Chapter 4

Ethan's tech empire exploded. Money poured in, changing everything.

Around the same time, Chloe' s family faced financial ruin. Her minor celebrity status was fading.

She re-entered Ethan' s life, a damsel in distress, playing the victim card she played so well.

Ethan, already distant, already changed by wealth and power, fell for it.

I was pregnant with Leo then.

Hyperemesis gravidarum. I was sick, constantly. Weak.

Then, premature labor. Leo was tiny, fragile.

While I recovered, slowly, painfully, Chloe insinuated herself into our home.

She became Leo' s primary caregiver, her scent, her voice, becoming his first comfort.

She subtly, skillfully, alienated him from me.

Ethan, convinced by Chloe that I was unstable, had me heavily medicated.

"Postpartum depression," he' d said, his eyes cold. "Severe."

I was almost institutionalized. A prisoner in my own luxurious house.

During that fog of medication and despair, Chloe made her move.

She released my entire catalog of songs. My words, my melodies, my heart.

She launched herself to global stardom on the back of my stolen life.

Years passed. Leo was eventually returned to my primary care, a small mercy.

He was distant, conditioned by Chloe, but he was mine.

Then, the fire.

It broke out in the main house, late one night.

Ethan was drunk, passed out. I dragged him to safety, choking on smoke, my lungs burning.

I saved his life.

Chloe, of course, twisted it.

She wasn' t even there, but she claimed the smoke had critically damaged her lungs, her heart.

She accused me of arson. Of trying to destroy "her" home, steal "her" things.

Ethan, enraged, believing every lie she spun, finally snapped.

He had the "accident" arranged. The one that put me in the wheelchair.

Then, this confinement. This slow, living death.

The great betrayal, complete.