Chapter 3

Liam Thorne moved in two days later. He didn't move into a guest room; he moved into the master suite with Olivia, bringing his expensive suits and self-satisfied smile with him. Ethan was relegated to a spare room at the end of the hall, a space that felt more like a prison cell than a part of his own home.

The first thing Liam did was redecorate. He walked through the living room, a space Ethan had carefully designed to be warm and inviting, and made a dismissive gesture. "This is all a bit... dated, isn't it, Liv? Too much wood. Too cozy. We need something more modern, more us."

Olivia, who had once praised Ethan' s taste, readily agreed. "You're right. Let's change it. Whatever you want."

The next day, workers arrived. Ethan' s favorite armchair, the one he'd curl up in to read to the kids when they were younger, was hauled out to the curb. The custom-built bookshelves he had installed were torn down. Chloe and Noah were thrilled.

"Wow, Uncle Liam, this is so cool!" Chloe exclaimed as a massive, minimalist black leather sofa was brought in. "Daddy' s old furniture was so boring."

"Yeah," Noah chimed in, kicking at a box of books Ethan had curated over the years. "This stuff is for old people."

Ethan stood in the doorway, watching as pieces of his life were discarded like trash. He remembered picking out that armchair with Olivia on their first anniversary. He remembered spending a whole weekend sanding and staining the wood for those shelves. He remembered reading "Goodnight Moon" to Chloe in that very chair, her small head resting on his chest. Now, it was all just garbage to be thrown away.

The house changed, and so did the dynamics within it. At the dinner table, Liam sat at the head, where Ethan used to sit. He would tell jokes, and Olivia would laugh, a bright, genuine laugh that Ethan hadn't heard directed at him in years. The children would hang on Liam' s every word, fighting for his attention.

Ethan would sit at the far end of the table, a ghost at his own feast. If he spoke, he was often ignored or cut off. He became a transparent man.

The double standards were glaring. One evening, Liam accidentally burned the steak he was grilling. He laughed it off, calling it "cajun style," and Olivia and the children ate the charred meat without a word of complaint, praising his effort. Ethan recalled a time a few months ago when he had slightly overcooked the salmon, and Chloe had refused to eat, pushing her plate away and declaring it "disgusting." Olivia had sided with her, telling Ethan he needed to be more careful.

He saw the way the housekeepers now deferred to Liam, asking for his instructions, ignoring Ethan completely. He overheard two of them whispering in the hallway.

"Mr. Thorne is really taking over, isn't he?" one said.

"It was only a matter of time," the other replied. "You can see how much happier Mrs. Hayes is. Poor Mr. Miller. He doesn't even seem to be fighting it."

He wasn' t fighting it. He was letting it happen. Every slight, every act of dismissal, was another reason solidifying his decision. He was just waiting for the final push.