After Clara left the room, Ethan walked back to his private office. Resting on the pristine mahogany desk was a small, neatly wrapped gift box. He untied the ribbon and opened it.
Inside was a crisp, brand-new fifty-dollar bill, tucked neatly inside a silver frame. Beneath it, a small engraved plaque read:
“For the formula. With interest.”
Ethan let out a soft laugh—the first real, unburdened laugh he had enjoyed in years. He placed the frame right next to his computer, where he could see it every single day. A
