Chapter 2

The first step was to sever the digital ties, to become a ghost in the machine. Ethan walked to a public library several blocks away, the anonymity of the crowd a comfort. He sat at a computer terminal and began the meticulous process of erasure. He liquidated his personal investment accounts, transferring the funds to an untraceable offshore account he' d set up years ago as a financial failsafe, a contingency he never thought he' d use.

He deleted his social media profiles, years of photos, comments, and connections vanishing with a series of clicks. He looked at a picture of him and Olivia on a beach in Bali, both of them smiling, the sun setting behind them. His finger hovered over the delete button for a moment, a final pang of what used to be love echoing in his chest. Then he pressed it. The picture disappeared.

He drafted his resignation letter to the architectural firm he co-founded, keeping it brief and professional, citing personal reasons. He scheduled it to be sent in two days. By then, he would be long gone.

When he finally returned to the apartment late that night, Olivia was waiting for him, her face a perfect mask of concern.

"Ethan, where have you been? I was so worried," she said, rushing to him and wrapping her arms around his neck. Her perfume, the one he' d bought her for their first anniversary, filled his senses. It smelled like deceit. "I called you a dozen times."

He looked at her, at the woman he had loved more than life itself, and felt nothing but a cold, empty space where his heart used to be. "My phone died, I was walking, just clearing my head."

She pulled back, her brow furrowed with feigned worry. "Is everything okay? You seem... different."

He forced a weak smile. "Just tired, long day." He couldn' t bring himself to mention the anniversary gift he had planned. The word felt like ash in his mouth.

Her concern seemed so real, so deep, that for a fleeting moment, he felt a wave of crushing sadness. He saw the woman he fell in love with, not the manipulator on the phone. His throat tightened, and he had to look away to keep his composure. He had to remember the phone call. He had to remember Alex.

As if on cue, her phone buzzed on the kitchen counter. She glanced at it, and a flicker of something-annoyance, maybe even panic-crossed her face before she smoothed it over.

"I have to take this," she said, her voice a little too bright. "It' s the hospital, it' s about Alex." She grabbed her purse, her movements quick and frantic. "He was in a minor car accident, I need to go check on him."

The confirmation was so swift, so blatant, it was almost comical. A minor accident. The same lie she would have told him about any of her clandestine meetings. The bitterness rose in his throat.

"I' ll come with you," Ethan said, his voice level.

"No!" she said, too quickly. "You stay here and rest, you look exhausted. It' s nothing serious, I' ll be back soon." She gave him a quick, meaningless kiss on the cheek and was out the door before he could say another word.

He waited for a full minute, then grabbed his keys and followed her. He kept a safe distance, his car a shadow behind hers as she sped through the city streets. She didn' t go to the nearest hospital. She drove across town to St. Jude' s Medical Center, the most exclusive and expensive private hospital in the city.

He parked a block away and walked to the entrance, slipping in behind a group of visitors. He found the information desk and asked for Alex Thorne' s room number. The nurse told him Alex was in the VIP wing on the top floor.

When he got off the elevator, he saw Olivia talking to a doctor, her voice sharp with authority.

"I want this entire floor cleared, I don' t want any press or visitors bothering him," she commanded. "My husband needs his rest."

Her husband. She said the words so easily, so possessively. The sound ricocheted in the sterile hallway, a public declaration of the truth he had only just discovered. His worst fears, confirmed in the cold, fluorescent light of a hospital corridor. He was the secret, Alex was the husband. He felt the floor tilt beneath his feet, the world dissolving into a blur of white walls and muffled sounds.