Chapter 174: Going Home

Chloe hit the power button on the overhead console, cutting off the champagne spray and bringing the van back to a breathless, sticky calm.

On the screen, the broadcast had shifted to an entertainment panel segment. A male and a female reporter sat behind a slick desk, a high-res photo of me on stage beside Oliver playing in a loop behind them.

"...but the biggest question echoing through the industry tonight isn’t just about Benita," the female reporter said, leaning forward. "It’s about the mysterious figure standing right beside her on that runway. The man who orchestrated this whole takedown."

"That’s right, Sarah," the male co-anchor chimed in, pulling up a digital board filled with connecting lines. "Our sources confirm this isn’t the first time he’s pulled off something like this. He was recently linked to the massive breakout of global pop sensation Ruby, as well as the record-shattering sprinter May. And let’s not forget Chef Patricia, who went from struggling waitress to a Michelin-star sensation overnight. Now? He adds UncuT to his belt. The media is already calling him the ultimate ’Talent Hunter.’"

"And it gets crazier," the female anchor added, chuckling as she pulled up a grainy photo on her tablet. "We managed to track down some of his background. He’s still a university student, but he was spotted pulling onto campus in a one-million-dollar supercar with his girlfriend."

Beside me, Chloe wiped a drop of champagne from her cheek, her eyes lighting up as a soft, knowing smile spread across her face. She looked over at me, remembering the exact after mourning noon we tore through the main campus gates in that raw, roaring machine, sending Julian speechless.

"It seems this young mogul has a very specific pattern," the anchor concluded with a smirk. "He has an eye for wildly talented, overlooked women—bringing them out of the shadows and throwing them straight into the global spotlight."

Chloe leaned her head back against the drenched leather, letting out a soft, amused hum. "Well... look at you, Ethan. The media is officially building a brand persona around you."

Benita’s jaw was practically on the floor. She stared back and forth between the TV display and me, her soaked hair completely forgotten.

"Wait..." Benita gasped, her eyes wide as saucepans. "You weren’t joking when you told me you knew Ruby?! The Ruby?! And May too?!"

I leaned my head back, wringing out the sleeve of my soaked jacket with a quiet chuckle. "I told you I knew people."

"You didn’t say you were out here running a secret empire of superstars!" Benita yelled, shaking her head in complete disbelief before pointing at her own chest with a proud, beaming grin. "So what does that make me now?"

I looked over at her, a warm, genuine smirk on my face.

"You?" I said softly. "You’re a celebrity too now, Benita. Get used to it."

---

The morning sun hit the balcony of my Hillside Estate residence just right, painting the city skyline in a warm golden hue. I leaned back in the lounge chair, wearing an open robe, sipping espresso while flipping through the freshly printed front cover of Vogue Paris. Benita’s dark charcoal dress was splashed across the center fold, under a bold, towering headline: UNCUT: THE NEW AGE OF HAUTE COUTURE.

Down in the markets, O.R. Atelier’s stock had completely cratered into dust by opening bell. Bankruptcy filings were already hitting the wire. I didn’t even bother reading the financial columns—I had set the corporate dominoes in motion weeks ago, leaving the legal clean-up entirely to Chloe and the corporate legal team.

A soft chime chimed in my head, floating over my vision:

[SYSTEM NOTICE] Cashback Realization Complete: $1,600,000,000 liquid capital deposited into primary account.

One point six billion dollars, sitting quiet and untouched.

My phone on the side table vibrated relentlessly against the glass, buzzing for the fifth time in twenty minutes. Ruby’s contact name flashed across the screen with a string of urgent, dramatic fire emojis. I just chuckled softly, leaving the phone face down. She’d live until afternoon.

Chloe was already out handling the UncuT legal acquisitions, and the mansion felt quiet for once. I tossed the magazine onto the glass table, tied the belt of my robe, and headed downstairs into the floor-to-ceiling glass gym area.

The rhythmic thud-thud-thud of a high-speed treadmill echoed through the hall.

May was in full stride, her sleek, muscular frame moving with pure athletic efficiency. Her dark hair was tied up, sweat glistening off her shoulders, her legs working at a pace that would break an average person’s lungs. I landed in the country late last night after the Paris flight, collapsing straight into bed without checking who was around.

I leaned against the glass frame, folding my arms with a easy smirk. "Sup, champ." ℴ

May hit the deceleration button, bringing the belt down to a steady walk. She wiped her brow with a towel hung over the handles, turning her sharp, competitive eyes toward me with a smirk.

"Well, look who finally decided to wake up," May said, her tone dripping with her usual gritty, teasing energy. She stepped off the belt, slinging the towel around her neck and crossing her arms like a teammate ready to dish out trash talk. "You really are a ridiculously busy man, aren’t you? Leaving me all alone to wander around this freaking giant mansion like a ghost."

"You seem to be managing just fine," I grinned.

"You’re not the only one who gets to enjoy the space," a quiet, gentle voice called out from the open kitchen counter across the hall.

I turned around, genuinely surprised. Patricia was standing behind the marble island in a simple apron over her relaxed clothes, expertly chopping fresh herbs with the precision of a elite head chef.

"Woah," I said, leaning against the counter wall. "When did you get here?"

Patricia looked up, a soft blush dusting her cheeks as she wiped her hands on her towel. She had always been quieter, more reserved than the loud, dominant personalities around me, but there was a comfortable warmth in the way she carried herself around the house now.

"I got in yesterday afternoon, too," Patricia said softly, giving me a shy smile. "Things at Lumen have been running smoothly thanks to the new management structure you put in place, so I decided to take a little break and come home."

May tossed her water bottle onto a nearby stool, stepping into the kitchen and leaning against the counter right beside me, bumping her shoulder against mine with zero personal space.

"See?" May teased, throwing a wicked, mischievous grin at Patricia before looking back at me. "You leave for Paris to blow up the fashion world, and your house just automatically fills up with girls who can actually cook and run circles around you. You’re getting spoiled, Ethan."

Patricia’s face flushed a deeper shade of pink at May’s teasing, though she couldn’t hide her small smile as she adjusted her apron. "I just wanted to make breakfast for everyone."

I looked between the world-record sprinter dripping sweat beside me and the Michelin-caliber chef prepping artisanal breakfast in my kitchen, tying my robe a little tighter.

"I could definitely get used to coming home to this," I said smoothly.