Chapter 4

I watched her sleep that night. She looked peaceful, innocent, the lines of stress and ambition erased from her face. It was the face I had fallen in love with, the face I had woken up to for a decade. I remembered lazy Sunday mornings, whispered secrets in the dark, the way she used to trace the lines on my palm and tell me my future was with her. The memories were ghosts, taunting me with what I had lost, with what had never really been real. A profound, overwhelming sadness washed over me. This was it. The point of no return. The love was dead, and its corpse was lying in my bed.

I didn't sleep. The next morning, I walked into the empty shell of my studio looking like a ghost myself. My eyes were bloodshot, my face pale. My lead designer, the only person who hadn't quit yet, looked at me with pity.

"Ethan, you look terrible," she said. "There's someone here to see you. He's been waiting."

I expected another lawyer, another bill collector. Instead, a man in a perfectly tailored suit stood up from the worn-out sofa in our lobby. He was tall, with sharp features and an air of quiet authority.

"Ethan Miller?" he said, his voice a low baritone. "My name is Julian Croft."

The name was familiar. He was a major player in the tech investment world, a rival to Liam Hayes, but known for his integrity and sharp business acumen. He was everything Liam pretended to be.

"I know about what OmniCorp is doing to you," Julian said, getting straight to the point. "This isn't just about your game, Miller. Hayes is trying to force a hostile takeover of my company. He's using shell corporations and stolen IP to inflate his company's value before the shareholder meeting. Your game is just a pawn in a much bigger game."

He opened his briefcase and pushed a check across the table. It was for five million dollars.

"I want to fund you," Julian said. "Not just to save your studio, but to fight back. Help me expose Hayes, and I'll make sure you get everything you're owed and more." He paused, his gaze intense. "I also know about Chloe. Hayes has a weakness for other men's wives. It's a pattern. He uses them, gets what he wants, and then discards them. She's just another one."

The offer was a lifeline, but the information was a fresh stab of pain. That night, I confronted Chloe. The check from Julian Croft was on the coffee table between us.

"You need to drop the lawsuit," I said. "And you need to tell me everything."

She laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. "Or what? You'll use his money to fight me? You'll always be a small-time dreamer, Ethan."

"I have proof, Chloe," I said, my voice shaking with rage. "The cufflinks. The trip to the Maldives. I know everything."

The color drained from her face. The mask of composure finally cracked. For a second, I saw the girl I used to know, scared and vulnerable.

"Ethan, please," she whispered, her voice breaking. She reached for me, her hands cold against my skin. "It's not what you think. I can fix this. We can fix this."

The fight went out of me. Exhausted, heartbroken, and clinging to a foolish shred of hope, I let her pull me into an embrace. It was a lie, a temporary truce in a war I had already lost, but for that one night, I let myself pretend it was real.