Chapter 1

The dinner was supposed to be a celebration, seven years with Sarah, finally meeting her parents formally before the wedding, but the air in their small dining room felt heavy.

David, her deceased brother' s best friend, sat across from me, animated, already on his second glass of wine.

Sarah' s nephew, Michael, picked at his food beside him.

Mr. and Mrs. Miller, Sarah' s parents, watched David with open admiration.

"So, this app idea," David began, leaning forward, "it's a game-changer, guaranteed success."

He talked about algorithms and user engagement, words that sounded impressive but vague.

Sarah, next to me, beamed at him, then at her parents.

"That sounds amazing, David," she said, her voice bright.

She turned to me, a casual smile on her face.

"You know, Ethan, the townhouse would be perfect collateral for David' s startup loan."

My fork clattered onto my plate.

"Or," she continued, oblivious, "we could even sell it. It would give David the capital he needs."

I stared at her. The townhouse. The one I put the down payment on, the one where every mortgage payment came from my adjunct professor salary. The one technically in her name because she' d said it would be "simpler for the paperwork" at the time.

Mr. Miller nodded enthusiastically. "That' s a great idea, Sarah! David needs a leg up."

He looked at me, his expression firm. "Besides, Ethan, you should be looking after David and Michael. They' re family."

Family. David, who I barely knew. Michael, a child caught in this strange dynamic.

Mrs. Miller added, her voice soft but certain, "All our assets will go to David and Michael anyway. They are the future."

Their future, built on my money.

The audacity of it all hit me, a cold wave.

"Sarah," I said, my voice low, "we need to talk about this. That townhouse is a significant investment."

Her smile vanished. "Don't be like that, Ethan. It's for David. For family."

"It's my investment, Sarah," I said, trying to keep my voice even.

"Oh, here we go," she sighed, rolling her eyes. "Always about money with you. Can't you be supportive for once?"

"Supportive?" I felt a laugh, sharp and bitter, rise in my throat. "You want to gamble my entire savings on his 'guaranteed success'?"

"He' s practically my brother!" she snapped. "And Michael needs him!"

Mr. Miller scowled. "Ethan, Sarah is right. You' re being selfish."

Selfish. For wanting to keep what was mine.

The room was silent, everyone looking at me.

I looked at Sarah, at her parents, at David' s smug face.

This wasn' t just about a townhouse anymore. This was about everything.

"The wedding," I said, my voice flat, "is off."