Chapter 2 2

My phone buzzed almost immediately.

A reply from Liam Sterling.

"Sarah. Your timing is impeccable. Yes, I'm in the city. I am very interested."

His words were direct, decisive.

I took a deep breath, the air in the hospital room still feeling thick with Ethan's deceit.

"I'm available immediately," I typed back. "I can walk you through the entire project architecture, including the client-side resources that only I control."

There was a pause before his next message.

"Understood. That's a bold move, Sarah. And a compelling one. My office, 10 a.m. tomorrow. My assistant will clear my schedule. Be sure."

A shiver went down my spine. Not of fear, but of... anticipation.

"I'm sure," I typed. "I've never been more sure of anything."

My escape was planned. I just had to survive one more night.

Ethan returned to the hospital room later that afternoon, looking pleased with himself.

He was humming.

"Get dressed, sunshine," he said, kissing the top of my head. I didn't lean into it. "Big night tonight. We're going to the annual Tech Achievement Gala. To celebrate."

"I'm not well, Ethan. The doctor said I need to rest."

"Nonsense." He beamed. "The doctor also said you're fine to be discharged. This is important. We need to be seen. It's a huge night for us."

He was practically vibrating with excitement.

"Oh?" I kept my face blank.

"Just you wait," he said, winking. "It's going to be a night you'll never forget."

He had no idea how right he was.

That evening, at the gala, the air crackled with flashbulbs and fake smiles.

Ethan, preening in his custom tux, held my hand tightly. Too tightly.

I felt like a prop. A well-dressed accessory.

He made the rounds, pulling me from one conversation to another, showing me off.

"Smile, baby," he hissed under his breath when my expression faltered. "Everyone's watching."

Inside the opulent ballroom, after the main course, Ethan dragged me onto the stage during a lull.

The spotlight found us. My heart hammered against my ribs.

This was it. The "surprise."

"Ladies and gentlemen," Ethan announced, his voice booming. "Tonight is about new beginnings. About celebrating success. And about partnership."

As he spoke, a massive, elaborate cake was wheeled onto the stage. My blood ran cold. It was a mango mousse cake. My most severe, life-threatening allergy.

Ethan turned to me, his eyes shining with a triumph that made me sick.

He got down on one knee.

A collective gasp went through the audience.

"Sarah Jenkins," he said, pulling out a velvet box. "My muse, my rock, the heart of my company. I know we went our separate ways, but I was a fool. Let's make it official again. Marry me?"

The public proposal from an ex was a masterstroke of manipulation, designed to trap me.

But before I could react, the massive screen behind us, which was supposed to be showing highlights of the evening, flickered to life. It was a series of photos, expertly edited to look damning. Me in a café, laughing with a key executive from Liam Sterling's company. A grainy security still of me entering a hotel late at night-on a business trip I took alone. It was all twisted to look like corporate espionage, like infidelity to the company.

The crowd erupted in shocked whispers. The humiliation was a burning wave. Across the room, I saw Olivia, standing near the bar, a tiny, triumphant smirk on her face.

In that instant, I understood everything. The cake, the photos, the public proposal. It was a trap. A perfectly orchestrated execution.

My rage was a white-hot flash. I walked straight off the stage, through the stunned crowd, and right up to Olivia.

I slapped her. Hard. The sound echoed in the sudden silence.

Ethan's head snapped towards us. His proposal, my answer, forgotten.

"Sarah!" he yelled, scrambling to his feet.

He didn't even glance back at me. He shoved past the astonished onlookers and rushed to Olivia's side. He stepped between us, shielding Olivia as if I were the attacker, his arms wrapping around her protectively.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he snarled at me, his voice dripping with venom. "Are you out of your mind? Making a scene like this!"

He turned his back on me completely, fussing over a whimpering Olivia.

"Come on, Liv, let's get you out of here," he said, his voice now full of tender concern. He put his arm around her, comforting her, and strode towards the exit, leaving me alone in the center of the room, the target of a hundred pairs of staring, judging eyes.

The whispers started again, louder this time.

"Did you see that? He just left her!"

"Poor girl. What a train wreck."

"Guess we know who he really cares about."

I watched him go, and I felt nothing. No pain, no love, just the cold, hard certainty of a war that had just been declared.

I calmly walked off the ballroom floor, picked up my purse from our empty table, and headed for the exit, ignoring the pitying stares.

My new life was waiting.