Chapter 4

The National Design Award. Ethan could still feel the weight of the trophy in his hand, the applause washing over him. He' d done it. He was on his way. Sera was in the audience, her smile radiant, a promise of the future they' d always talked about.

He' d planned to propose that night, after the gala, a ring burning a hole in his pocket.

Then Marcus Thorne, Sera's cousin, had made his grand entrance. Just back from a lauded military tour, a bona fide war hero, dripping with charisma and an easy confidence that Ethan, despite his achievements, always felt he lacked.

Sera' s attention had shifted, subtly at first, then undeniably.

Ethan remembered trying to talk to her, to pull her aside, but Marcus was always there, a charming barrier.

The tension built throughout the evening. Ethan felt a growing unease, a premonition of disaster.

He saw Sera and Marcus in a heated, whispered conversation near the grand staircase. Sera looked distressed, Marcus insistent.

Later, during a lull, Sera approached him, her face pale. Marcus was a step behind her.

"Ethan," she'd said, her voice tight, "Marcus has asked me to accompany him to the Wellbourne benefit next week. As his date."

Ethan was stunned. "What? Sera, we always go to the Wellbourne together. And what about... us?"

Marcus stepped forward. "Old traditions change, Miller. Sera needs an escort who can, shall we say, match her station now."

"Match her station?" Ethan' s anger flared. "And what does that mean?"

Sera looked torn. "Ethan, please. It' s just... complicated."

"Complicated how, Sera?" he pressed, his voice rising, drawing attention. "Are you saying you're choosing him over me?"

Her eyes darted around the room, at the curious onlookers, then back to him, a flicker of defiance hardening her expression.

"Perhaps I am, Ethan," she said, her voice suddenly clear and cold. "Marcus is a hero. He understands duty, family. Maybe it's time I chose someone who isn't afraid to claim what he wants."

The words were a slap in the face, metaphorical but just as painful. He felt the blood drain from his own.

"After everything, Sera? After all our plans?" His voice was raw.

"Plans change, Ethan," she said, turning to Marcus. "Let's go, Marcus."

As they turned to leave, Ethan, in a daze of pain and fury, grabbed her arm. "Sera, don't do this."

She whirled around, her eyes blazing. "Let go of me, Ethan!"

And then it happened. Her hand arced through the air, the crack of it connecting with his cheek sharp and loud in the suddenly hushed ballroom.

"You're embarrassing me!" she hissed, her face contorted with an anger he'd never seen. She pulled her arm free, took Marcus' s offered arm, and swept away, leaving Ethan standing there, the imprint of her hand burning on his skin, his world crumbling around him.

The next morning, Senator Vance' s aide had called. Cold, impersonal. The Senator expressed his "disappointment" in Ethan's "public display" and "lack of decorum." The informal understanding of an engagement was, of course, rescinded. Ethan's prestigious new government architectural project in D.C. was also, regrettably, "no longer available."

Instead, a new assignment: a remote, challenging, and utterly undesirable infrastructure project in the mountains of West Virginia. Effective immediately.

It wasn't a reassignment; it was an exile.

He' d packed a single bag, left his award on his dusty apartment table, and driven away from D.C., the city of his dreams, now the city of his deepest humiliation. He hadn't looked back.