Chapter 2

Days blurred. I walked through the French Quarter, a ghost.

A crowd gathered around a TV in a shop window. A local festival broadcast.

My family.

Eleanor, preening, showing off a new diamond necklace, "ocean-themed," she said.

"A gift for my future grandchild."

Izzy stood beside her, holding a man' s hand. My hand, on screen.

Tears streamed down her face for the cameras.

"Ethan never knew true family warmth," she sobbed. "I' m finally giving him a real home."

The screen flashed: "New Orleans' Most Inspiring Family."

Bile rose in my throat.

I found Izzy at our-my-house.

"What was that?" I asked, my voice flat.

Her phone rang before she could answer. She fumbled with it.

I heard voices, her friends, giggling.

"God, Izzy, he' s still clueless, isn't he?"

"Did you tell him how long you and Marcus have been together?"

"Or how you used poor Ethan's firm to get funding for Marcus' s little projects?"

Izzy' s face went pale. Caught.

She tried to recover. "Ethan, are you feeling okay? You look unwell."

Gaslighting me.

Then, a voice from her phone, muffled but clear. Marcus.

"Baby, you coming back to bed?"

Later, Eleanor and Izzy returned, all fake smiles and concern.

"Ethan, darling, we heard about the bid. So dreadful. We can reschedule, find new backers."

I didn' t say anything. I just handed Izzy the papers.

"Asset separation," I said.

She barely glanced at them, signed with a flourish.

"What' s mine is yours, darling, you know that."

A business emergency, they said. Richard Thorne had "gifted" them a new office building nearby.

They had to go.

They left their wedding corsages on the hall table.

White roses. For their wedding night with Richard and Marcus.

The papers she signed. They separated my personal architectural earnings. My talent. My future.

It was no longer tied to her, or them.