Chapter 2 - THE GLASS TOWER
The penthouse suite of the Cole Tower on 57th Street was a monument to modern architectural minimalism. Floor-to-ceiling glass windows offered sweeping views of the Manhattan skyline, but inside, the vast, white-marbled spaces felt cold, echoey, and barren.
Ethan carried Noah through the entrance, holding the sleeping boy against his shoulder while Claire walked beside them.
A elderly housekeeper in a dark uniform stepped out from the kitchen area, her face filled with anxiety. “Mr. Cole! Is he alright? The nanny said he panicked at the hotel—”
“He’s sleeping, Mrs. Gable,” Ethan said softly. “Please prepare the guest bedroom next to Noah’s room for Ms. Bennett.”
Mrs. Gable looked at Claire’s catering uniform in surprise, but nodded respectfully. “Right away, sir.”
Ethan walked down the long corridor, placing Noah gently onto a low, platform bed in a spacious room. The room was filled with expensive, imported toys—a massive wooden train set, interactive electronic tablets, plush giant bears—yet everything looked untouched, pristine, and lonely.
Claire stepped into the room, her professional eyes taking in the environment.
She walked over to the tall windows. The city lights outside flickered continuously, and the faint, high-pitched hum of the building’s central heating system hummed through the walls.
“He can't sleep in here,” Claire said quietly.
Ethan paused near the door. “What do you mean? This room was designed by the top child interior specialist in the city.”
“It’s too big, it’s too bright, and it echoes,” Claire explained, stepping back toward the bed. “A grieving, traumatized child feels exposed in open space. He needs boundaries. He needs a space that feels like a cocoon.”
She knelt by the bed, gently sliding her hands under Noah’s small shoulders. The moment she shifted him, Noah stirred, a small whimpering sound escaping his throat as his fingers reached out blindly, searching for her apron fabric.
“Shh,” Claire hummed the same quiet, warbling melody. “I’m here, Noah. You’re safe.”
Noah’s breathing evened out instantly. He tucked his head against her arm, his small body relaxing again.
Ethan watched from the doorway, his chest tightening with an emotion he hadn't allowed himself to feel in six months. Grief.
“He hasn't held onto anyone like that since Maya died,” Ethan whispered, stepping closer. “He pushes the nannies away. He screams if the doctors touch him. Why you?”
Claire looked up at Ethan, her clear hazel eyes holding his gaze with unflinching honesty.
“Because I’m not trying to fix him, Mr. Cole,” Claire said softly. “Everyone else wants him to speak so they can feel better. I’m just letting him be terrified until he’s ready to stop.”
Ethan stood silently in the dim room for a long moment. He pulled out his phone, sent a brief message to his legal team, and locked the screen.
“I want to hire you full-time,” Ethan said. “Not as a nanny. As his personal medical coordinator. Name your salary.”
Claire looked at him, surprised. “Mr. Cole, my nursing license is currently under review by the state board because of... an ongoing dispute with my former employer. Legally, I cannot act as a nurse.”
“I don't care about the state board,” Ethan said, his tone sharp and uncompromising. “And as for your former employer... New York-Presbyterian is currently seeking a fifty-million-dollar endowment from my charitable foundation.”
A dark, lethal smile touched Ethan’s lips for a fraction of a second.
“I think the state board will find a way to clear your license by Monday morning,” Ethan added quietly. “Now... what does Noah need right now?”
Claire looked down at the boy in her arms, then back at Ethan.
May you like
“He needs a smaller room, softer yellow lighting, and someone to sit beside him until the sun comes up.”
Ethan nodded once. “Then I’ll fetch the blankets.”
