Chapter 1

Ethan Cole knew the drill.

His birthday. Another one.

The grand New York apartment felt hollow, the silence only broken by the distant hum of city traffic.

He glanced at the expensive watch on his wrist, a gift from Izzy two years ago.

She was late. Again.

A single, untouched plate with a slice of store-bought cake sat on the marble island.

He' d bought it himself.

The candles were still in the box.

The chime of the private elevator announced an arrival.

Not Izzy.

Sophia Hayes, Izzy' s mother, walked in.

Her smile was warm, a stark contrast to the cool elegance of the apartment.

"Ethan, dear. Happy birthday."

She held out a neatly wrapped gift.

"I know Isabella is... busy."

Sophia' s eyes held a hint of apology.

She understood. She always did.

"Thank you, Sophia. You didn't have to."

"Nonsense. You' re family."

Family. The word felt strange.

Sophia' s hand felt warm on his arm, a brief, comforting pressure.

The house always felt a little warmer when Sophia visited, but his hands remained cold.

Sophia sighed, looking around the minimalist living room.

"This was never what I envisioned for either of you."

Ethan knew what she meant.

Five years ago, the I-95 pile-up.

He, a surgical resident, had pulled Izzy from the wreckage of her car.

His own mother, in the car behind, hadn't been so lucky.

The injuries were severe, the medical bills astronomical.

The Hayes family, grateful, had offered a solution.

A marriage.

Izzy needed a stable, presentable husband after her messy public breakup with Marcus Vance.

Ethan needed his mother' s bills paid.

A transaction.

Sophia had been against it, but Izzy and her father had insisted.

"Isabella was so heartbroken over Marcus then," Sophia said softly, as if reading his mind. "She thought this was... a shield."

A shield that had become a cage for him.

Marcus Vance. The name still left a bitter taste.

Izzy' s college sweetheart.

He was back in New York, back in Izzy' s orbit.

The late nights at "Innovatech," Izzy' s tech empire, had become more frequent.

Ethan wasn't naive.

He knew the calls Izzy took in hushed tones weren't always about server capacities or market shares.

Marcus was a shadow, always present, always a reminder of what Ethan wasn't.

The reason for Izzy' s increasing distance was clear.

Sophia watched him, her expression kind.

"You deserve happiness, Ethan. Real happiness."

Her words, though gentle, were a permission slip he hadn't realized he was waiting for.

"I know," he said, his voice quiet but firm.

He' d made his decision.

The prestigious surgical fellowship in Germany. An acceptance letter lay hidden in his desk drawer.

A new life.

"I'm filing for divorce, Sophia."

She didn't look surprised.

A sad smile touched her lips. "It' s about time, Ethan. You' ve given enough."

The main door opened. Izzy.

She looked immaculate, powerful, every inch the CEO.

She barely glanced at him or her mother.

"Sophia. Ethan." A curt nod.

She tossed a small, exquisitely wrapped gift onto the counter.

"Happy birthday, Ethan. Sorry I'm late. Board meeting ran over."

She was already scrolling through her phone.

"Marcus is having an issue with the new prototype, I need to..."

Her voice trailed off as she focused on her screen.

Ethan picked up the gift. It was heavy. Perfume.

A scent he knew. The one Marcus always wore.

Clearly intended for her old flame, re-gifted without a thought.

It wasn't even a mistake. It was indifference.

The final cut.

He didn't say anything.

Izzy handed him an envelope. "Sign this. It's for the lawyers. Standard quarterly review of assets."

Money. Always money.

She didn't even look at him as she said it.

Later, after Sophia had left, after Izzy had retreated to her home office, presumably on a call with Marcus, Ethan drove to the cemetery.

The city lights faded behind him.

He stood before his mother' s grave.

The small, simple stone was a stark contrast to the Hayes family mausoleum nearby.

"I tried, Mom," he whispered, the words catching in his throat.

"I really tried. For five years. For you."

He placed a small, wilting bouquet he' d picked up from a bodega.

"But I can't do it anymore. It's time for me."

He pulled out the divorce papers he' d had his own lawyer draft.

Not the asset review Izzy had given him.

"I'm going to Germany. I'm going to be a surgeon again. The kind you always wanted me to be."

A sense of release, cold and sharp, washed over him.

The grief for the life he' d put on hold was immense, but so was the resolve.

This was not just an ending. It was a reclamation.