Chapter 2

The nightmare continued.

He was back in Denver, at his old firm. His partners were congratulating him on his upcoming partnership.

Then Ava was there, beautiful, persuasive.

"Ethan, my art needs Santa Fe. I need you. Your stability, your love. We can build a life there, an amazing life."

Her words, once so enchanting, now sounded like a con artist's pitch.

He remembered the pain of that decision.

Breaking off his engagement to Chloe Davis, his college sweetheart.

Chloe, intelligent, grounded, whose family had been like his own.

He'd told her he'd met someone else, someone who understood his soul in a way no one else could.

He'd severed ties with his own family, who had disapproved of his sudden move and Ava's influence.

"She's using you, Ethan," his father had warned.

He hadn't listened.

Ava had been so convincing.

Her affection seemed unwavering. Grand gestures.

The boutique hotel she "gifted" him to manage – he now realized it was likely bought with money he thought was their joint savings, his nest egg from his Denver career.

Her constant excuses for not having children with him.

"My art needs all my focus right now, darling. A child would divide me."

It was always about her art, her needs.

The most elaborate gesture: the "anniversary gift."

A rare desert bloom in the Santa Fe Botanical Garden, unofficially "named" the "Ethan Miller Bloom" through a hefty donation she made.

He'd been so touched. A symbol of their unique, enduring love.

Now it felt like a cruel joke, a public branding of her property.

His dream shifted.

He was in a dark room. Julian Vance stood there, smirking.

"She's my wife, Miller. Always has been."

Ava was beside Julian, holding a small child's hand – Maya.

Ava looked at Ethan, her eyes cold, indifferent.

"We don't need you anymore," she said.

He woke with a gasp, heart pounding.

The bedroom was dark, Ava breathing softly beside him.

He reached out, needing reassurance, any sign that the nightmare wasn't real.

"Ava?" he whispered. "Who am I to you?"

She stirred, turning to him, her voice sleepy and affectionate.

"You're my husband, silly. My rock. Go back to sleep."

She kissed his forehead.

Her phone on the nightstand buzzed. She glanced at it.

"It's Julian," she murmured, already getting out of bed. "He's having some crisis with his Berlin application. I need to take this."

She slipped out of the room.

Superficial reassurance, then immediate contradiction.

Ethan lay there, the dream's chill clinging to him.

His own phone rang. An unknown number.

He answered. "Hello?"

"Mr. Miller? This is Director Agnes from the European Children's Services. We're calling regarding Maya Thornton. There's been a slight issue with her paperwork from her previous care arrangement."

Maya Thornton. Not Maya Miller.

He heard Ava's voice from the hallway, urgent, soothing.

"Julian, calm down. We'll fix it. I'll wire the money. Don't worry about Maya, she's fine here with me... with us."

Ethan got out of bed, drawn to the sound.

Ava was in the living room, pacing, her back to him. Julian was on speakerphone, his voice distraught.

"She needs her medication, Ava! They almost didn't let me board with her because of the temporary guardianship papers! If I lose this residency because of this..."

"Julian, darling, it will be fine," Ava cooed. "I told you, I'm handling everything. Maya is our daughter. No one will question that once things are settled."

Our daughter.

The words hit Ethan with physical force.

Ava's mother, Eleanor, suddenly appeared from the guest wing, looking flustered.

"Ava, is everything alright? I heard shouting."

Eleanor had been visiting for the past week, doting on Maya, praising Ava's "bravery" in taking on a child.

"It's fine, Mother," Ava said, her voice tight. "Just Julian being dramatic about Maya."

Eleanor looked relieved. "Ah, Julian. He always was a handful. But that marriage was a smart move for his visa, dear. And it kept things quiet while you were building your career before... well, before Ethan."

Ethan felt cold. Eleanor knew. She was in on it.

He remembered all the times Eleanor had subtly pitied him for not having children with Ava, the knowing glances.

Ava ended the call with Julian.

She turned, saw Ethan standing there. Her composure didn't slip.

"Ethan, darling. Just a little family drama. Julian gets so stressed."

She walked towards him, then past him, towards the kitchen.

"Coffee?" she asked, as if nothing was wrong.

He followed her, a strange calm settling over him.

"Ava," he said. "Maya's birth certificate. When was she born?"

