A Single Dad Secretly Taught a CEO’s Daughter Advanced Math—Then the CEO Learned the Truth – Part 6

She did that when she was thinking. Ethan had noticed it on day two. “The Hartley conversation,” Ethan said from the doorway. She didn’t turn. “What about it?” “Did you know he’d spoken with Hartley last week?” A pause. Not long. “No.” “Is that normal?” “Victor having side conversations with committee contacts?” “He’s the COO.

” Her voice was careful, the way it got when something was being considered. “He has standing relationships with a lot of these people. It’s normal for him to have conversations I’m not part of.” “Sure.” Ethan leaned against the doorframe. “Just seems like something you’d want a heads-up on before a meeting, so you’re not hearing it for the first time in the room.

” She turned then, looked at him with the flat direct gaze she used when someone had said something worth filing. “I’ll ask him to loop me in on committee contacts going forward. That sounds right.” He pushed off the doorframe. “I’ll have the revised presentation materials to you by 3:00. Do you want the risk section reformatted or just updated?” “Updated is fine.” She paused. “Ethan.

” He stopped. “You’ve been here a week.” “A week and a day.” “Don’t get ahead of yourself.” He looked at her steadily. I’m just taking notes. She held his gaze for 2 seconds. Then she went back to her desk. He went back to his. Thursday arrived in a state of controlled chaos that felt by that point familiar. The government presentation was at 2:00 at a building in Midtown that housed three federal agency offices and a very expensive coffee kiosk that nobody used because the security checkpoint made it logistically painful to get to.

Ava had a car at 12:45. Victor was meeting them there. Ethan had spent the better part of Wednesday reorganizing the digital backup of every document they might possibly need and printing two full copies of the presentation binder, which he carried in a bag that also contained a phone charger, a backup USB, two pens, a printed schedule, and one granola bar that he’d brought out of habit and that had nothing to do with the presentation.

The car ride was quiet. Ava read. Ethan sat across from her in the backseat and went through his phone confirming room logistics and delegate registrations. “The deputy director is named Fowler,” he said. “She’s been on three of these review committees before. She likes specifics, numbers, timelines, verifiable outcomes.

If the committee tries to pivot toward qualitative impact and you need to redirect, go back to the deployment figures.” Ava lowered her reading material slightly. “How do you know about Fowler?” “Public record. She’s been on the four published review panels. Her questions from the transcript of the March panel are online.” He looked up from his phone.

“She asked the same question twice in two different ways during that panel. About accountability.” “Accountability meaning what?” “Who takes the blame when it doesn’t work.” He paused. “Not if, when.” Ava was quiet for a moment. “What would you tell her?” “That your system has a documented failure protocol and that the protocol was built before the system was deployed, not after the first incident.

Proactive accountability instead of reactive. He shrugged. She’ll like that framing better than a defense. The car moved through Midtown traffic in silence for another block. Then Ava said, You researched the committee members. On the weekend, yeah. I didn’t ask you to do that. No. Another pause. All of them or just Fowler? There are seven. I have notes on five.

The other two were harder to track publicly. I can send you the file. She looked at him. That look again. The recalibrating one that was starting to feel after a week and a half like something approaching surprised respect, though she would never call it that. Send the file. He sent it before they pulled up to the building.

The presentation went well, which was to say it went roughly the way things go when a great deal of preparation meets a room full of people who have also prepared and are looking for reasons to be skeptical. Ava was sharp. Victor was smooth. The slide sequence held. Deputy Director Fowler asked her accountability question in the exact framing Ethan had predicted.

Who owns failure in your deployment model? And Ava answered with the proactive accountability framing without missing a beat. And Fowler wrote something in her notebook and didn’t follow up. The committee broke for 15 minutes at 3:15. Ethan was in the hallway with the document bag when Victor came out. Hands in his pockets, looking pleased in the easy way of someone who had done this many times.

Good room, Victor said, stopping near Ethan. She handles pressure well. She prepared well, Ethan said. That, too. Victor looked at him with a friendliness that felt engineered rather than felt. You’ve been doing good work this week. I’ve heard that. Thanks. She doesn’t warm up to people easily. Victor glanced toward the conference room doors.

You’ve managed something most people haven’t. I’m just doing the job. Sure. Victor smiled. How long are you in the position? Two weeks the agency said? Two weeks initial, possibly extending. Possibly. Victor nodded. She’ll need stability around her especially after Thursday. This contract is big.

There’s going to be a lot of follow-up, a lot of committee communication going forward. Having consistent support matters. A pause. Make sure she trusts you. It was an odd thing to say. Not wrong exactly, but specific in a way that felt like it was pointing at something without pointing directly. Ethan looked at Victor with the same expression he’d been keeping all week.

Neutral, attentive, unreadable. I’ll do that, he said. Victor clapped him on the shoulder once and went back inside. Ethan stood in the hallway and turned the sentence over. Make sure she trusts you. Not keep doing good work. Not she’ll be glad to have reliable support. The word trust, specifically. Applied to him. From a man who had been mentioned once in a half-finished sentence by a woman at the front desk who didn’t like leaving sentences half-finished.

He pulled out his phone. He didn’t search anything, not yet. He just noted it, the way he’d learned to note things quietly without deciding what they meant before he had more. Ava got back to the office at 5:20 and went directly to her desk without stopping. Ethan followed at the appropriate distance, closed her door when she sat down, and returned to his workstation.

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