The safety pin tore into Ethan’s side just as he stepped into the glass lobby of Vance Capital, leaving a warm sting beneath a suit that was never meant for him. The jacket belonged to his older brother Julian, two sizes too big, with padded shoulders, loose sleeves, and a waistband secretly held together by three rusty pins he had found at midnight. His parents, Arthur and Beatrice, had refused to give him even $50 for a basic interview suit, though they had just bought Julian a Porsche as a “reward” for another shaky job. “You don’t deserve new things every time life gets difficult,” his mother had said, sliding the old garment bag across the chair. Ethan was twenty-six, broke from paying his own way through school, and walking into the biggest interview of his life looking like someone else’s joke. In the elevator, polished candidates glanced at him and looked away. By the time he reached the twelfth-floor boardroom, he was bleeding, embarrassed, and determined not to let his family win.
Then Victoria Vance, the CEO herself, entered the room and stopped cold when she saw him. She didn’t ask about his résumé or his experience; she looked at the oversized cuffs, the uneven waist, and the pain he was trying to hide. “Did someone make you wear that?” she asked, and the entire room went silent. Ethan tried to brush it off, but Victoria’s expression sharpened with recognition, not pity. That morning had already been suspicious: Julian’s friend Liam had handed Ethan a “prep folder” full of market projections, only for Ethan to realize on the bus that the numbers were dangerously false. He had thrown the folder away before it could ruin him. Now, standing in that boardroom, Victoria removed her own blazer, handed it to Ethan, and said quietly, “I know exactly who put you in that suit.”