Brooke’s name appeared on the screen.

Catherine looked away.

“You should probably deal with that.”

Ethan declined the call, but the moment had passed.

Two weeks later, he hosted a reception aboard his yacht for investors and business associates. Catherine coordinated the event, checking vendors, guest lists, and catering arrangements.

Brooke arrived wearing a red dress and a smile Catherine had learned to distrust.

Near the refreshment table, she approached Catherine.

“You know this won’t last, don’t you?”

Catherine looked up from her schedule.

“What won’t?”

“Ethan’s fascination with you. You’re different, and right now he finds that entertaining.”

Catherine kept her voice even.

“I’m here to work, Brooke.”

“Of course. But you must understand that his world isn’t yours.”

“He invited me.”

Brooke’s smile disappeared.

Later, during the reception, Brooke took the microphone to offer what she called a few affectionate remarks about Ethan.

She began with harmless stories.

Then she mentioned Catherine.

“And apparently Ethan’s newest assistant is quite the character. I hear she used to clean houses and still talks to a window squeegee like it’s her best friend.”

A few guests laughed uncertainly.

Catherine froze.

Brooke continued.

“I suppose when you don’t have much company, you make your own.”

Catherine set down her clipboard.

Her mother had used Riley for years. After she died, Catherine had kept the worn squeegee because its handle still carried a strip of blue tape her mother had wrapped around it.

Talking to Riley had begun as a joke.

Then, during the lonely months after the funeral, it had become a way of remembering the woman who used to answer her from the next room.

Brooke knew none of that.

She only knew enough to make Catherine look foolish.

Ethan stepped toward the microphone.

“Brooke, that’s enough.”

The room fell quiet.

He looked toward Catherine.

“Catherine Owens has earned my respect through her work and her character. Her previous job is nothing to be ashamed of.”

Brooke’s face tightened.

“Ethan, it was a joke.”

“It wasn’t funny.”

Catherine walked outside before anyone could approach her.

Ethan found her near the railing, wiping her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“You didn’t say it.”

“I should’ve stopped her sooner.”

Catherine looked at the water.

“Riley belonged to my mother.”

Ethan waited.

“She cleaned houses almost her whole life. After she died, I kept some of her things. That squeegee was one of them.”

Her voice shook.

“I know it’s silly to talk to it.”

“No,” Ethan said gently. “It isn’t.”

Catherine looked up.

“You don’t have to pretend.”

“I’m not pretending.”

He reached for her hand.

“I think I understand why you kept it.”

She stepped closer.

When he kissed her, Catherine felt him hesitate for the briefest moment, as though he was giving her time to change her mind.

She didn’t.

For once, Ethan Caldwell stopped wondering whether trusting someone would end badly.

He simply held her.

Then a sudden gust caught the event schedule tucked beneath Catherine’s arm. She reached for it, accidentally knocking Riley from where she’d rested it against the railing.

The squeegee slipped between the bars and disappeared into the dark water.

“Riley!”

Catherine leaned forward, but Ethan gently caught her arm.

They both stared down.

There was nothing to see.

“I’m so sorry,” he said.

Catherine covered her mouth.

“It was Mom’s.”

Ethan drew her into his arms.

He didn’t tell her it was only an object.

He knew better now.

The next morning, photographs of their kiss appeared online.

By lunchtime, strangers were discussing Catherine Owens as though they knew her.

And by evening, somebody had published the address of the apartment where she lived with Megan.

PART 2 — THE TEST ETHAN NEVER EXPECTED

The first photographer appeared outside Catherine’s apartment building on Friday morning.

He asked whether she’d been dating Ethan while working for him and whether she expected to marry into his fortune.

Catherine said nothing and walked past him.

By Monday, another photographer had appeared near Megan’s college. Someone had found old information about their mother’s medical bills and published an article questioning whether Catherine had pursued Ethan for financial security.

Megan came home furious.

“They’re making you sound like some kind of criminal.”

Catherine was sitting at the kitchen table, staring at her phone.

“I know.”

“You should tell Ethan.”

“He knows.”

“Then why is this still happening?”

Catherine didn’t have an answer.

Ethan offered private transportation, additional security, and a temporary apartment in a building where reporters couldn’t enter.

He meant well.

