Chapter 1

The party pulsed around Ethan Miller, a frantic heartbeat of bass and manufactured laughter. For seven years, this had been his world, or rather, the world that orbited Chloe Adams. He had built it for her. He managed her social media, ghostwrote the witty captions that her millions of followers adored, and even composed the catchy jingles for her sponsored posts. He was the architect of her fame, a ghost in her glittering machine.

Chloe stood in the center of the living room, a champagne flute in one hand, her other hand intertwined with Brody Hayes' s. Brody, a chiseled star from some forgettable reality show, smiled a smile so polished it looked painful. They were a picture-perfect couple, designed for maximum engagement.

"And so," Chloe announced, her voice cutting through the noise, "Brody and I are so, so excited to tell you all... we' re engaged!"

The room erupted in cheers and the flash of a dozen phone cameras. Ethan felt a familiar pang, the dull ache of being on the outside of a moment he had helped create. He had spent the entire week editing the photos she would use for this announcement, a project she' d called "Operation Future."

Chloe' s eyes, sparkling with triumph, found his across the room. She beckoned him over with a flick of her fingers.

He navigated the crowd, his feet moving with a practiced obedience he was only just beginning to hate.

"Ethan, darling," she said, not bothering to introduce him to Brody. "Now that Brody' s here, and with the new brand deal... things are going to be different."

She took a delicate sip of champagne.

"It' s time for you to find your own spotlight, you know? Away from me."

The words were casual, a gentle nudge, but they landed like a physical blow. Seven years of his life, his talent, his unwavering loyalty, dismissed in a single, careless sentence. He was being fired. Not from a job, but from her life.

In the past, he would have smiled, nodded, and offered congratulations. He would have asked what she needed, how he could help with the transition, how he could continue to serve her from a greater distance. That was his role. He was Ethan, Chloe' s devoted childhood friend, her number one groupie. Everyone in their circle knew the dynamic. They saw him as a permanent, reliable fixture in her life, a satellite to her star.

Tonight, the crowd watched him, their faces a mixture of pity and expectation. They were waiting for the familiar nod, the quiet acceptance. They were waiting for the "groupie" to play his part.

The air grew thick with their silent pressure. He could feel their collective gaze urging him to smooth things over, to not make a scene, to not upset Chloe on her big night.

But something inside him, a thing he thought had died long ago, refused.

"No," Ethan said.

The word was quiet, but it sliced through the celebratory hum like a shard of glass.

The music suddenly seemed distant. The laughter died in people' s throats. Chloe' s smile faltered, a tiny crack in her perfect facade.

The atmosphere in the room froze. Conversations halted mid-sentence. Heads turned. Everyone stared, their eyes wide with disbelief. It was as if a piece of furniture had suddenly spoken.

Whispers started to ripple through the crowd.

"Did he just say no to her?"

"What' s wrong with him?"

"He' s never done that before."

Chloe' s eyes narrowed. The warmth vanished, replaced by a cold, sharp anger. "What did you just say?"

"I said no, Chloe."

Brody, ever the performer, stepped forward, placing a proprietary arm around Chloe' s waist. He gave Ethan a look that was meant to be charmingly condescending.

"Hey, pal," Brody said, his voice smooth and placating. "I think you' ve had a little too much to drink. Chloe' s just saying it' s a good thing, you getting out on your own. It' s tough love."

Chloe leaned into Brody, her expression hardening. "Ethan, don' t be a child. Just go get me another drink and we can forget this happened."

It was a command, the same tone she' d used a thousand times before. She expected him to fold, to revert to the old patterns. For a moment, Ethan' s mind did a quick, reflexive check. He felt for the familiar strings of guilt and obligation, the psychological tethers she had used to control him for years.

He found nothing.

The place where that devotion used to live was just a hollow space, cold and empty. The strings were cut.

A strange feeling washed over him, something light and unfamiliar. It was freedom. A small, genuine smile touched Ethan' s lips for the first time all night.

"I' m not getting you a drink, Chloe."

His tone wasn' t angry or defiant. It was calm, almost cheerful.

"And I' m not being a child," he continued, looking her directly in the eye. "I' m just done. Done writing your posts, done composing your jingles, done being your shadow. You said it yourself. It' s time I found my own spotlight."

Chloe' s face turned a shade of blotchy red. The mask of the gracious influencer was gone, revealing the furious toddler underneath.

"You can' t be 'done' !" she hissed, her voice a low, strangled whisper. "I' m not done with you!"

She took a step back, her mind clearly racing for a way to regain control. Her eyes darted around the room, settling on a familiar tactic.

"Fine," she announced, her voice loud and theatrical again. "If you' re going to be like this, then I' m leaving. I' m going to go stay with Brody. And don' t you dare call me."

It was an old threat, one that had always worked. The fear of her absence, of her disapproval, had always been enough to bring him to heel.

She waited, her arms crossed, expecting him to panic, to beg her to stay.

Instead, Ethan felt a wave of relief. He could go home, lock the door, and sleep for twelve hours straight. Maybe he' d order a pizza. A whole one, just for himself.

Chloe watched his face, searching for the usual panic. She found none. Her own panic began to build, a storm gathering behind her eyes. She was losing control, and she didn' t know why.

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