Chapter 2

Sera recovered quickly, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes before she smoothed it away.

"Oh," she said, a little breathless. "Well, good. That's... easier than I thought."

She rushed on, "It's just for appearances, Ethan. After the baby is born, after things settle down with River's career, we can... we can get remarried. Quietly. No one needs to know."

False hope, a cheap lie to keep me compliant.

Last time, I might have clung to that. This time, it was just noise.

"Of course, Sera," I said. "Whatever you think is best."

My mind was already elsewhere, calculating.

Amsterdam.

There was a music tech firm there, a cutting-edge company. They' d approached me months ago, a tentative offer. I' d dismissed it then, tied to Sera, to LA.

Now, it was a lifeline.

As Sera talked about lawyers and "amicable settlements," I was already drafting an email in my head.

"I knew you' d understand," she said, relief making her voice almost warm. "You always do."

Yes, I always had. Understood her ambition, her needs, her desires, always above my own.

No more.

"I'll start looking for a new place tomorrow," I said, preempting her next, more uncomfortable request.

"Oh, Ethan, you don't have to rush..." she started, but her eyes said otherwise.

The plan was forming, cold and precise. Protect my family. Get them out. Then, dismantle hers.

The next days were a blur of forced smiles and quiet planning.

I contacted the Amsterdam firm. They were still interested, eager even.

I told my parents, David and Sarah, and my sister, Chloe.

Not everything, not the fire, not the rebirth. Just that Sera and I were splitting, that I had a new opportunity overseas, a chance for a fresh start for all of us.

They were shocked about Sera, of course. They' d loved her like a daughter.

But they saw the strain in my eyes, the shadows I couldn't hide. They trusted me.

"Whatever you need, Ethan," Dad said, his hand firm on my shoulder.

Mom just hugged me, a long, silent embrace that spoke volumes.

Chloe, ever practical, started researching international movers.

Their support was a bedrock. This time, I would not fail them.

Then, River Stone moved in.

Into my home. The one I designed, the one where every note of Sera' s first hit album was written.

He sauntered in, all leather jacket and smirking arrogance, a guitar case slung over his shoulder.

Sera was with him, a nervous energy about her as she watched my reaction.

"Ethan, River's just going to stay for a bit," she said, avoiding my eyes. "It's... easier for the narrative. For the press."

River leaned against the doorframe of the master bedroom, my bedroom.

"Nice place, Miller," he drawled, looking around with an owner's gaze. "Sera has good taste."

He winked at her. She blushed.

The humiliation was a familiar burn, but this time, it fueled a cold resolve.

I nodded. "Make yourselves comfortable."

I started packing a bag, moving my things to the guest room.

Every item I touched was a reminder of a life I was systematically erasing.

Sera watched me, a flicker of guilt in her eyes. "Ethan, I..."

"It's fine, Sera," I said, my voice flat. "It makes sense."

River' s laughter echoed from the master bedroom.

I clenched my fists, the urge to smash something, to wipe that smirk off his face, almost overwhelming.

But not yet. Patience.

I became a ghost in my own house.

Sera and River paraded their affection openly, a performance for an audience of one.

They' d kiss in the kitchen while I made coffee.

His music, loud and grating, would fill the house.

He' d leave his clothes on my chair.

Small provocations, designed to break me.

I documented everything.

My phone became my silent witness.

Covert audio recordings of Sera' s late-night "apologies" after she' d been with River.

"Ethan, I'm sorry if this is hard for you," she' d whisper at my guest room door. "But River needs me right now. He' s very sensitive."

Sensitive. Right.

I recorded her manipulative statements, her justifications, her casual dismissal of our seven years.

River, in his supreme arrogance, even helped.

One night, my phone buzzed. A video message. From him.

It was them, in my bed, Sera laughing, looking at the camera River held.

The caption: "Keeping her warm for you, buddy. ;) "

My stomach churned, but my finger hit 'save.'

More evidence.

I also gathered every contract, every royalty statement, every demo tape that proved my financial and creative contributions to Sera's empire.

The songs I wrote, the sound I crafted. Her entire career was built on my back.

The dossier was growing.