"What do you mean?"
Sophia's mind raced through countless possibilities.
Yet the number of people who could harm Ethan Sullivan in such a setting was vanishingly small.
"It's Mr. Sullivan—his behavior tonight is highly unusual." As Ethan's personal assistant, Ian Watson knew his temperament better than anyone.
"With the gala about to begin, he had a private conversation with Mr. Roscente and then locked himself in his room, drinking heavily. He instructed me to escort you home."
Ian pressed the elevator button, beads of sweat forming at his temples.
"The gala can be missed, but the auction at midnight is critical. Our business partners have already scheduled meetings, and Mr. Sullivan was supposed to attend personally."
No one had anticipated this sudden change of plans.
The drinking was the most alarming part. Ethan was known for his discipline and restraint. For him to lose control like this, something serious must have happened.
Ian knew Sophia was the only one who could reach Ethan now.
He bowed slightly, desperation in his voice.
"Ms. Sullivan, I'm at my wits' end. Please, just get him to sober up—even if it's just a little."
Sophia frowned. "I remember he has a history of stomach issues."
"Yes." Ian took a deep breath. "He rarely touches alcohol these days. Tonight is completely out of character. I'm afraid something might go wrong."
Even Julian Roscente had been turned away. No one else dared approach.
The elevator reached the penthouse.
Sophia couldn't fathom what could possibly break Ethan Sullivan.
She spoke softly. "I'll do what I can."
"Whatever the outcome, I appreciate your help."
Guilt flickered across Ian's face.
He was clearly overwhelmed.
"Our partners are arriving downstairs, and the CEO is locked away. I need to go handle things."
As an assistant, protecting the company's interests was his duty.
"Go ahead. I'll take care of things here."
Sophia understood his predicament.
Everyone had their struggles.
She entered the code Ian provided, and the door clicked open.
"...Mr. Sullivan?"
Sophia stepped inside, the wooden floor creaking faintly underfoot.
No response.
The lounge was dim, illuminated only by the warm glow of a bedside lamp.
Ethan sat slumped against the bed, drinking.
His usually immaculate hair fell messily over his forehead, the sharp edges of his demeanor drowned in alcohol.
Sophia had never seen him like this—consumed by shadows, radiating a dark intensity.
One knee was drawn up, his hand resting on it while the other gripped a bottle of brandy, tilting it to his lips.
The man who always fastened every button of his shirt now had his collar wide open.
The top button was missing, revealing the defined lines of his chest.
His tie hung loose, wild and untamed.
There was something dangerously alluring about his disheveled state.
When he lifted his gaze, his dark eyes burned with raw intensity.
"...You're here."