Chapter 3

Ethan stood in front of the closet in the guest room, a space that was technically his but felt as foreign as a hotel. He pushed past rows of expensive suits Olivia had bought for him, suits that felt like costumes. He chose a simple black sweater and dark jeans. He wasn't going to play their game tonight. He wasn't a prop to make Liam look better.

The Reed mansion was ablaze with light, music spilling out onto the manicured lawns. Inside, it was a sea of champagne glasses and fake smiles. Ethan felt a familiar wave of invisibility wash over him. No one greeted him. No one met his eye.

His gaze found them instantly. Olivia and Liam. They stood near the grand fireplace, a perfect picture of power and elegance. She wore a stunning emerald green dress that complemented Liam's tie.

He saw Liam lean in and whisper something in her ear, and her laughter was bright and genuine, a sound he had only ever read about in his own diary.

Mr. and Mrs. Reed were by their side, beaming with pride. Mrs. Reed adjusted Liam's tie, a small, maternal gesture she had never once offered Ethan. Mr. Reed clapped Liam on the shoulder, his face glowing. "My boy," he said, loud enough for everyone to hear.

The music died down, and Mr. Reed tapped a glass for attention. "Friends, family," he began, his arm sweeping out to encompass the room before it settled firmly on Liam's shoulder. "Tonight is a proud night. Not only is it my birthday, but it's the night I formally announce the future of Reed Industries."

He paused for dramatic effect. "I'm handing over the reins of our most exciting new venture, the artificial intelligence division, to my son, Liam."

Applause erupted.

"And to mark this occasion," Mr. Reed continued, holding up a small, velvet box. "I'm giving him something I've saved for a true successor. The Patek Philippe watch my own father gave me."

He opened the box and fastened the exquisite watch onto Liam's wrist. It was more than a gift, it was a coronation. Anointing the true son, the worthy heir.

The whispers started around Ethan, insidious and loud.

"Poor Ethan. He doesn't even look surprised anymore."

"Did you hear? He tried to kill himself again last week. So pathetic."

"Honestly, at this point, it's just sad. Why do they even keep him around?"

"It's for appearances. But look at him. He's a ghost at his own family's party."

He heard every word. He felt the pity and the scorn land on him. In the past, according to his journal, this would have been the moment of crushing despair. A pain so profound it would make him physically sick.

But tonight, he felt nothing.

He touched his chest, right over his heart. It was calm. Steady. The words were just noise. The scene in front of him was just a tableau, a play acted by strangers. He was an audience member, watching the final act from a great distance.

He realized with a startling clarity that the part of him that cared, the part that yearned for their approval, was truly gone. The amnesia hadn't just taken his memories, it had severed the emotional chains that had bound him for a lifetime. He was free.