Chapter 3

"I want a divorce, Alexis."

I said it a few days later, standing in our cold, opulent living room. A room that felt more like a showroom than a home.

She was on a call, planning a "brand activation event" with Ethan.

She muted the call, looked at me, and laughed. A short, sharp sound.

"Oh, Jake, don' t be so dramatic. You' re just stressed from the tournament."

She unmuted her call. "Sorry, Ethan, Jake' s just having a moment."

A moment. Seven years, dismissed as a moment.

That night, I couldn' t sleep. I wandered through the house.

In my old office, a small room I rarely used anymore, I found a dusty box.

Inside, an old photo.

Me and Alexis, years ago. Squeezed onto a tiny couch in our first apartment, cheap takeout containers on the floor, holding a makeshift trophy we' d made from cardboard after winning a tiny local tournament.

We were broke, exhausted, but we were smiling. Genuinely happy.

The contrast to our life now – the sprawling, empty condo, the polite dinners, her obsession with image – it hit me hard.

That happiness was gone. Replaced by... this.

My decision solidified. This wasn't a moment; it was the end.

The next morning, I made a call.

"Mr. Harrison, it' s Jake. Jake Miller."

Harrison owned Omega Protocol, a rival organization, but one I' d always respected. They valued skill, loyalty. Old school, in the best way.

"Jake! What a surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure?" Harrison' s voice was warm, genuine. He' d always been an admirer of my play style.

"I' m looking to make a change, Mr. Harrison. And I have a few talented young players who' d follow me."

"Omega Protocol would be honored to have you, Jake. A lead role, full strategic control. And yes, we' ll take care of your prospects. Better contracts, proper support. Send me their details."

No hesitation. No talk of "brand appeal." Just respect for talent.

A wave of relief washed over me. There was a way out. For me, and for the kids I' d mentored.

I hung up, a small, determined smile on my face.

New horizons.