Chapter 3

The next two weeks were a masterclass in deception. I played the part of the beaten, melancholic husband they had grown accustomed to. I was quiet at breakfast, I nodded when Sophia spoke, I even managed a weak smile when Lily talked about her plans for college.

On the inside, I was a coiled spring.

Every night, I finalized my plans. The divorce papers were drawn up. My assets were being quietly moved and protected. Olivia had responded with an enthusiastic "Yes!", and a job contract was waiting in my inbox. My escape was set. I just needed the right moment to detonate the bomb I had built.

Sophia handed it to me on a silver platter.

"Ethan, honey," she said one evening, her voice dripping with fake concern. She placed a hand on my arm, and I had to fight the urge to recoil.

"Hmm?" I grunted, not looking up from my book.

"Daniel is receiving a major award from the Architect's Guild tomorrow night. For the firm's new city library design."

My design. A project I had poured my heart into before they stole it from me.

"He's giving a speech," she continued, "and he wants us to be there. All of us. As a family. To show everyone that we're united, that we've moved past all that... ugliness."

The audacity was breathtaking. They wanted to parade me around as their tamed pet, a symbol of their complete victory.

It was perfect.

"Okay," I said, my voice flat. "We'll go."

She looked surprised by my easy agreement. "Really? Oh, Ethan, that's wonderful! It will mean so much to Daniel."

"And to you," I added, finally looking at her. My eyes were empty, and for a second, I saw a flicker of unease on her face before she covered it with a brilliant smile.

The next evening, I stood in front of the mirror, adjusting my tie. For the first time in five years, I wore one of my old suits. It hung a little loosely on my frame, but it felt like armor.

In my inside pocket, I had an envelope. It contained the divorce papers my lawyer had couriered over that morning. My signature was already on them.

The awards ceremony was held in a grand ballroom, filled with the city's elite. Crystal chandeliers glittered overhead. I saw faces that used to be my friends, my colleagues. They averted their eyes when they saw me, whispering behind their hands. The "pervert architect" had dared to show his face.

Sophia, on my arm, was radiant in a red dress. Lily walked beside us, a perfect picture of a proud daughter. And there was Daniel, at the center of it all, shaking hands, accepting congratulations, looking every bit the conquering hero. He looked healthy. Vibrant. My kidney was serving him well.

He walked over to us, a wide smile on his face. He clapped me on the shoulder, a gesture of false camaraderie. "Ethan! I'm so glad you could make it. It means the world to me."

Sophia beamed, leaning in to give Daniel a quick, proprietary kiss on the cheek. They looked like the happy couple. I was the awkward, necessary appendage.

"Of course," I said, my voice calm. "Wouldn't miss it."

During a lull in the cocktail hour, while Daniel was schmoozing with the mayor, I turned to Sophia.

"I have something for you," I said quietly.

She looked at me, a flicker of curiosity in her eyes. "A surprise? Ethan, you shouldn't have."

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the envelope. I didn't hand it to her. I simply held it in front of her.

Her smile faltered as she read the legal firm's letterhead on the corner.

"What is this?" she whispered, her voice tight.

"It's a divorce petition," I said, my voice barely audible over the din of the party. "I've already signed it. Everything is to be divided equally, as per the law. Your copy will be officially served tomorrow morning. This is just a courtesy."

Her face went pale, the color draining away until her red lipstick looked like a gash. She stared at me, her eyes wide with disbelief and a rising panic.

"You're joking," she hissed. "This is a sick joke."

"Was Lily's kidney failure a joke?" I asked, my voice still level. "Was your kidnapping a joke?"

Her jaw dropped. Utter shock registered on her face, followed by pure, unadulterated fear. She knew. She knew that I knew.

Before she could respond, Daniel returned, his arm sliding possessively around her waist. "What are you two whispering about?" he asked, his tone light and mocking. He looked at me. "Still moping in the corner, Ethan? Some things never change."

I ignored him, my eyes locked on Sophia. I gave her a small, cold smile and tucked the envelope back into my pocket. "We can discuss the details later."

The time for the main event arrived. We were seated at the head table. Daniel went to the podium to thunderous applause. He spoke eloquently about vision, about legacy, about building a better future for the city. He was accepting an award for my work, my vision.

Then, he looked directly at me.

"I also want to thank my family," he said, his voice resonating through the hall. "My wonderful partner, Sophia, and my lovely niece, Lily. And, of course, my step-brother, Ethan." He paused for dramatic effect. "Many of you remember the difficult time we went through five years ago. A time of great confusion and pain for our family. Ethan has struggled, but we have stood by him."

My stomach tightened. I knew what was coming.

"To remind us all how far we've come," Daniel said, his lips curling into a smug smile, "and to finally put the past behind us, I want to share something."

The large screens on either side of the stage, which had been showing the firm's logo, flickered to life.

And there it was.

Me. Five years younger, my face a grotesque mask of clown makeup. Wearing that cheap satin dress. My voice, high and pathetic, echoed through the ballroom's sound system.

The room fell silent. Then, titters of laughter. Then, open, cruel mockery.

I was being humiliated all over again, in front of the entire professional world I once belonged to. This was their final, triumphant spike in my coffin.

The camera crews from the local news stations, there to cover the awards, swarmed our table. Microphones were thrust in my face. Flashes popped, blinding me.

"Mr. Miller, is this your idea of a comeback?"

"What do you have to say about this video?"

"Are you still mentally unstable, Mr. Miller?"

Someone shoved a camera so close it hit my forehead. I stumbled back, my chair scraping against the floor. I felt hands grabbing at my suit, pulling me. The noise was a deafening roar. My carefully constructed composure was cracking.

Suddenly, Sophia was there, pushing her way through the media scrum.

"Leave him alone!" she shrieked, her face a mask of furious righteousness. She wrapped her arms around me, shielding me from the cameras. "Can't you see he's having an episode? He's not well! Get away from him!"

She was playing the loving, protective wife. It was a brilliant performance, designed to make me look weak and pathetic, and her like a saint.

Daniel rushed over, his face etched with fake concern. "I'm so sorry, Ethan," he said, loud enough for the microphones to pick up. "I thought... I thought we could all laugh about it now. I thought you were stronger. I made a terrible mistake."

He was apologizing while twisting the knife.

They guided me out of the ballroom, a phalanx of fake concern, as the crowd watched, their faces a mixture of pity and disgust.

They thought they had broken me again. They had no idea they had just walked right into my trap.