Charles noticed. His concern deepened. "Does this have something to do with that little girl?"
The room grew quiet. Ethan didn't answer; that answer was enough.
Charles shook his head. "Ethan, this needs to stop."
"There it is."
"There what is?"
"The same thing Daniel keeps saying."
"Because Daniel is right." Ethan's jaw tightened. Charles continued, "You're letting a child influence major decisions."
"She's asking questions."
"She's a nine-year-old!"
"And nobody else asked them."
Charles rubbed his forehead. The conversation wasn't going the way he expected. He changed tactics: "You know people are talking."
Ethan looked up. "What people?"
"Everyone." Charles crossed his arms. "Board members, investors, reporters, employees." The silence became uncomfortable. Then Charles delivered the final blow: "There's a video."
Ethan frowned. "A video?"
Charles opened his phone, tapped the screen, and turned it around. Ethan stared. His stomach dropped.
Someone had filmed Maya washing his feet. The clip wasn't long: thirty seconds, maybe less. Yet somehow it looked far worse than reality: a billionaire in a wheelchair, a poor little girl kneeling before him, a bucket, herbs, water. The footage ended with Maya smiling.
The internet had done the rest: millions of views, thousands of comments. Some mocked Ethan, others mocked Maya, many mocked both. The headlines were even worse: Billionaire trusts street child over doctors.
Mogul turns to folk healing.
Has Ethan Caldwell lost his mind?
Ethan felt anger rise inside him—not because people were mocking him, but because they were mocking Maya: a child, a kind child, one who had never asked for anything.
Charles carefully studied his reaction. "This is becoming a problem."
"For who?"
"For everyone."
Ethan looked away. The answer told him everything: this wasn't about protecting him; this was about protecting reputations, protecting appearances, protecting the image people preferred—the image of a powerful man who accepted defeat quietly, not one who started asking uncomfortable questions.
Meanwhile, several miles away, Maya had no idea any of this was happening. She spent her afternoon exactly the way she spent most afternoons: helping.