Chapter 3

"You' re bluffing," Chloe called after me as I walked out of the hospital room.

Her voice was laced with a mixture of anger and disbelief.

"You think you can just walk away? You signed a contract! You' re just trying to get more money out of me, aren' t you? That' s all you' ve ever wanted!"

I didn' t stop. I didn' t turn around. I just kept walking down the long, sterile hallway, the sound of her shouting fading behind me. For the first time, her words had no power over me. They were just noise.

I made it to the lobby and was about to push through the main doors when a voice stopped me.

"Leaving so soon?"

I turned. It was Jake Stone. He was leaning against a wall, a smug, triumphant look on his face. He must have been waiting for me.

"Chloe is quite upset," he said, pushing himself off the wall and strolling towards me. "You' ve really made a mess of things, Ethan."

I just stared at him, my hands clenching into fists at my sides. He was the reason for all of this. He was the one who had whispered poison in Chloe' s ear, who had fanned the flames of her hatred for me.

"Don' t look at me like that," he chuckled. "You should be thanking me."

"Thanking you?" My voice was a low growl.

"Of course," he said, his smile widening. "I' m the one who set you free. You see, your dear old mother... she was holding you back."

My blood ran cold.

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh, you didn' t know?" he feigned surprise. "I paid her a little visit at the hospital a few days ago. We had a nice chat. I told her all about your life here. The five dollars a day, the kneeling, Chloe' s... many friends. I painted a very vivid picture."

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

"I told her that you were trapped. That you would never leave Chloe as long as she was alive, as long as you needed the Davis family' s money for her medical bills. I explained to her that the only way for her beloved son to be free was if she... disappeared."

The world tilted. The air was sucked from my lungs. The letter my mother wrote... it was true. This monster, this smiling, conniving bastard, had driven my mother to suicide.

"She was a smart woman," Jake continued, clearly enjoying the look of horror on my face. "She understood. She did what she had to do. For you. So, you see? I' m your savior."

Something inside me snapped.

The years of repressed anger, of swallowed pride, of silent suffering, erupted in a single, violent surge. I didn' t think. I just acted.

I lunged at him, my hands closing around his throat. I slammed him back against the wall, the impact echoing in the quiet lobby. His smug smile vanished, replaced by a look of shocked fear. His hands scrabbled at mine, his eyes bulging.

"You... you killed her," I snarled, my vision turning red. All I could see was his face, the face of the man who had murdered my mother as surely as if he had stopped her heart with his own hands.

"Ethan! Stop it!"

Chloe' s shriek cut through my rage. She had followed me down. She and two burly security guards, her personal bodyguards, were running towards us.

They pulled me off of him. Jake collapsed to the floor, gasping for air, clutching his bruised neck.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Chloe screamed at me, her face pale with fury. She rushed to Jake' s side, helping him up. "Are you okay, Jake? Oh my god, he tried to kill you!"

"He' s insane!" Jake rasped, pointing a trembling finger at me. "Completely insane!"

Chloe turned her wrath on me. Her eyes, which had held a flicker of concern just an hour ago, were now filled with pure, unadulterated hatred.

"You animal," she hissed. "You put your hands on him?"

She turned to the bodyguards. "Hold him."

They grabbed my arms, pinning me in place. I didn' t struggle. The rage had drained out of me, leaving behind a cold, desolate emptiness.

"You think you can just assault my guest and walk away?" Chloe said, her voice dangerously low. "You think you can threaten me with divorce and get away with it? You need to be taught a lesson. A real one this time."

She looked me up and down, a cruel smile playing on her lips. "I told you to apologize on your knees. Since you didn' t want to do it at the club, you can do it here. You' re going to kneel on the floor of this lobby until I tell you to get up. And these two men will make sure you don' t move a muscle."

She was going to make me kneel. In public. For hours. It was the ultimate humiliation.

But before the guards could force me to my knees, another voice cut through the tension.

"Chloe, that' s enough."

It was Mrs. Davis. She had just arrived, her face a storm cloud of disapproval.

"Mother? What are you doing here?" Chloe asked, startled.

"I came to check on Ethan," she said, her sharp eyes taking in the scene-me held by the guards, Jake nursing his neck, Chloe' s face twisted with rage. "And it seems I arrived just in time. Let him go."

"No!" Chloe defied her. "He attacked Jake! He has to be punished!"

"I said, let him go," Mrs. Davis repeated, her voice like steel.

The guards hesitated, looking from Chloe to her mother.

"Do as I say," Mrs. Davis commanded. They reluctantly released my arms.

Mrs. Davis walked over to me. Her expression was complicated-a mix of pity, guilt, and grim determination.

"Come with me, Ethan," she said softly.

She led me away, leaving a stunned Chloe and a fuming Jake behind. She didn' t take me to her car. She led me to a small, private waiting room.

She closed the door and turned to me. For a long moment, she just looked at me, her eyes filled with a sorrow I had never seen in her before.

"I am so sorry, Ethan," she whispered. "For all of this. I never imagined... I never wanted it to go this far."

She reached into her large, expensive handbag and pulled out a small, heavy box. It was made of dark, polished wood.

"This is for you," she said, her hands trembling as she held it out to me. "I picked them up this morning."

I took the box. It was heavier than it looked. I knew what it was before I even opened it.

With numb fingers, I lifted the lid.

Inside, nestled on a bed of black velvet, was a simple ceramic urn.

My mother' s ashes.

The sight of it broke through the cold emptiness that had enveloped me. A sob tore through my chest, raw and ragged. I collapsed into a chair, clutching the box to my chest, and finally, finally, I wept. I wept for my mother. I wept for the years I had lost. I wept for the man I used to be.

Mrs. Davis stood by the door, silent, giving me the space to grieve. When my sobs finally subsided into shuddering breaths, she spoke again, her voice quiet but firm.

"It' s time for you to go, Ethan. For good. I have a car waiting for you out back. It will take you anywhere you want to go. Don' t look back."

She was letting me go. She was breaking the contract.

"Chloe..." I started.

"I will handle Chloe," she said, a hard edge to her voice. "You just disappear. Start a new life. It' s what your mother would have wanted."

She placed a thick envelope on the table next to me. It was the million-dollar check.

"Take it," she said. "You' ve earned it."

I looked from the check to the urn in my hands. This money, this freedom... it was all bought with my mother' s life.

I picked up the urn, leaving the check on the table.

"I don' t want your money," I said.

And with my mother' s ashes held tight against my heart, I walked out the back door and didn' t look back.