Chapter 3

Ethan bent to pick up the locket, his hand shaking slightly.

He just wanted his tools, his savings, the vintage guitar he' d restored, the one he' d planned to give Jessica as a wedding present.

It was in his old room, the one he still used sometimes when working late at Mr. Miller's.

As he straightened, Brandon and two of his smirking friends stepped onto the porch, blocking his way back into the house.

"Leaving so soon, grease monkey?" Brandon sneered.

Ethan tried to push past them.

Brandon shoved him back hard. "Not so fast."

One of Brandon's friends grabbed Ethan' s arm, twisting it.

Pain shot up to his shoulder.

Ethan gritted his teeth.

Jessica watched, her arms crossed, a small, satisfied smile on her face.

"He' s always been a bit of a loser, can' t take a hint," she said to Brandon, loud enough for Ethan to hear.

Her words cut deeper than any punch.

This was Jessica, his Jessica.

Or the Jessica he thought he knew.

Mr. Miller just grumbled about his whiskey again.

Ethan felt a sudden, cold clarity.

These people, they weren't his family, not anymore, if they ever truly were.

He broke free from the grip, a surge of adrenaline dulling the pain.

He wouldn't fight them, not here, not like this.

He looked at Jessica one last time.

"I'll be back for my things," he said, his voice surprisingly steady.

He walked away from the house, from the party, from the life he thought was his.

The laughter followed him down the street.

Once around the corner, out of sight, he pulled out his phone.

His fingers fumbled slightly as he found the number he' d been given just a week ago, a number he never thought he' d use.

Mr. Harrison. The representative of the family he never knew, the biological parents who had finally found him.

The phone rang twice.

"Harrison," a calm, professional voice answered.

"Mr. Harrison," Ethan said, his breath catching, "it's Ethan. Ethan Riley. I... I think I' m ready to meet them."