today, you’re going to faint again—or worse. I’m not letting you destroy your health for a predatory contract."

She stared up at me, torn between her terrifying fear of the breach penalty and the absolute authority in my voice.