Chapter 3

Chloe stalked over to the bar cart, her movements filled with a terrifying, deliberate calm. She picked up an open bottle of sticky red liqueur. The other guests watched, their faces a mix of morbid curiosity and drunken excitement. This was better than reality TV.

She walked back to Ethan, a cruel smile playing on her lips. Without a word, she upended the bottle over his head.

The thick, syrupy liquid ran down his hair, into his eyes, and down his shirt. It was cold and sticky, gluing his eyelids shut for a moment. He flinched, the sweet, cloying smell filling his nostrils.

The room exploded with laughter and jeers.

"Yeah, Chloe!"

"Get him!"

Phones were up again, recording his humiliation. The bright flashes were disorienting, even through the red haze of the liqueur dripping over his face. This moment, his complete degradation, would be saved, shared, and replayed. It would become a permanent part of his history.

A raw, helpless anger burned in his chest. Where were his parents? They were on a second honeymoon in Europe, blissfully unaware that the girl they treated like a daughter was currently torturing their son in their own home.

Brody, ever the fake moderator, put a hand on Chloe' s arm. "Okay, babe, I think he' s had enough," he said, his voice a stage whisper loud enough for everyone to hear. He wasn' t trying to stop her; he was just performing his role as the reasonable boyfriend.

He moved closer to Chloe, their bodies pressed together. He looked past her, his eyes locking onto Ethan' s. He had the smug look of a victor.

"Just apologize to her, man," Brody said, his voice low and intimate. "Just say you' re sorry and we can all go home."

As Brody spoke, a glint of silver at his throat caught Ethan' s eye. It was a simple chain with a small, hand-carved wooden bird.

Ethan' s breath caught in his throat.

It was his mother' s necklace.

The anger and humiliation vanished, replaced by a cold, sharp shock that was somehow worse. He stared at the necklace, his mind reeling.

"Give it back," Ethan said, his voice a raw whisper. The guys holding him laughed, thinking it was part of the joke.

"What was that, princess?" one of them sneered.

Ethan ignored them. His eyes were fixed on the necklace around Brody' s neck. "That necklace," he said, his voice gaining strength. "Give it back. Now."

That necklace wasn' t just a piece of jewelry. His mother had been a folk artist. She had carved that little bird for him on his tenth birthday, the year she was diagnosed. She told him it was a reminder to always let his own song fly free. After she passed away, it was the one thing he kept of hers, a sacred link to her memory. It had been in a velvet box in his desk drawer.

Brody touched the bird pendant, a look of theatrical confusion on his face. "This old thing? Chloe gave it to me. Said it was just some trinket she found lying around. A good luck charm."

Ethan' s gaze snapped to Chloe. Her eyes flickered for a fraction of a second, a tiny admission of guilt, before her face hardened back into a mask of defiance.

"So what if I did?" she snapped, her voice harsh and defensive. "It' s a cheap piece of wood. Stop making a scene over nothing. You' re embarrassing yourself."

The words hit Ethan harder than the slap. Cheap piece of wood. Nothing. She had taken the most precious thing he owned, the last tangible piece of his mother, and given it away to her flavor-of-the-month boyfriend like it was a party favor.

The pain was so sharp and sudden it felt like a physical wound. He felt his composure, his control, his very sanity, begin to crumble.

With a surge of adrenaline-fueled strength, he wrenched one arm free from the man holding him. He stumbled forward, his legs unsteady.

He looked directly at Chloe, the sticky liqueur dripping from his chin like tears. "Do you have a conscience?" he choked out, the words tearing from his throat. "Do you have any idea what that is? That was my mother' s. It was a gift from my dead mother!"

He took another ragged breath, his voice rising with every ounce of his pain and betrayal. "My parents took you in! They gave you a home when you had nothing! They loved you! And this is how you repay them? By stealing from their son? Give it back!"

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