And that was just the beginning.
Ethan's stock market plans were already taking shape, and that whole operation was going to need its own dedicated team too.
Redwood Capital had barely started scaling, and the gaps in key positions were getting harder to ignore.
The experienced people Diana had brought on early were solid — they'd kept things running through the startup phase without falling apart.
But an HR leader — someone sharp, strategic, and capable of keeping up with the pace of rapid growth — that slot had stayed empty. And Ethan couldn't find the right fit.
It gave him a real headache. HR was the backbone of any company. Get that wrong and everything else suffered.
His fingers were tapping absently on the new desk, turning the problem over in his head, when a name hit him like a flash.
Sarah.
In his previous life, Sarah had been one of his most valuable people.
She'd been with the company almost from day one — through the grind, through the chaos, through everything. Her abilities were beyond question. Professional, precise, relentless.
And more than that — her loyalty had been tested over and over again across a whole lifetime. Ethan didn't have a single doubt about it.
Now that he was back, he was certain that the core of who Sarah was hadn't changed. Just like Kevin, Marcus, even Nora — their fundamentals were the same. He could see it clearly.
Sarah's backstory, if you knew it, read like a dark comedy that somehow kept going.
She'd launched her first startup with everything she had — full belief, full commitment — and watched it crash completely. Right in the middle of that wreckage, her husband decided it was a good time to walk out. The double hit broke her, and in a moment of desperation, she went up to a rooftop and jumped.
She survived.
That failed attempt — somehow, inexplicably — flipped a switch in her. She took it as a sign that she wasn't done yet. Got back up. Started over.
Second startup.
Failed again.
This time, spiraling back into darkness, she remembered wrist-cutting from TV dramas and decided that seemed more "peaceful."
She worked up the nerve and went through with it.
The pain hit her like a truck. Nobody told her it would hurt that much. And clearly she hadn't figured out the technique, because the wound, though deep, wasn't fatal.
Two weeks of recovery, still drowning in startup debt, now with a fresh scar to show for it.
Somehow, Sarah started a third venture.
It failed.
This time despair swallowed her whole.
She went back to the rooftop. High-rise office building, middle of the night, ready to be done with it for real.
That's where fate got weird.
That same night happened to be the day Ethan had just signed a five-year lease on an office in that exact building. He went up to the roof for a smoke and some air — and found Sarah standing at the edge, face completely set.
His first thought, completely unfiltered, was: I literally just paid five years of rent today and you're going to die on my roof? That is terrible luck and an enormous amount of paperwork.
With that very persuasive core argument — essentially, please don't make this my problem — and a surprising amount of talking, Ethan got her back from the edge.
Sarah, with nowhere else to go, became his first hire.
She was exceptional.
Her previous failures came down to bad luck, thin resources, and going in the wrong direction. Put her inside a real, functioning operation with actual backing, and everything clicked — her management instincts, her eye for talent, her ability to just execute. She became indispensable fast.
Ethan ran the timeline in his head. Based on what Sarah had told him in his previous life, and where things stood right now — she had to be right in the middle of her first failed startup. Husband already gone. At rock bottom. Probably already thinking about the rooftop.
He didn't think twice. He pulled out his phone.
He recalled her number from memory and dialed.
...
Meanwhile,
Sarah's world had gone completely gray.
The debt from the failed startup sat on her chest like a weight she couldn't shift. Her husband leaving was the thing that finally broke it all open.
Everything felt like thick fog with no way through. No light anywhere. The will to keep going had been ground down to nothing.
She walked into a hardware store, the sharp chemical smell hitting her immediately.
"Give me a bottle of pesticide." Her voice came out flat. Dead.
The guy behind the counter didn't even look up. "Which one? What's it for?"
"Doesn't matter." She just wanted it over.
He reached back and grabbed a bottle off the shelf without thinking about it, set it on the counter.
Sarah dropped two bills, grabbed the cold bottle, and walked out.
Back in her apartment, she sat on the couch and stared at it for a long time.
Outside, traffic moved, people went about their lives, the city kept going. In here, time had stopped.
Finally, hands shaking, she twisted off the cap.
The smell hit hard and fast — sharp and chemical, stinging her eyes until they watered.
She pulled together the last of whatever she had left, tipped her head back, ready—
Ring ring ring——!!!
Her phone exploded on the coffee table. The ringtone cut through the silence like a blade.
"What the—" Sarah flinched so hard she nearly dropped the bottle. Her heart was slamming.
Rage and resentment surged up all at once. Can't even get this right without being interrupted?
You better have something important to say. She jabbed the answer button.
"Hello? Is this Sarah? This is Ethan calling from Redwood Capital. We've been really impressed with your background and we'd like to offer you the position of Head of People Operations for the group. Annual salary — starting at $150,000, but we can talk details in person..."
"...Huh?"
Sarah's brain just stopped.
She caught barely half of what he said. Everything was buzzing except for one phrase that kept looping on repeat — $150,000 starting salary.
She looked down at the open bottle on the table. The smell was still there. Then she looked at the unknown number on her phone screen.
Something massive cracked open inside her — equal parts absurdity and a spark of something she hadn't felt in a long time.
Forget the pesticide. Forget all of it.
Almost on reflex, she grabbed the bottle and hurled it into the trash can across the room. It landed with a hard clang.
"I'll be there. Right now." Her voice came out shaking — half survivor, half something close to wild hope.
There are 130 advance chapters ahead in my Patreon. If you are interested can check it out.
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