But every solution seemed to involve moving Catherine farther away from the ordinary life she’d worked so hard to maintain.

When he came to see her that evening, she asked him to sit down.

“I need some space.”

He looked at her.

“From Brooke?”

“From all of this.”

“I can make arrangements.”

“That’s what you always say.”

He went quiet.

Catherine rubbed her forehead.

“Ethan, my sister is being followed at school. People are writing about my mother’s bills. I can’t go to the grocery store without somebody asking whether I’m after your money.”

“I’m trying to protect you.”

“I know. But I need you to understand that I can’t solve every problem by disappearing behind another door.”

He looked hurt.

“Are you ending this?”

“No. I’m asking you to give me room to think.”

Ethan nodded reluctantly.

“All right.”

After he left, Catherine sat alone for a long time.

She missed him before he’d reached the elevator.

Two days later, a package arrived.

Inside was a new window squeegee with a polished handle and a small blue ribbon tied around it.

A handwritten note read:

Riley II cannot replace the original. He’s applying for the position anyway.

Catherine laughed through tears.

She called Ethan.

“You bought me a squeegee.”

“A very respectable one.”

“It’s ridiculous.”

“I thought you’d appreciate that.”

She looked at the blue ribbon.

“I do.”

For several minutes, they talked about ordinary things: Megan’s classes, Ethan’s work, and whether the new squeegee was qualified for household management.

It was the first conversation they’d had in days that didn’t revolve around Brooke or the headlines.

Catherine treasured it.

The following week, Brooke appeared at Catherine’s apartment.

Catherine opened the door and immediately wished she hadn’t.

“I won’t take much of your time,” Brooke said.

She placed an envelope on the table.

Inside was a proposed agreement offering Catherine a substantial sum to publicly confirm that her relationship with Ethan had ended.

Catherine pushed it back.

“No.”

“You haven’t even read the amount.”

“I don’t need to.”

Brooke folded her arms.

“You’re making this harder than necessary.”

“For whom?”

Brooke’s expression cooled.

“Ethan has a reputation to protect. So do the people around him.”

Catherine stood.

“Then you should’ve thought about that before speaking about me at his reception.”

Brooke picked up the envelope.

“You really think you’re different from the others, Catherine? Ethan gave you a better job the moment you passed his little test. Maybe you just knew which reward was worth waiting for.”

Catherine went still.

The accusation was cruel because it took the one thing she’d been proud of—her honesty—and turned it into another reason to suspect her.

“You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know Ethan. He wants to believe you’re different. But eventually he’ll wonder what you really wanted.”

Catherine opened the door.

“Then he’ll have to decide whether he trusts me. You don’t get to decide for him.”

Brooke left without another word.

That night, Catherine called Ethan.

She told him about Brooke’s visit, the envelope, and the accusation.

He listened without interrupting.

“I’m sorry she came to your home,” he said.

“That’s not what worries me.”

“What does?”

Catherine hesitated.

“That part of you might still believe her.”

Ethan was quiet.

“I won’t pretend I’ve forgotten how to be suspicious,” he said finally. “But I don’t want to treat you the way I treated everybody else.”

“Then don’t.”

He exhaled.

“I trust you, Catherine.”

She closed her eyes.

“I trust you too.”

The next morning, Ethan called his attorney and asked for a review of the situation.

He wanted to address Brooke’s false statements, the unwanted publicity, and the repeated attempts to pressure Catherine.

His attorney advised him to handle the matter through formal correspondence rather than a public confrontation.

Ethan agreed.

But the conversation also brought up something he’d avoided for years.

His former employees.

During a review of his household records, Ethan found a folder containing notes from the old honesty tests. There were dates, names, amounts, and brief observations.

Some entries recorded actual theft.

Others were far less clear.

One employee had moved an envelope of cash into a drawer so it wouldn’t be left unattended. Ethan had marked the test as inconclusive and later declined to renew her contract.

Another had reported finding money to the household manager, but Ethan had never personally thanked him.

Catherine reviewed the folder with Ethan after he asked for her opinion.

She read several pages in silence.

“You kept records of all this?”

“Yes.”

“Did these people know they were being tested?”

“No.”

She turned another page.

“And you used these notes when deciding whether to keep them?”

Ethan looked uncomfortable.