Chapter 35: Ethan’s Downfall
It all started with a trickle.
Ava’s phone began buzzing relentlessly at 7 a.m., her morning coffee barely cooling as she scrolled through texts and emails. By the ti she’d officially entered her office, the whispers had beco a roar. Everyone wanted her opinion on the scandal du jour: Ethan Chase, the so-called genius of love, had finally t his match. Or rather, his downfall.
"Have you seen this?" Kelly burst into Ava’s office, holding up her phone. Her grin was so wide it could’ve split her face. "Your mortal enemy is trending for all the wrong reasons."
Ava gestured for her coffee mug, which Kelly imdiately snatched away like a caffeinated bribe. "What’s trending?" Ava asked, her tone tired. She had a ntal list of at least six different scandals Ethan was overdue for.
Kelly wiggled her eyebrows. "Oh, you’ll love this."
She tapped her phone, thrusting it toward Ava, who groaned but took it anyway. The screen displayed a local news article with a headline that felt like Christmas morning:
"Cupid’s Algorithm Exposed: Data Lies, Fake Matches, and Unethical Practices."
"What the—" Ava stared at the headline, blinking as her brain caught up with the dopamine hit of vindication. "What happened?"
"Short version: His ex-fiancée, Clara—yes, the Clara—turned him in. She handed over emails proving that Ethan’s so-called algorithm was mostly fabricated. Turns out, Cupid’s Algorithm is basically the Wikipedia of matchmaking—unverified and full of nonsense."
Ava blinked, taking the phone back for a closer look. "Wait, she has emails?"
"Oh, honey." Kelly dropped into the nearest chair. "She has emails, screenshots, and voice mos. Apparently, Ethan’s idea of compatibility is throwing darts at random percentages and hoping nobody notices."
Ava snorted. "Sounds about right. Did he seriously think he could get away with this forever?"
"Well, technically, he almost did," Kelly said. "Until Clara decided to unleash the kraken."
Before Ava could reply, Kelly pulled up a livestream. "You have to see this. It’s like reality TV, but better. Look—he’s outside his office right now."
---
The video feed showed Ethan standing in front of his office building, besieged by reporters. For a man who prided himself on charm and polish, he looked remarkably... sweaty. His usually slicked-back hair was falling into his eyes, and his designer suit appeared crumpled, like he’d slept in it.
"Mr. Chase," one reporter yelled, shoving a microphone toward his face, "how do you respond to allegations that Cupid’s Algorithm is fabricated?"
Ethan opened his mouth, only to close it again. He looked like a goldfish in a bowl.
"Is it true that 70% of your ’success stories’ were staged?" another reporter shouted.
"Is it true your ex-fiancée supplied evidence against you?"
"Are the rumors about a pet matchmaking app accurate?"
Ethan’s face turned a deep shade of crimson. "No comnt!" he finally shouted, attempting to push through the crowd.
But the reporters weren’t done. Caras followed his every move as he scrambled inside, tripping over his own feet as soone from the crowd yelled, "Swipe left on Ethan Chase!"
Kelly nearly choked on her coffee. "Did you hear that? Swipe left!"
Ava shook her head, torn between schadenfreude and disbelief. "I knew he was slimy, but faking an entire business? That’s a new low, even for him."
---
By mid-morning, Ava’s phone was lighting up with calls from an unlisted number. She ignored it the first three tis, then the fourth. By the fifth, Kelly raised an eyebrow.
"You know it’s him, right?"
"No kidding," Ava muttered, glaring at the screen. "What does he think I’m going to do? Write him a character reference?"
But curiosity got the better of her on the seventh call. With a deep sigh, she answered. "What do you want, Ethan?"
"Ava!" Ethan’s voice was tinny, panicked, and about three octaves higher than usual. "Thank God. Listen, I—uh—I need your help."
Ava blinked. "My help? You an the help of the person you spent the last year trying to humiliate?"
"That’s not fair!" Ethan protested, though his tone was anything but convincing. "We’re... colleagues. Rivals. Healthy competition, you know?"
"Healthy competition?" Ava deadpanned. "You spread a rumor that I was fake-engaged to Ryan!"
Ethan winced audibly. "Okay, fine, maybe I went a little overboard. But this is serious, Ava. My company’s collapsing. My reputation is in shreds. I’m being compared to—" He paused, his voice dropping to a horrified whisper. "—Fyre Festival."