Ava paused, her hand on the coffee machine.

"Why do you ask, Ethan?"

"I'd just like to know."

"It's in my files. I'll find it for you later."

Later. Always later.

He went to Ava's office. It wasn't hard to find Maya's documents. Ava was surprisingly disorganized with personal papers.

Maya Thornton. Born five years and two months ago.

Julian Vance listed as father. Ava Thornton as mother.

Five years and two months.

Ava had been pregnant with Julian's child when she met Ethan.

During their whirlwind romance, their "destination wedding" in Taos.

She had been pregnant with another man's child. Her legal husband's child.

Rage, cold and sharp, flooded him.

He walked back to the kitchen. Ava was sipping her coffee, scrolling through her phone.

"I won't be adopting Maya," he said, his voice flat.

Ava looked up, her eyes narrowing.

"What did you say?"

"I said, I will not be formally adopting Maya."

She stood up, slamming her mug on the counter.

"And why the hell not, Ethan? After all I've done to bring her here, to give us a family! Are you that cold-hearted? She's a child who needs a father!"

Julian walked in then, looking rumpled and annoyed.

"What's all the shouting? Is he still being difficult about Maya?"

Julian looked at Ethan with a smirk. "Come on, Miller. Step up. Be a dad. It's not that hard."

Ethan turned to Julian. "She already has a father, doesn't she, Vance? Why haven't you stepped up?"

Ava rushed to Julian's side.

"Don't you talk to him like that, Ethan! Julian has been through a lot. He needs support, not accusations! His career is at a delicate stage!"

Her priority was always Julian's career. Julian's needs.

Ethan remembered all the subtle digs, the pitying looks from Ava's social circle about their childless marriage.

Ava had never defended him. Never corrected them.

He realized now she'd probably encouraged it, this image of him as perhaps unwilling or unable to be a father.

He looked at Ava, a final, desperate plea in his heart, though his mind knew the answer.

"Did you ever, even for a moment, want a child with me, Ava? A real child, ours?"

Ava scoffed, turning away.

"My art is my child, Ethan. You know that. And right now, Maya needs a stable home, and Julian needs to focus on his residency. This adoption is for the best, for everyone."

For everyone except him.

The last flicker of hope inside him died. He felt a profound weariness.

He saw Julian watching him, a triumphant glint in his eyes. Julian wasn't just a parasite; he was an ambitious parasite. He wanted to replace Ethan completely.

Ethan felt a sudden, surprising detachment.

Let them have their mess.

He was done.

"Fine," Ethan said quietly. "Do whatever you need to do."

He turned to leave the kitchen.

Julian, quick as a snake, stuck out his foot.

Ethan, caught off guard, stumbled, his arm catching the edge of the stone countertop. Pain shot up to his shoulder.

He saw Julian clutch his own arm, wincing dramatically.

"He pushed me!" Julian cried out, looking at Ava. "He attacked me!"

Ava rushed to Julian, her face a mask of fury directed at Ethan.

"Ethan! How could you? Julian is our guest! If you've hurt him, I swear..."

Ethan stared at them, his arm throbbing.

His "wife" and her legal husband, her lover, the father of her child.

He was the outsider. The fool.

He walked out of the kitchen, out of the house.

He needed to call Chloe. He wasn't sure why her name came to him, but it did.

He drove to the boutique hotel, his "gift."

He sat in his office, the Santa Fe sun mocking him.

He found Chloe Davis's law firm number online. She was a partner now. Environmental law. Respected.

He dialed, his hand shaking slightly.

"Chloe Davis speaking."

Her voice, calm, professional. Unchanged.

"Chloe, it's Ethan. Ethan Miller."

A silence. Then, "Ethan. Well, this is a surprise. What can I do for you? Suing a cactus for emotional distress?"

Her old dry wit. It almost made him smile.

"Chloe, I... I need to ask you something. About us. Our engagement. Was it... is it still, you know, legally filed anywhere? As broken?"

A longer pause.

"Still digging yourself out of messes, Miller?" she said, a hint of something unreadable in her voice. "As a matter of fact, no. No official dissolution was ever filed. We just... stopped. Why? Did your 'artistic muse' turn out to be a fraud?"

Her words were direct. Almost prophetic.

He felt a strange, desperate hope.