Chapter 1

Ethan Miller walked out of the Chino State Prison gates.

The heavy steel clanged shut behind him, a period at the end of five years.

California sun felt too bright on his face.

He carried a cheap duffel bag with his few belongings.

A bus ticket to Los Angeles. Some cash.

His cough was a familiar friend now, deep and rattling.

He knew where he had to go first.

The free clinic was crowded, smelled of disinfectant and despair.

Dr. Ramirez was young, tired, but kind.

She looked at the X-rays on the light board.

Then she looked at Ethan.

"It's lung cancer, Ethan. Stage four."

He nodded slowly. He'd figured as much. The old wing of the prison, full of asbestos. They all knew.

"How long?"

"Without aggressive treatment, a few months. Maybe six, if you're lucky."

Treatment he couldn't afford and didn't want.

"Thank you, Doctor."

He left. The diagnosis didn't change anything, just put a clock on it.

His next stop was a small, discreet office downtown.

"Final Journey Services." The sign was tasteful.

A quiet woman named Ms. Pereda listened to his request.

"Cremation," Ethan said, his voice raspy.

"And the ashes... I want them scattered. At the Grand Canyon."

He pulled a folded, faded page from a travel magazine out of his wallet.

A picture of a remote viewpoint, vast and silent.

"This exact spot. North Rim. Point Sublime."

He and Olivia had picked it out, years ago, dreaming of forever.

Ms. Pereda noted the details.

"It's a special request. It will cost extra."

Ethan pushed a roll of cash across the desk.

"This is the deposit. Saved it up inside."

Meager earnings from prison jobs. Years of it.

"I'll get the rest."

He had to. This was the only thing that mattered now.

He needed money, fast.

A friend from his old life, one who hadn't turned his back, knew a guy.

Cash-in-hand job. Valet.

An ultra-exclusive restaurant in Beverly Hills. The kind with no sign.

Tips were legendary.

His first shift. The air hummed with money and power.

He parked Bentleys and Ferraris, trying to ignore the pain in his chest.

Then a familiar car pulled up. A sleek black Mercedes.

Olivia Hayes stepped out.

His breath caught. She was more beautiful than he remembered. Colder, too.

With her was Marcus Thorne.

Ethan's former best friend. Now Olivia's fiancé.

Olivia saw him. Her eyes, once full of love, narrowed.

A flicker of shock, then pure, unadulterated hatred.

"Ethan?" Her voice was ice.

Marcus smirked, a possessive arm around Olivia's waist.

"Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in."

Ethan stood stoic, his face a mask. Humiliation burned, but he kept it locked down.

He just needed the money. For the canyon. For Olivia, in a way she'd never understand.

He remembered the night it all went wrong.

The fundraiser at the Hayes estate. Senator Hayes, Olivia's father, schmoozing.

Eleanor, Olivia's mother, always fragile.

Ethan was working event staff, a summer job.

He saw Eleanor's mood shift. The glitter in her eyes turning manic.

She started shouting at Senator McKinley, a political rival.

Accusations of corruption, then she lunged, slapped him hard.

Cameras flashed. A feeding frenzy.

Ethan was the one who reached her, gently pulled her away.

Got her inside, calmed her down. She was sobbing, terrified.

"Don't tell anyone, Ethan. Please. Robert will be ruined."

Later that night, she begged him to drive her car away from the estate, to make it look like she'd left. He did.

As he drove down the long, dark driveway, a figure darted from the trees.

Eleanor.

He slammed the brakes. Too late.

The thud. The silence.

He knelt beside her. Lifeless.

He knew, in that instant, what he had to do.

For Olivia. To protect her from the truth of her mother's despair, her suicide.

To save Senator Hayes from the scandal that would destroy him.

He'd wiped his prints from her car, put his on the wheel of his own junker parked nearby, moved her.

He told the police he'd been drinking, that he'd been speeding down the private road.

Vehicular manslaughter.

Olivia's screams of "Murderer!" still echoed in his nightmares.

He'd lost her, lost everything. But he'd kept her secret. Their secret.

Marcus's friends, a pack of slick young men in expensive suits, walked past.

One of them "accidentally" bumped Ethan, hard.

"Watch it, convict," he sneered.

Ethan gritted his teeth, said nothing.

Olivia watched, a cruel smile playing on her lips.

She walked over to him.

"So, this is what you're doing now, Ethan? Parking cars?"

Her voice dripped with contempt.

"It's honest work, Olivia."

"Is it?" She looked him up and down. "I have a proposition for you."

He waited.

"I need a temporary driver. For my foundation events. Personal errands too."

She named a sum. More than he could make in weeks parking cars.

Enough for the Grand Canyon.

"Why me?"

"Let's just say I like to keep my enemies close," she said, her eyes glittering with something dark. "And I want you to see what you threw away. Every single day."

He knew it was a trap. A way for her to inflict more pain.

But the Grand Canyon. Their promise.

"I'll do it."