Ava bit back a laugh. "What exactly do you expect
to do about it?"
"I don’t know!" Ethan said, his voice cracking. "Help
spin this. You’re good at... making people believe in love."
Ava stared at the ceiling, debating the morality of hanging up on him. "Ethan, this is karma. You did this to yourself. Good luck."
She ended the call, but for so reason, the sound of Ethan’s desperation lingered in her head.
---
That evening, Ava found herself sitting across from i at the tea shop, recounting the day’s drama. Harold, seated beside i with his ever-present crossword, chuckled quietly as Ava vented.
"So," i said, pouring herself more tea, "you’re just going to let him drown?"
"Obviously," Ava said. "Why wouldn’t I? He’s been awful to
since day one."
"True," i agreed, nodding. "But even the worst fools deserve a lifeboat."
Ava stared at her. "You’re not seriously suggesting I help him."
"No," i said serenely. "I’m going to help him."
Harold looked up from his crossword, his expression half-amused, half-terrified. "Oh no."
"You’re what?" Ava asked, almost spilling her tea.
"You heard ," i said. "Ethan needs guidance. He doesn’t understand the first thing about trust or authenticity, which, ironically, are the foundations of love."
"Grandma," Ava groaned. "You can’t fix everyone. Let him sink."
"Nonsense," i said, waving a hand. "If you’d let him sink, you wouldn’t be sitting here ranting about him. Clearly, a part of you wants to see him redeem himself."
Ava opened her mouth to argue, then closed it. She hated when i had a point.
---
Ethan’s office was a shadow of its forr self. The once-bustling reception area was eerily quiet, with only a lone receptionist scrolling on her phone behind a desk that still bore the faint outline of where the "Cupid’s Algorithm" logo had been pried off. A half-empty box of office supplies sat by the door, and a sad, deflated "Love Guru #1" balloon floated near the ceiling, tethered to nothing.
i walked in like she owned the place, Harold trailing behind her with the bemused air of a man who had no idea how he got dragged into this. Ethan, slouched in a chair at the far end of the office, looked up in abject misery. His suit jacket was crumpled on the floor, and his tie hung askew like a noose he hadn’t quite managed to escape from.
"Mrs. Lee?" Ethan’s voice cracked as he sat up, his expression equal parts confusion and desperation. "What are you—why are you here?"
"I’m here to fix your ss," i declared, setting her oversized purse on his desk with a dramatic thud. "You’ve proven you can’t manage it on your own."
Ethan blinked. "I—uh—appreciate the offer, but—"
"No buts," i interrupted sharply, waving a hand in the universal gesture of ’shut up.’ "You’re in crisis, Ethan. And lucky for you, I specialize in turning disasters into miracles."
Ethan glanced at Harold, who rely shrugged. "She does this. Just go with it."
"First rule," i said, pulling out a notepad and slapping it onto Ethan’s desk, "no more lies. Honesty, Ethan. It’s the cornerstone of every relationship, personal or professional. The next ti you even think about fabricating a success story, I’ll be right here to smack the calculator out of your hand."
Ethan blinked again. "I don’t even own a calculator."
"Then you’re already on the wrong track," i said matter-of-factly.
Harold cleared his throat. "She’s very thorough."
"Second rule," i continued, jabbing a finger toward Ethan, "trust is earned. You are going to apologize to every single client you’ve deceived. Handwritten apologies, Ethan. None of this copy-paste nonsense."
"Handwritten?" Ethan’s voice cracked again. "Do people even know how to read cursive anymore?"
"Figure it out," i snapped. "And make it heartfelt. If I see one insincere apology, I’ll make you rewrite it until your wrist cramps."
Harold leaned closer to Ethan, whispering, "Just start practicing your loops now. It’ll save ti."
Ethan’s shoulders sagged. "Fine. What’s rule three?"
"Rule three," i said, her tone softening slightly, "is to rember that matchmaking isn’t about algorithms. It’s about people. You’ve spent so much ti hiding behind numbers and percentages that you forgot what it ans to truly connect with soone."
Ethan looked away, clearly uncomfortable. "People are ssy. Numbers are clean."
i gave him a long, steady look. "People are ssy. That’s what makes them worth it."
The room fell silent, the weight of i’s words hanging in the air like a challenge. Ethan shifted in his chair, his jaw tightening.
"Now," i said briskly, breaking the mont, "we’re going to start by tearing apart your entire business model and rebuilding it from the ground up. Harold, take notes."
