Chapter 2

The lawyer, a man with a professionally neutral face, cleared his throat. He looked from the signed papers to me, then back to a stunned Olivia.

"Well, then," he said, gathering the documents. "With both signatures, this is legally binding. The divorce will be finalized within the week. I will have copies sent to both of your offices."

I gave him a curt nod. I didn't look at Olivia again. There was no point. The character of Liam Stone may have owed her a world of apologies, but I, Ethan Miller, owed her nothing but a clean break. Staying would only entangle me further in a narrative I refused to be a part of.

I turned and walked towards the door without a backward glance. My steps were steady and quick.

[He' s really leaving? Just like that?]

[No regret? No dramatic "you'll be sorry" speech?]

[This is so wrong! He' s supposed to realize he loves her the moment she walks away! Where' s the angst? Where' s the crematorium?!]

The comments were a chorus of frustration in my head. They sounded like angry customers who had been promised a five-course meal and were instead handed a takeout menu and shown the door.

I pushed the heavy glass door open and stepped out into the hallway. The air outside the conference room felt different, lighter. A weight I hadn't even realized was there lifted from my shoulders. It was the weight of a predetermined fate, of a story already written.

And I had just torn out the first page.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out. The screen showed a name: Sarah Jenkins. The "white moonlight." The source of so much of the original Liam Stone's misery and cruelty. According to his memories, she would call around this time, expecting to hear the "good news" that he had tormented Olivia again.

I stared at the name for a second. The script expected me to answer, to have a tender conversation with her, solidifying my image as a heartless fool.

My thumb moved. I didn't just decline the call. I opened the contact, blocked the number, and then deleted it entirely.

A new comment popped into view, this one practically screaming.

[HE BLOCKED THE WHITE MOONLIGHT?! HE DELETED SARAH?!]

[What in the actual hell is happening? Did the author get replaced? Is this a fanfiction?]

I almost smiled.

My assistant, a young man named Tom who looked perpetually nervous in Liam Stone' s memories, was waiting for me down the hall. He scurried over.

"Mr. Stone, your car is ready. And... Ms. Jenkins called your personal line, she said it was urgent."

"I'm no longer taking her calls," I said, my tone flat and final. "Or calls from anyone named Jenkins. Block her number from all company lines. If she shows up at the office, have security escort her out. Make a note of it. This is a permanent directive."

Tom' s eyes widened. "Sir? But Ms. Jenkins is..."

"She is no one," I cut him off. "Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir. Perfectly clear." He swallowed hard, nodding quickly.

We walked towards the elevator. The sense of liberation was growing, a clean, exhilarating feeling. I wasn't just escaping a bad romance; I was reclaiming my own mind, my own agency.

"Cancel my appointments for the rest of the day," I told Tom as the elevator doors slid shut. "Reschedule the quarterly review for first thing tomorrow morning. I want all department heads there. No exceptions. And get me the financials for the last two quarters. I want to see everything, especially the marketing department's discretionary spending."

"Tomorrow morning, sir?" Tom stammered. "That's very short notice."

"Then they'd better get to work," I said. "This company has been coasting. That ends now."

The old Ethan Miller had built a billion-dollar tech empire from nothing. The character of Liam Stone had inherited a company and let it stagnate while he played out his pathetic love drama. That was about to change. If I was stuck in this body, I was going to use it to do what I do best: build.

[He' s... focusing on work?]

[The CEO who ignores his company to chase women is suddenly a workaholic?]

[I don't understand this story anymore. What am I even watching?]

Exactly. You're not watching anything. I'm living. And my life is not your entertainment.