Olivia’s voice dripped with cold impatience. "Ethan, it’s time you learned to read the room."

"Your accounts are frozen. If you walk out on this marriage now, you’ll leave with nothing but the clothes on your back. That’s what the prenup says. Tell me, how much is your precious pride actually worth?"

She stepped closer, her expression stiff. "Take the money Damon offered, get your hand fixed, and stop making trouble for Ryker. If you keep pushing, you aren't going to find justice—you're just going to make your own life a living hell."

"I see," Ethan retorted, his voice tight. "You’re just afraid that if I make a scene, it’ll tarnish your hotel’s reputation."

A sharp, stabbing pain bloomed in Ethan’s chest. He remembered a time, long ago, when he’d accidentally burned his hand while testing a new recipe. Back then, Olivia had been frantic, her face pale with worry. She’d babied him, dressing the burn herself and fussing over him, terrified he’d hurt himself again.

Now, his hand was covered in weeping blisters, yet she didn’t even glance at them. Instead, she demanded he suffer in silence. It was pathetic.

The bitterness rising in his throat was suffocating. Ethan turned his face toward the window, refusing to look at her.

Seeing his silence, Olivia rubbed her temples. "Whatever games you think you’re playing, I have the power to crush them. Don’t test my patience. It’s Eli’s birthday tonight. Be at the house."

Ethan didn’t answer, but once he finished his IV drip at the hospital, he found himself picking up a sugar-free cake anyway. By habit, he returned to the house they shared.

The moment he stepped inside, he saw them. Olivia and Damon were sitting on the rug, laughing as they helped little Eli with a set of new toys. The scene felt like a serrated blade, a constant reminder of who really belonged in this family.

Then, his gaze fell on the gifts Damon had brought—a bundle of stuffed animals and a bowl of ice cream. Ethan felt his blood run cold.

"Eli has severe asthma," Ethan said, his voice sharp. "He can't have plush toys, and he definitely can't have sugar. Get these away from him." He looked at the floor, his eyes narrowing. "Did you even sanitize these? Do you have any idea what an infection could do to him?"

Damon’s smile vanished, replaced by a look of sheer annoyance. "These are gifts I picked out for my son. I don't recall asking for your input." He reached down, stroking the boy’s hair. "What did Daddy teach you?"

Eli hesitated, his innocent eyes wide as he looked at Ethan. "Bad Daddy," he chirped, pointing a small finger. "You're a bad daddy!"

With a giggle, the boy grabbed a toy and hurled it at Ethan’s face. "I hate you! I don't want you to be my daddy anymore. I like Daddy Damon! I want him!"

Olivia frowned, her gaze sharpening. "He was having a perfectly good time with Damon until you walked in and ruined the mood. No wonder the kid can't stand you."

Ethan stood frozen, staring at her. The irony was suffocating.

He’d spent the last four years waking up in a panic every time the boy’s asthma flared. He’d stayed up all night, nursing him, terrified of losing him. But the part that crushed him wasn't the boy’s rejection—it was the realization that four years of devotion meant nothing compared to the "biological" father who hadn't been there for a single day of it.

He wanted to slap himself for his own stupidity. He had once thought the hardest part of leaving this toxic marriage would be losing Eli. He’d feared the boy would miss him.

Now, standing in the middle of that room, he felt nothing. No love, no attachment, no grief. Just empty air.

Ethan turned without another word and headed upstairs. He wasn’t going to beg for their respect. He started packing his bags. He was finished with this house.

In the middle of the night, a sharp, acrid scent of burning plastic snapped him awake. Thick, black smoke began to snake through the gaps in his door, accompanied by the muffled sound of frantic footsteps and screams.

"Fire! Get out! Get out now!"

Ethan shoved the door open. A wall of heat and smoke slammed into him, choking the breath from his lungs. Through the shimmering, distorted heat, he saw Olivia. She was helping a seemingly incapacitated Damon toward the safety of the fire exit.

She looked up, catching sight of him through the haze. Her eyes held no fear for him, no hesitation. She didn't even slow down. She simply turned her back and vanished into the smoke, abandoning him to the flames.

"Cough..." Ethan gagged, his vision tunneling into darkness.

Above him, the ceiling joist groaned, buckling under the inferno. Before he could scramble away, the structure collapsed. The heavy beam crashed down, pinning him to the floor.

The world went black.