Chapter 3

The next day, I drove out to Ethan' s ranch land. It was remote, exactly as I remembered. Red dirt, scrub brush, and a whole lot of empty sky. Perfect.

I feigned enthusiasm, playing the part of the devoted, helpful girlfriend.

"Oh, honey, this location is perfect! So private," I said, knowing the privacy was for his future atrocities, not his influencer fantasy.

The thought hit me like a physical blow, but I just smiled wider. "Let's mark out the excavation site."

I directed the crew, my family' s most trusted guys, to a spot I' d chosen from the geological surveys. It was solid bedrock, ideal for a foundation. It was also the hardest, most time-consuming spot to dig.

Ethan, meanwhile, was busy. He' d gotten his loan. Truck after truck started arriving, kicking up clouds of red dust.

He stood there, arms crossed, chest puffed out, as pallets were unloaded.

Freeze-dried food in military-grade buckets. Cases of MREs. Stack upon stack of bottled water, followed by two massive, 2,500-gallon water tanks.

Next came the medical supplies. Boxes of antibiotics, trauma kits, surgical tools, painkillers. Enough to stock a small clinic.

Then came the hardware. A massive diesel generator, drums of fuel, solar panels still in their boxes, and cases of ammunition for every caliber imaginable. Guns he'd been collecting for years were brought out from his storage unit.

He walked me through the growing mountain of supplies, bragging.

"See, babe? We'll be able to host dozens of people. Teach them, feed them. Build a real community."

His thoughts were a sickening counterpoint.

He gestured to a pile of camping gear and luxury items. "And we've got to be comfortable, right? Can't be a top-tier influencer retreat without some comforts."

I nodded, my face a mask of admiration. "You've thought of everything, Ethan."

With a clipboard in hand, I walked through the stacks, meticulously cataloging every single item. I wasn't just taking inventory for the build.

I was making a list of my new possessions.

Each box he unloaded, each pallet he paid for, was a nail in his own coffin. And I was the one handing him the hammer.