Chapter 3

Back at the penthouse, the silence was heavy. Sophia followed me into the master bathroom, her face a mask of concern. Or so she tried to make it seem. "Let me see," she said, reaching for my head. I flinched away from her touch. "It's nothing," I said, my voice flat. She persisted, dabbing at a small cut on my temple with a cloth. Her touch felt cold, perfunctory. "Jake... he didn't mean for this to happen," she began, her voice soft. "He's just... volatile. He gets so upset." Her phone buzzed on the marble countertop. Jake's name flashed on the screen. She glanced at it, then back at me, a flicker of something in her eyes. Annoyance? Guilt? I picked up the phone, answered it before she could. "Hello?" Jake's panicked voice filled the speaker. "Sophia? Soph, I... I can't breathe. I think I'm having a panic attack. I need you." I looked at Sophia, her eyes wide. A detached calm settled over me. This was it. The perfect out. "Go to him," I said, my voice devoid of any inflection. "He clearly needs you more." She stared at me, searching my face. Misinterpreting. Was this a test? Was I indifferent? "Ethan, I..." "Go," I repeated, turning away. She hesitated for a moment, then grabbed her purse and phone. She left without another word. The click of the door closing behind her was a sound of finality. Good. Let her go. Let her choose. She already had. The moment she was gone, I called Marc. "Marc, I need you to do something for me." "Anything, Ethan. What's up?" "Sophia's things. All of them. From the penthouse, from the Hamptons house, from anywhere else. I want them cleared out. Tonight." "Cleared out? Where do you want them sent?" "Her gallery," I said. "Ship everything there. Every last item." "Consider it done," Marc said, no judgment in his voice. Just efficiency. That's why he was my partner. I hung up. The purge had begun. I felt... lighter. I needed a drink. A real one. Not the solitary scotches in my study. "Meet me at The Aviary," I told Marc in a text. He replied with a simple "On my way." The Aviary was a high-end bar, sleek and modern. The kind of place where deals were made and secrets were whispered. Marc was already there when I arrived, a drink in hand. "So, it's really over?" he asked, getting straight to the point. "It never really began," I said, signaling the bartender. We talked business for a while, AuraTech's expansion, new projects. Then, a familiar voice cut through the ambient noise. "Ethan!" Sophia. She stormed towards our table, her face flushed with anger. Friends must have seen me, texted her. The city was a small town for people like us. Someone must have mentioned I was "with another woman." Chloe Davis, our Head of European Operations, had joined us briefly. She was in town from Dublin for meetings. Smart, professional, no-nonsense. She'd excused herself just moments before Sophia's dramatic entrance. "What are you doing?" Sophia demanded, her voice sharp. "Having a drink," I said, my tone deliberately casual. I was a few whiskeys in, feeling the buzz. "With her?" she gestured vaguely to where Chloe had been sitting. "You're already moving on? Callously?" I laughed, a bitter, hollow sound. "You look so much like Ava," I said, the alcohol loosening my tongue, letting the raw truth slip out. Her eyes widened, a flash of hurt, quickly masked by anger. "But you never liked me anyway, did you, Sophia?" I continued, the words tumbling out. "Maybe I should find someone else to 'sponsor'." The word "sponsor" hung in the air, ugly and transactional. Her face contorted with rage. She grabbed my arm, her grip surprisingly strong. "You're drunk," she hissed. "We're leaving." She started to drag me out of the bar, creating another scene. I didn't resist. Part of me found a perverse satisfaction in her fury. At least it was a genuine emotion.