Chapter 2

The days that followed were a clean slate. Donavan systematically purged his life of the trio. He removed their photos from his digital frames, deleted their numbers, and instructed his staff to politely decline their calls and visits. His focus was singular: the upcoming marriage to Alexa Cain. The alliance had been swiftly and surprisingly accepted by Marcus Cain in New York, who seemed intrigued by the bold move.

Donavan worked with a cold efficiency that impressed his father. He was no longer the boy who lived in the shadow of his childhood friendships. He was the Pittman heir, forging a new path.

But the past was not done with him yet.

A week later, he was descending the main staircase when he saw them. Kortney, Danielle, and Jinnie were in the foyer, grouped protectively around Jeb, who was leaning on a cane with a theatrical limp.

They had apparently browbeaten the new butler into letting them in.

"Donavan," Kortney called out, her voice sharp with accusation. "We need to talk."

Jeb looked up at him, his face a mask of pitiable innocence. "Mr. Pittman, sir. It's my fault. I just wanted to come and thank you in person for... for everything."

The fawning submission in Jeb's voice was perfectly calibrated to make Donavan seem like a tyrant.

"Thank me for what, Jeb?" Donavan asked, his voice flat. He continued down the stairs, his steps unhurried.

"For allowing me to stay on here, even after... well, after everything," Jeb mumbled, his eyes downcast. "I know my place. I would be happy to polish your shoes, sir. It's the least I can do."

Before Jeb could even make a move, Danielle stepped in front of him. "Don't be ridiculous, Jeb. You're not his servant. And your ankle is still hurt."

"He's been so brave," Jinnie added softly, placing a comforting hand on Jeb's arm. "But you shouldn't be on your feet, Jeb."

Kortney turned her glare on Donavan. "Can't you see he's injured? Why would you even let him think about doing chores? Have you no compassion?"

The absurdity of it was almost breathtaking. They stood in his house, accusing him of cruelty toward the man they had abandoned him for just days ago.

"This is my house," Donavan stated calmly. "Jeb is the son of the estate manager. If he wishes to work, that is his decision. If you are so concerned for his well-being, perhaps you should take him home with you."

He hadn't meant it as a serious suggestion, but the words were a test. A test he already knew the answer to.

Jeb's eyes widened in fake horror. He suddenly lost his balance, his cane clattering to the floor. With a dramatic cry, he fell to his knees. "Mr. Pittman, please! Don't send me away! I have nowhere else to go! My family has served yours for generations. Please, don't cast me out!"

It was a masterful performance.

"Jeb!" the three women cried in unison.

They scrambled to help him, their faces contorted with anger and pity.

"Donavan, how could you!" Kortney shrieked, cradling Jeb's head. "Look what you've done!"

"He was just trying to be polite!" Danielle snapped, her eyes flashing with fury as she helped Jeb to his feet. "You're a monster!"

They huddled around Jeb, murmuring words of comfort, completely ignoring Donavan. He was once again an outsider in his own home, the villain in their self-made drama.

A profound weariness washed over him. He felt the phantom pains of his first life, the decades of being overlooked, of being nothing more than a convenient backdrop for their obsession.

He turned without a word and walked back up the stairs. The sound of their accusations followed him, a cacophony of misplaced loyalty and blind devotion. He closed his bedroom door, shutting them out.

But the peace was short-lived.

A few minutes later, there was a soft knock. "Mr. Pittman?" It was Jeb. "I... I brought you some coffee. I'm so sorry for the trouble I caused."

Donavan opened the door. Jeb stood there, holding a tray with a single cup of coffee, his face a picture of remorse.

"I don't want it," Donavan said, his voice cold. "Leave."

"Please, sir," Jeb insisted, stepping forward. "Just one sip. I made it myself."

As he moved into the room, Jeb stumbled, his body lurching forward. The tray tilted, and the scalding hot coffee splashed directly onto Donavan's hand and arm.

Pain, sharp and searing, shot up his arm. He cried out, instinctively shoving Jeb away from him.

It was exactly what Jeb had been waiting for.

The push was not hard, but Jeb used the momentum to throw himself backward with incredible force. He twisted his body, aiming his head directly at the sharp corner of the wooden nightstand.

There was a sickening crack.

Jeb slumped to the floor, a thin trickle of blood appearing on his temple. He let out a gut-wrenching sob. "Aah! My head!"

The scream was a signal.

The bedroom door flew open. Kortney, Danielle, and Jinnie rushed in, their eyes wide with alarm. They saw Jeb on the floor, bleeding. They saw Donavan standing over him, his hand red and blistered from the coffee.

They didn't ask what happened. They didn't notice his injury.

They saw only what Jeb wanted them to see.

"Oh my god, Jeb!" Kortney screamed, dropping to his side.

Danielle and Jinnie were right behind her, pushing past Donavan as if he were a piece of furniture. In their haste, Danielle's shoulder slammed into Donavan's injured arm, sending a fresh wave of agony through him.

He stumbled back, clutching his arm, his heart and his flesh burning with the same fire.

He watched them. The three women he once loved, now fussing over the man who had orchestrated his lifelong misery. They carefully lifted Jeb, their faces a mask of pure terror and concern. They completely ignored Donavan, who was bleeding and burned because of their precious Jeb's scheme.

They carried Jeb out of the room, their frantic footsteps echoing down the hall.

Donavan stood alone in the silence, the smell of coffee and betrayal thick in the air. A single tear, hot and bitter, traced a path down his cheek. It was not a tear of sadness, but of finality.

This was the end. He would never let them touch his world again. He would burn the whole memory of them to the ground.