Chapter 1

Ethan stood by the towering windows of the Vanderbilt penthouse.

The city lights spread below like scattered jewels.

He wore a suit that cost more than his grandparents' entire farm.

It felt like a costume.

Victoria Vanderbilt, his wife, entered the room.

Her diamonds glittered. Her voice was sharp.

"Ethan, darling. The Carsons are here. Try not to... mumble."

Her smile didn't reach her eyes.

He nodded. Words caught in his throat, a familiar knot.

She sighed, a small, impatient sound.

"Just... be charming. Like you were when I found you."

Found him. Like a stray she'd taken in.

He was from a trailer park near Pittsburgh. She was a Vanderbilt.

The contrast was a chasm they lived across every day.

Her hand was on his arm, fingers tight. Control. Absolute.

Vicky's laugh echoed in the grand hall, bright and false.

She moved through her party, a queen in her court.

Ethan trailed behind her, a silent shadow.

He tried to speak to a guest, a senator.

"G-g-good evening, S-senator."

The man's smile faltered. Vicky swept in.

"Ethan is just a little overwhelmed, Senator. He's not used to such... stimulating company."

Her words were a caress and a cut, all at once.

Later, when they were alone, her tone changed.

The charm vanished. Ice remained.

"You embarrassed me, Ethan."

"I... I t-tried."

"Trying isn't enough. You are a Vanderbilt now. You must be perfect."

She saw him as a project. Something to mold.

Her love was a vise, crushing him.

The next morning, a man named Julian Astor arrived.

He was all smooth smiles and expensive cologne.

Vicky's eyes lit up when she saw him.

A new, shiny toy.

Julian quickly became a fixture in their lives.

Then, Julian vanished.

Vicky turned on Ethan, her face a mask of fury.

"Where is he? Where is Julian?"

Ethan shook his head. "I... I d-don't know."

"Liar! You're jealous. You've done something to him."

Her voice rose to a shriek.

"Tell me where he is, or your precious grandparents will pay. Their farm? Gone. Them? On the streets. Begging."

The threat hung in the air, heavy and suffocating.

His grandparents. His only real family.

The people who had shown him kindness in a harsh world.

Ethan's hands trembled. He tried to write on a notepad, his pen skittering.

*Vicky, I swear. I don't know.*

She snatched the note, crumpled it.

"Words are easy, Ethan. Especially for you, when you can't even speak them properly."

Her cruelty was a casual thing for her.

He gestured frantically, shaking his head, his eyes pleading.

She watched him, unmoved.

Her face was cold, her decision made.

"You have one hour to tell me. Or they suffer."

He felt a familiar despair, a crushing helplessness.

His stutter, always worse under stress, choked him.

He could only make small, strangled sounds.

Vicky paced the room, her silk robe flowing around her.

"I loved you, Ethan. I plucked you from obscurity. I gave you everything."

Her voice was low, almost a hiss.

"And this is how you repay me? By hurting Julian? By defying me?"

She believed her own narrative. That she was the benevolent savior.

That her control was a form of love.

"You belong to me, Ethan. You will not leave me. You will not disobey me."

The hour passed in silence, broken only by Vicky's furious muttering and Ethan's ragged breaths.

He had no information to give. Julian's disappearance was a mystery to him.

The phone rang. Vicky snatched it up.

Her expression changed as she listened.

A slow, cruel smile spread across her face.

She hung up.

"It's done," she said, her voice dripping with satisfaction.

"The foreclosure papers are filed. They'll be serving your grandparents notice any minute."

Ethan stared at her, his blood running cold.

"N-no..."

"Oh, yes. But that's not all."

She walked to a large screen on the wall. It flickered to life.

A live video feed. His grandparents' small farmhouse.

Two grim-faced men were knocking on the door.

His grandfather, frail and confused, opened it.

His grandmother stood behind him, her hand to her mouth.

The men handed them papers.

Then, a bulldozer rumbled into view.

It moved towards the old, weather-beaten barn, the heart of their small farm.

"V-Vicky... p-please... st-stop..."

She laughed. "Stop? Why would I stop, Ethan? You brought this on them."

The bulldozer's engine roared.

It crashed into the side of the barn. Wood splintered. The structure groaned.

His grandmother screamed, a thin, terrified sound that Ethan felt in his bones.

She clutched her chest and collapsed.

His grandfather rushed to her side, his face a mask of terror.

The video feed cut out.

Vicky turned to him, her eyes gleaming.

"Dead, I imagine. A heart attack. So tragic. All your fault, Ethan."

He sank to his knees, a silent scream trapped in his chest.

His world shattered.

The pain was a physical thing, tearing through him.

Grandma... gone. Grandpa... alone, losing everything.

Because of him. Because of Vicky.

A cold rage, something he'd never felt before, began to smolder in the ashes of his despair.

Revenge.

The word formed in his mind, clear and sharp.

He would make her pay. He would make them all pay.

He looked up at Vicky, his face unreadable.

The stutter was gone, locked away with his grief.

He needed a weapon. Not a physical one. Something more insidious.

Something that would destroy her world as she had destroyed his.

He thought of Marc. His friend. His only ally.

Marc would help. Marc always helped.

He was a ghost in the Vanderbilt mansion for the next few days.

Vicky, believing she had broken him completely, left him alone.

Then, Julian Astor was "found."

In a seedy motel, claiming amnesia and trauma.

Vicky paraded him back to the mansion, fussing over him like a prized pet.

Ethan watched them from the shadows.

Vicky called Ethan to the main drawing-room.

Julian was lounging on a sofa, looking pale and interesting. Vicky was by his side, stroking his hand.

"Ethan," Vicky said, her voice like chips of ice. "Julian is back. He was terribly mistreated. You will apologize to him."

Apologize? For what? For Julian's own schemes?

Ethan stared at Julian. The man met his gaze with a faint, triumphant smirk.

The humiliation was a fresh wound.

He shook his head slowly.

"N-no."