Chapter 2

Ethan knew Kyle' s envy of his "success" with Tiff in the first life was a bitter joke.

Kyle saw the Sinclair name, the parties, the illusion of power.

He never saw the bruises Ethan hid, the threats Tiff whispered, the way she' d systematically dismantled his life, isolating him, turning him into a possession.

Kyle, reborn, was chasing a fantasy, blinded by the same greed and entitlement that defined him.

Ethan almost pitied him. Almost.

But the memory of Tiff' s cruelty, and Kyle' s casual disdain for everyone but himself, hardened his resolve.

This time, Kyle would learn the true cost of being Tiff Sinclair' s husband.

The Millers had adopted Ethan for appearances.

He was the brilliant orphan, a testament to their supposed generosity.

In reality, he was a useful pawn, a quiet, intelligent boy who made their biological son, Kyle, look good by comparison, at least academically.

They provided for him, yes, but there was no warmth, no love. Only expectation and, when he disappointed, cold disapproval.

He was a tool, an asset to be managed.

His biological father, a decorated firefighter, died a hero. Ethan cherished that faint, proud memory.

The Millers, with their calculated kindness and emotional frost, were a stark contrast.

He remembered, years ago in his first life, wanting to pursue a specialized research grant.

It would have meant moving, focusing entirely on his work.

He' d presented his plan to Mr. Miller, hoping for support, perhaps even a sliver of pride.

Mr. Miller had listened, his face impassive.

Then he' d said, "Ethan, your place is here. With the family. Such ambitions are... unseemly. We have plans for you."

When Ethan had tried to argue, gently, respectfully, Kyle had overheard.

"Still trying to be something you' re not, charity case?" Kyle had sneered, shoving him against the wall. "Dad said no. Get it through your thick skull."

Mrs. Miller had simply sighed, "Don' t cause trouble, Ethan. Be grateful for what you have."

The grant opportunity passed. His spirit, then, had withered a little more.

This time, he would not be suppressed.

Kyle, even now, swaggered.

"So, it' s settled," Kyle said, grinning at Ethan, a conqueror. "I get the heiress. You get the... businesswoman." He said "businesswoman" like it was a consolation prize.

"Try not to bore her to death with your science stuff, Ethan."

Ethan met his gaze, a faint, knowing smile on his lips.

"I' ll try my best, Kyle."

He added, softly, so only Kyle could hear, "I hear Tiff enjoys a very... active social life. I hope you can keep up."

Kyle' s grin faltered for a second. He knew Tiff was a party girl, but he likely didn' t understand the depths of it.

The darkness that clung to her.

Ethan' s words were a tiny seed of doubt, a whisper of the chaos to come.

Kyle, annoyed by Ethan' s calm, barged into Ethan' s small room later that day without knocking, a habit from their youth.

Ethan was looking at old research papers, his mind already racing with plans.

"Just so we' re clear," Kyle said, leaning against the doorframe, "Tiff is mine. Olivia is yours. Don' t get any ideas about swapping back if you find Miss CEO too dull."

Ethan didn't look up. "The thought hadn't crossed my mind, Kyle."

"Good." Kyle pushed off the doorframe, strutting further into the room. He picked up a framed photo from Ethan's desk – a generic university award Ethan had barely remembered. "Still think you're so smart, huh? Being smart didn't get you Tiff in the end, did it? I did."

Ethan finally looked up, his eyes cold. "Enjoy her, Kyle. You deserve each other."

The veiled venom in Ethan' s tone was new. Kyle wasn't used to Ethan talking back, not like this.

Kyle frowned, then scoffed. "Whatever. Just stay out of my way."

He slammed the door on his way out.

Ethan listened to his retreating footsteps.

A small, satisfied smile touched Ethan's lips. The game had truly begun.