Chapter 3

Eleanor found Ethan in the dim light of the guest room, staring at the medical report.

"Still trying to manipulate us, Ethan?" she asked, her voice devoid of warmth. "Jake is fragile. Your games are making him worse."

She dismissed his illness with a wave of her hand. "You're just seeking revenge on your brother."

Ethan looked up at his mother, at the woman who had orchestrated his ruin.

"I ordered your incarceration," Eleanor stated, her voice cold and precise. "I approved the methods used at the facility. The scars. All of it. If you want to be angry, be angry with me."

She paused, her eyes like chips of ice. "Don't direct it at Jake. He's suffered enough because of you."

Ethan felt a chilling clarity. There was no love here for him, only for Jake.

"Your presence here," Eleanor continued, her tone almost casual, "it complicates things for Jake. His position in the company. His future."

The family's lucrative East Coast real estate empire. His birthright.

Eleanor placed a set of documents on the table. Share transfer forms.

"Sign these," she said. "Everything goes to Jake. It's for the best."

Ethan picked up the pen. What did it matter now? He was dying. The shares, the money, it meant nothing.

He signed his name, the ink a final severing.

"Am I still your son, Mother?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Eleanor didn't answer. She simply took the signed documents.

"Jake's 25th birthday gala is next week," she said, her tone brisk, business-like. "You will attend. And you will publicly apologize to him. It will be a resolution. For the family."

Ethan nodded, a sense of utter defeat washing over him.

He would do it. One last humiliation.

And then, he would leave. He would find a quiet place to die, far away from this family.

He resolved it then and there. After the gala, he would disappear from their lives forever.