Chapter 2

Ethan packed a single suitcase.

His life in the grand Hayes penthouse barely filled it.

A few clothes, some medical textbooks, a framed photo of his mother.

He left behind the expensive suits Izzy' s stylist had chosen, the art he never liked, the life that was never his.

His movements were methodical, detached.

He was a surgeon preparing for an operation, precise and focused.

His phone buzzed. Izzy.

"Ethan, are you still home? I need you to pick up my dry cleaning. And the caterer for tonight' s Innovatech reception called, they need final numbers. Can you handle it?"

Her voice was brisk, business-like.

No mention of his birthday, no hint she' d noticed his quiet withdrawal the night before.

"I won't be able to, Izzy."

"What? Why not? Don't tell me you have a shift. I cleared your schedule with the hospital for the reception."

He could hear the irritation in her tone.

Her control extended even to his work. Or it used to.

"I'm busy," he said, and hung up before she could argue.

It felt strangely liberating.

He drove to NewYork-Presbyterian, but not for a shift.

Dr. Albright, his former professor and mentor, greeted him with a warm handshake.

"Ethan! Good to see you. Heard from Heidelberg. They' re very keen."

Albright' s office was cluttered, chaotic, but felt more like home than the sterile penthouse.

"They were impressed with your research, even after all this time away from a dedicated surgical track."

Albright had always believed in him, even when Ethan had lost faith in himself.

"You have a gift, son. Don't let it go to waste any longer."

"I've accepted the fellowship, Dr. Albright," Ethan said, the words feeling solid, real.

"I'm leaving for Germany as soon as the visa clears."

Albright beamed. "That' s the best news I' ve heard all year. It' s where you belong."

The validation felt like a balm on a raw wound.

He was finally taking back his career, his passion.

His purpose.

He found Izzy in her sprawling Innovatech office, a temple of glass and steel overlooking the city.

She was on a video call, animated, charming.

He waited until she finished.

"Ethan? What are you doing here? I thought I told you to handle the caterer."

He placed a folder on her polished desk.

"These are for you to sign."

She glanced at it dismissively. "More financial disclosures? Sarah usually handles these."

Sarah was her ever-efficient assistant.

"No, Izzy. These are divorce papers."

She stared at him, then at the folder, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes.

Confusion? Annoyance?

Then, her phone rang. The caller ID flashed: MARCUS VANCE.

Her expression softened instantly.

"Marcus, hi," she said, her voice warm, intimate.

She picked up the folder distractedly, still looking at her phone.

"Adoption papers?" she murmured, more to herself. "Sophia's been on about this for ages. Fine, whatever."

She scribbled her signature on the indicated line without looking at the document, her attention fully on the call.

"Yes, Marcus, I can meet you. Lily wants to see the new park? Of course."

Adoption papers.

The irony was a punch to the gut.

Her mother had suggested adoption to fill the void of their childless marriage.

Izzy had mistaken the most important document of their shared life for a solution to a problem she barely acknowledged.

She was already grabbing her purse, her focus entirely on Marcus.

"I have to go. Lily gets impatient."

She brushed past Ethan, a faint whiff of expensive perfume – not the one she' d gifted him – trailing behind her.

He watched her leave, the signed divorce papers sitting on her desk.

It was done.

He felt a profound sadness, a grief for the man he had been, the love he had once hoped for.

But beneath it, a quiet strength.

He walked out of Innovatech, leaving the key card to the penthouse on Sarah's empty desk.

He didn't look back.

The few happy memories they' d shared in the early days, before the weight of obligation and neglect crushed them, felt like distant echoes from another life.

He took only his suitcase and the photo of his mother.