Chapter 3

A few days later, Chloe organized a high-profile charity gala. It was in Leo' s "honor," a grand event to raise funds for his "rare condition." The city' s elite would be there.

The morning of the gala, a box arrived from a high-end designer. Inside was a ridiculously expensive tuxedo.

Chloe had sent it. A note was attached. "Wear this tonight. We need to look like a power couple. It's important for my career."

I looked at the tux, a perfect symbol of the life she wanted, the man she wanted me to be. A silent, wealthy accessory.

I left it in the box.

That evening, I walked into the glittering ballroom of a five-star hotel. The air was buzzing with conversations about art, money, and philanthropy. Chloe, in a stunning red gown, was the center of attention.

She saw me and her face tightened with fury.

I wasn't wearing the designer tux. I was wearing a simple, well-worn leather jacket. It was a gift from her, years ago, back when we were just two kids in college who thought love was enough.

She stormed over to me, her eyes flashing. "What the hell are you wearing? Are you trying to ruin my life?"

"It's just a jacket, Chloe."

"It's a statement!" she seethed. "You're embarrassing me in front of everyone. There are gallery owners here, patrons! You're ruining my career!"

Her voice was rising, attracting stares. Leo, looking pale and frail in a velvet suit, rushed to her side.

"Ethan, how could you be so insensitive?" he said, his voice trembling for effect. "Tonight is about me, about raising awareness. And you show up like this? You have no heart."

The argument had drawn a small crowd. People were whispering, looking at me with disdain. The poor, clueless boyfriend ruining his brilliant girlfriend's big night.

"I have no heart?" I repeated, my voice calm.

Just then, a man with a commanding presence approached us. He was impeccably dressed, with sharp eyes that missed nothing.

It was Mr. Sterling. Sophia' s father. A legend on Wall Street and a major sponsor of the event.

He clapped me on the shoulder, a warm, familiar gesture.

"Ethan, my boy!" he boomed, his voice carrying across the silent onlookers. "I was wondering where you were hiding. Your mother told me you were finally coming to your senses. It's been too long."

He looked me up and down. "Still rocking that old jacket, I see. Sophia will be happy to see you."

He called me "son."

The crowd gasped. Chloe and Leo stared, their faces a mask of pure shock. The whispers changed tone, from pity to awe.

Ethan. As in, Ethan Vanderbilt.

Chloe's entire demeanor shifted in an instant. The anger vanished, replaced by a desperate, cloying sweetness. "Ethan, darling," she said, trying to pull me aside. "We need to talk. I'm so sorry, I was just stressed."

I pulled my arm away from her touch.

"No, we don't," I said, my voice clear and cold for everyone to hear. "We're done."

I reached into my jacket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. It was a bank statement.

I handed it to her.

"This is a detailed list of every dollar I've spent on you and your 'art' for the past seven years," I said. "Three hundred and seventy-four thousand dollars, to be exact. Consider the debt paid. We're even."

I publicly ended our engagement right there.

The shock was too much for Leo. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he crumpled to the floor in a dramatic faint.

"Leo!" Chloe shrieked, dropping the bank statement to rush to his side.

A "cardiac episode." How convenient.

Mr. Sterling just raised an eyebrow. "Well," he said with a wry smile. "That's one way to make an exit. And an entrance." He put his arm around my shoulders. "Come on, son. Let's get you a real drink. We have a wedding to plan."