Harold pulled out a small notepad. "Already ahead of you."
The next three hours were a whirlwind of ruthless efficiency. i interrogated Ethan about his marketing strategies, forced him to delete his cringeworthy Twitter bio ("Love is my science; data is my muse"), and threw out half the office décor, including a neon sign that read, "Hotter than Cupid."
By the ti they were done, Ethan looked like he’d been hit by a bus, but there was a flicker of sothing new in his expression: relief.
"You’re a tyrant," he muttered, rubbing his temples.
i smiled serenely. "And you’re a work in progress. Congratulations—you’ve just taken your first step toward being an actual human being."
Harold leaned over again. "Welco to the club."
---
The press conference was held in the sa glittering ballroom where Ethan had once staged his over-the-top matchmaking galas. But tonight, the atmosphere was different. The gaudy decorations were gone, replaced with simple banners that read, "Rebuilding Trust: A New Beginning."
Ava and Ryan sat in the tea shop, i and Harold perched nearby, as they watched the livestream. Even from behind the screen, Ava could feel the tension in the room as Ethan stepped up to the podium.
He looked... different. His usual smug confidence was gone, replaced by sothing quieter, more subdued. His suit was perfectly pressed, but there was no pocket square, no ostentatious tie pin—just Ethan, standing alone under the lights.
"I want to start by apologizing," he said, his voice steady but softer than usual. "To my clients, my colleagues, and to the people who trusted . I let my ambition cloud my judgnt, and I betrayed that trust. For that, I’m deeply sorry."
The reporters were stone-faced, their caras trained on him like vultures circling prey. Ethan swallowed hard and glanced toward the side of the stage, where i stood, arms crossed and expression unreadable.
"Thanks to the guidance of Mrs. i Lee," Ethan continued, his voice trembling slightly, "I’ve co to realize that matchmaking isn’t about algorithms or data points. It’s about people. It’s about trust. And I’m committed to earning that trust back."
The room was silent for a mont, the tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. Then a lone reporter raised her hand. "Mr. Chase, does this an you’re shutting down Cupid’s Algorithm?"
Ethan hesitated, then nodded. "Yes. The company as it stands now will be dissolved. Moving forward, I’ll be working under Mrs. Lee’s guidance to create a new model—one based on honesty and authentic connection."
Back at the tea shop, Ryan let out a low whistle. "She actually did it. She turned him into a real person."
"Don’t give him too much credit," Ava muttered, though she couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at her lips.
The press conference ended with a smattering of cautious applause, and i finally stepped forward to join Ethan on stage. She took the microphone, her calm, commanding presence imdiately shifting the energy in the room.
"Trust is the foundation of love," i said, her voice steady and warm. "It’s not sothing you can calculate or manufacture. It’s sothing you earn, mont by mont, choice by choice. Ethan Chase has made mistakes—big ones—but I believe in second chances. And I hope you will too."
As the cara panned to the reporters, Ava noticed several of them nodding, their skepticism giving way to curiosity. It was a masterclass in damage control, and i had just delivered a flawless performance.
"Your grandmother’s a genius," Ryan said, leaning back in his chair.
"She’s a nace," Ava replied, but there was no venom in her tone. Just admiration—and maybe a hint of pride.
---
Later that evening, i returned to the tea shop, Harold carrying her bag like an old-fashioned gentleman. She looked as composed as ever, but Ava could see the faint glimr of satisfaction in her eyes.
"Well?" i asked, setting her purse on the counter. "What did you think?"
Ava shook her head, smiling despite herself. "You’re terrifying."
"Thank you," i said, pouring herself a cup of tea. "It’s a complint I take very seriously."
Harold chuckled, pulling out a chair. "She’s been terrifying for as long as I’ve known her."
Ryan raised his cup in a mock toast. "To i Lee: the woman who can fix anything—even Ethan Chase."
i smiled, her eyes twinkling. "Don’t forget that, Ava. If I can fix Ethan, you can fix Ryan."
"Hey!" Ryan protested, but Ava just laughed.
As the tea shop filled with warmth and laughter, Ava couldn’t help but feel a glimr of hope. Maybe i was right. Maybe even the most impossible things—trust, redemption, love—were worth fighting for.
Even if they were ssy. Even if they were complicated.
Because sotis, the biggest disasters led to the best new beginnings.
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