Chapter 2

The engagement party was a stage, and I was now an unwilling lead actor who suddenly knew everyone else' s lines. I sat at the head table, a glass of water in my hand instead of champagne, and I watched. I listened. Every smile, every toast, every whispered comment was a piece of the puzzle I was reassembling.

My eyes kept drifting to Chloe. She was the perfect hostess, charming and attentive, but I saw what I' d missed before. Her hand never strayed far from the small, beaded white purse that sat in her lap. She clutched it, not like a fashion accessory, but like a talisman. I knew what was inside. A small, intricately carved wooden charm, a gift from Derek, she had told me. An "ancient good luck charm." It was the focal point of the ritual, the conduit through which my fortune would be siphoned. The sight of her caressing the purse sent a cold wave of fury through me, but I kept my expression placid.

"To Chloe and Ethan!" Mr. Peterson roared, raising his glass. "May their union bring prosperity and success to us all!"

The crowd cheered. "To us all," he had said. Not "to them." A Freudian slip I' d completely ignored the first time around. Now, it was as loud as a gunshot. I saw Mrs. Peterson, a woman whose face was a testament to expensive cosmetic procedures, give her husband a knowing, triumphant look. I saw Chloe' s sister, Sarah, preen, already imagining the career boost this "union" would bring her.

Derek swaggered up to the microphone, claiming he wanted to say a few words. He was a performer, basking in the attention.

"I' ve known Chloe for a long time," he began, a wolfish grin on his face. "And I' ve never seen her happier. And Ethan... well, what can I say about Ethan?"

He paused, letting the silence hang in the air. The guests chuckled, anticipating a joke at my expense.

"He' s an artist," Derek continued, drawing the word out as if it were an insult. "He chases dreams. That' s an admirable thing. But dreams don' t pay the bills, do they? It' s a good thing he found Chloe. A very, very good thing. Now he' ll finally have some real security. To Ethan, for finally landing on his feet!"

The room erupted in laughter. It wasn't friendly ribbing, it was cruel, condescending mockery. In my past life, I had felt my face burn with shame. I had shrunk in my seat, utterly humiliated.

This time, I simply picked up my glass of water and took a slow, deliberate sip. I met Derek's gaze across the room and gave him a small, slow nod, as if to say, 'Thank you.' My complete lack of reaction seemed to bother him more than any angry outburst could have. The laughter died down, replaced by a few confused murmurs. I had refused to play my part.

The main event came after the dessert. Mr. Peterson tapped his glass for attention, a sheaf of papers in his hand.

"Just a little family business," he announced jovially. "A formality, really. With a marriage, especially when significant assets are involved on one side," he gestured vaguely to indicate his own family's wealth, "it's always wise to have things in order. A prenuptial agreement, just to keep everything clean and simple."

He slid the document across the table to me. I remembered this moment with sickening clarity. I had been so eager to please, so desperate for their approval, that I' d barely glanced at it before reaching for the pen Chloe offered.

This time, I picked it up and read it. Really read it.

It wasn't a prenuptial agreement. It was a financial trap, disguised in dense legalese. It gave the Peterson family corporation power of attorney over any and all of my future creative works, inventions, and business ventures. It stipulated that any income I generated would be managed by their financial advisors. It even had a clause that made me liable for pre-existing "family debts" I knew nothing about. It was a contract for indentured servitude.

"It looks a little more complicated than a standard pre-nup," I said, my voice neutral. I looked up at Mr. Peterson, whose smile had tightened just a fraction.

Chloe jumped in, her voice dripping with feigned concern. "Darling, it's just lawyer stuff. You know how they are. It' s to protect the family business. It protects you, too."

I remembered those exact words. I remembered how they had soothed my tiny, flickering doubts. A painful echo. She used to care about me this way, or so I thought.

My eyes flickered from her face to Derek, who was standing a few feet away, watching the scene intently. And then I saw it. Something I had never noticed before. The cufflink on his right sleeve wasn't just a simple silver knot. It was a small, intricately carved symbol. A stylized serpent eating its own tail.

My blood ran cold.

It was the exact same symbol carved into the wooden charm in Chloe' s purse.

The connection, once a suspicion, was now a certainty. This wasn't just Chloe's family being greedy. This was a conspiracy between them and Derek Stone. They were all in on it together. The ex-boyfriend and the fiancée, partners in my ruin.

I felt a suffocating wave of nausea. I needed to get out of there. I needed air.

I slowly placed the contract back on the table, next to the pen. I didn't sign it.

"You know," I said, pushing my chair back and standing up. "All this excitement... I feel a bit overwhelmed. I think I just need a minute of fresh air."

Chloe' s face clouded over. "Ethan, what' s wrong? We need to sign this."

"It's not going anywhere," I said with a disarming smile. "I'll be right back."

I turned and walked away from the table, not looking back. I could feel their eyes on me, Chloe's confused and annoyed, Mr. Peterson's hard and impatient, Derek's sharp and suspicious.

I didn't stop for fresh air. I walked straight through the grand foyer, past the confused-looking staff, and out the massive front doors. I didn't look back. I just walked out into the cool night, my mind racing.

The game had changed. They thought they were in control, that their plan was unfolding perfectly. But I had the one thing they couldn't account for: a script of the future. And I was about to start rewriting it.