Ethan walked back inside the massive house, carrying only the evidence bag: the cara, the USB drive, and the printed contracts.
As he entered the dining area, he found Jason had already set the table. The breakfast was simple but looked impeccably done: scrambled eggs, perfectly crisp bacon, toast with butter, and jam. Everything was neatly arranged, a stark contrast to the chaos of the past twenty-four hours.
"Morning, Boss," Jason said, pulling out a chair for Ethan with professional swiftness. "I hope scrambled eggs and bacon are sufficient. I tried to keep it light before we head out."
"Perfect, Jason, thank you," Ethan replied, genuinely touched by the gesture. He sat down and placed the docunts carefully beside his plate. "You really didn’t need to do this. I’ll get that cook hired today."
"It’s truly my pleasure, Boss," Jason insisted, taking the seat opposite him. "It keeps sharp."
They began to eat in comfortable silence for a mont. Ethan then picked up the contract. "Let’s review this thing my father cooked up before we head to the bank."
He flipped through the pages, his eyes scanning the dense, legal text, looking for the critical clause his father had ntioned—the one designed to protect the assets from Vincent Halbert, even after death.
Ethan paused, a spoonful of eggs halfway to his mouth, as he found the relevant section, titled "Covenant of Ultimate Disposition".
"SECTION 4.01: UNCONDITIONAL TERMINATION CLAUSE. Upon the verifiable demise of the Principal (Ethan A. Blake) for any reason, all remaining non-liquidated assets, accounts, and properties held in trust shall be imdiately and irrevocably transferred to the ’Blake Charitable Foundation’ as designated in Schedule B, thereby nullifying all previous bequests or claims from the Executor (Vincent Halbert) or any affiliated party. The purpose is to ensure the complete protection of the Principal’s legacy from hostile acquisition."
Ethan nodded, a faint smile forming. "That’s my dad," he murmured. "A total spiteful genius."
He then looked at the second signature block on the contract—Jason’s. He quickly scanned the subsequent pages, which detailed Jason’s commitnt as Chief of Security and Asset Guardian.
He found the corresponding clause Jason had signed:
"SECTION 4.02: SUBORDINATE OBLIGATION. The undersigned Subordinate (Jason Carter) agrees that in the event the Clause 4.01 is triggered by the Principal’s demise while the Subordinate is actively employed, the Subordinate is legally required to liquidate all remaining Principal’s assets and sell all non-essential property imdiately, transferring all proceeds to the aforentioned charitable foundation. Any attempt to retain or divert funds will result in imdiate criminal prosecution and forfeiture of all accumulated benefits."
Ethan slowly put the paper down, his gaze fixed on Jason, a profound sense of trust blooming in his chest.
"You signed this part," Ethan stated, not as an accusation, but as a realization. "You agreed to sell everything off and give the money away, even if sothing happens to ."
Jason looked him straight in the eye, his expression earnest. "Yes, Boss. Mr. Blake was a good man. He explained the intent. His goal was to protect you and, failing that, to deny that bastard Halbert everything. I fully support that goal. I signed it because it’s the right thing to do. My job is to protect your interests, living or otherwise."
Ethan picked up his fork again, feeling a weight lift from his chest. "Thank you, Jason. That ans a lot. Truly."
He paused, chewing a piece of bacon, then added with a wry smile, "But seriously, don’t worry about Section 4.01. I just got bulletproof skin yesterday. I don’t plan on dying anyti soon."
Jason’s face remained neutral, accustod to his Boss’s strange quips, but a faint, professional curiosity sparked in his eyes. "I sincerely hope not, Boss. We have a lot of work to do."
Ethan sighed inaudibly. He hadn’t ant to blurt out the bulletproof skin comnt, but Jason, thankfully, seed to have either ignored it or simply categorized it as another odd quip from his young boss.
"Anyway," Ethan said, diverting the conversation back to the contract. "I don’t have a computer to open this..." He stopped short. "Wait, yes, I do. It’s hidden."
He bolted from the table, still damp from the pool, and headed toward the main living room. Jason followed closely. Behind the massive 120-inch main screen, Ethan located a concealed compartnt. Inside was a powerful desktop computer, fully connected to the screen and various consoles, as if it were a high-tech dia hub.
Ethan quickly powered up the computer and retrieved the USB drive from the evidence bag. He took it out of its plastic sheath, and imdiately noticed the problem. The drive wasn’t standard; the connection port had a strangely proprietary shape.
Jason took the USB drive from him, turning it over in his hand. "I’ve never seen a port like this, Boss. It’s custom-made. Did your father leave you anything else that might have the matching hardware?"
Ethan frowned, trying to rember the chaotic days following his father’s death. "Yeah, I do. I have a couple of boxes with a lot of my dad’s things that he left sowhere else. But I never opened them—I preferred to store them exactly as they were given to ."
"Who gave you those boxes?" Jason pressed, his protective instincts on high alert. "And why were they given to you if everything should have been in the house where you lived?"
Ethan pieced together the fragnts of that traumatic day. "That whole day was a blur," he recalled, his smile fading. "When I found out my dad had died, they imdiately ca and threw out of the house. They said my mother died in an accident that sa day. Everything happened too fast." He paused, rembering the kindness of his temporary guardians. "I went to stay with so friends, Alfred and Martha, but I didn’t want to be a burden and left after only a few days." He rembered Lilly’s cheerful ass and frowned slightly. "I miss her a lot."
"When I finally found an apartnt," Ethan continued, his voice hardening, "I went back to our house to get my things. They only gave those few boxes. They claid everything else had been sold to cover administrative costs." He realized now, with chilling certainty, "Now that I think about it, they were probably looking for this mory stick too."
Ethan looked at the USB in Jason’s hand. "Why do you have it, Jason?"
Jason’s expression was grave. "The day they ambushed your father, he gave it to secretly. He whispered in my ear never to let Vincent get his hands on it. I always believed the program—the real leverage—was on this drive, but I never had ti to even look at it. I was running and hiding that day. I barely had ti to survive, let alone check the contents. I just ran and buried it until I could retrieve it safely."
Ethan laughed lightly, shaking his head at the ridiculousness of his life. "I guess we need those boxes, then." He clapped Jason lightly on the shoulder. "I’m going to take a quick shower so we can get going. The clock is ticking."
Jason nodded, imdiately beginning to clear the breakfast dishes.
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