Chapter 2

The world was a blur of muted colors and muffled sounds, but the images on the screen were sharp and loud.

TMZ. Entertainment Tonight. Forbes.

They all had the same story.

"Tech Mogul David Stone and Wellness Guru Victoria Chase Celebrate 'Aura' Launch on Extravagant Yacht Party!"

There were photos. David, champagne flute in his hand, arm wrapped tightly around Victoria's waist. She was laughing, her head thrown back, diamonds glittering at her throat. They were an island of brilliant, shining success in the middle of the San Francisco Bay.

The party was happening right now. While my son' s body was lying in a cold, sterile morgue two hours away.

The contrast was so obscene, so violent, it jolted me out of my shock and into a cold, clear state of rage.

I found my phone, my fingers steady. I didn't call the hospital. I didn't call a lawyer. I called David.

He answered on the second ring, the sound of music and laughter loud in the background.

"Sarah? What is it? I'm in the middle of something huge here."

My voice was quiet, but it cut through the noise.

"Ethan is dead."

The line went silent. The party music seemed to dim. I could hear his breath.

"What did you say?"

"Our son, Ethan, is dead. The institute called. He died. While you were popping champagne with your mistress."

I didn't wait for his response.

"This is not just me leaving you, David. This is me erasing you. As of this moment, you are no longer my husband. The Stone family is no longer my family. You have no son. You have nothing. You lost it all today. I hope your brand was worth it."

I hung up.

My phone rang again almost immediately. It wasn't David. It was an unfamiliar number. I let it go to voicemail. A minute later, a text appeared.

`Sarah, this is Arthur Stone. Please, pick up the phone. I am so, so sorry.`

Arthur. David's father. The patriarch who had long ago retired from the family business, leaving it in David's far more ruthless hands. I hadn't spoken to him in years. I ignored the text.

But then my phone buzzed with a news alert. It was a link to a live society blog covering the yacht party. I clicked it.

A paragraph jumped out at me.

"The chemistry is undeniable! An insider tells us David Stone is planning a surprise proposal to Victoria Chase tonight. 'He sees her as his true partner in life and business,' our source gushes. 'He says she completes him.' What a romantic end to a perfect launch day!"

The words made me want to vomit. Romantic.

My phone rang again. It was Arthur. This time, I answered.

His voice was old and cracked with emotion.

"Sarah... my dear girl. I just heard. I... there are no words. That monster... my own son... what has he done?"

"He's done exactly what you raised him to do, Arthur," I said, my voice empty of heat. "Win at all costs."

"No," he whispered. "Not like this. Never like this. I tried to warn him. I tried to tell him about our family, about the balance... He wouldn't listen. Sarah, where is he? I've been calling his phone, he's not picking up."

"He's on a yacht," I said flatly. "Celebrating. With Victoria."

There was a long, heavy silence on the other end of the line. I could hear the old man's ragged breathing.

"I'm going down there," he said finally, his voice now steel. "I'm going to find him."

He hung up before I could reply. I sat in the silent house, the house that was once filled with my son's laughter and the smell of his paints. Now, it was just a tomb. And a storm was about to break over the family that had built it.