Chapter 1

It was Valentine's Day.

It was also Lily' s fifth birthday.

Our San Francisco house buzzed with the party.

Too many people, too much noise.

I saw Izzy, my wife, lean close to Lily, our daughter.

She whispered something in French.

Lily giggled, then faced her elaborate cake, candles flickering.

She closed her eyes, then blew them out with a determined puff.

She made her wish, loud and clear, in perfect French.

"Je souhaite que maman et papa divorcent, et que tonton Julian soit mon nouveau papa."

I wish Mommy and Daddy would divorce, and Uncle Julian could be my new daddy.

The words hit me.

Hard.

I' d learned French during those long, quiet nights.

The nights Izzy lay in a coma after her car accident.

A Traumatic Brain Injury, they called it.

Now, I understood every single, cruel word.

Izzy confirmed it a moment later, her eyes cold.

"Lily means it, Ethan. She wants this."

Julian, my older brother, stood beside Izzy, a smug look on his face.

He was the original fiancé.

He' d fled to Europe when Izzy went into her coma, unwilling to be tied to a comatose woman.

Her powerful Silicon Valley family needed her married to keep control of her tech empire shares.

A clause in a family trust.

My family, always favoring Julian, pressured me.

I was the overlooked younger brother, the struggling musician.

I also had a secret, a rare chronic illness that brought waves of pain and fatigue.

A mysterious entity offered a Pact: marry Isabella, win her heart, and my illness would be cured.

I agreed.

Izzy woke up a year ago.

Julian returned three months ago, charming Izzy, charming Lily.

Now, he was here, ready to take his place.

Later, in her study, Izzy slid divorce papers across the polished desk.

A check was attached. Fifty million dollars.

An NDA was part of the package.

"You were a placeholder, Ethan," she said, her voice devoid of emotion.

"Julian's back. It's time for you to go."

The words were like ice.

Fifty million. For five years of my life.

For caring for her when she was unresponsive.

For raising Lily.

"Did you ever... did you ever feel anything for me, Izzy?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

The question felt stupid even as I asked it.

She laughed, a short, sharp sound.

"Ethan, please. I was engaged to Julian. He' s my equal. You were a means to an end."

My heart shattered.

I remembered the Pact. "Win her heart."

I thought I had. I thought the small smiles, the shared moments after she woke, meant something.

I thought she saw me.

I was a fool.

The entity had said my illness was in remission because Lily was born, a product of our union, fulfilling a part of the pact.

But "winning her heart" was the true key to a permanent cure.

I had failed. Miserably.

I picked up the papers, my hand trembling slightly.

"Alright, Izzy. I'll sign."

My voice was hoarse.

I tried to keep the pain from showing.

She nodded, satisfied.

"You can see Lily sometimes, of course. If you behave."

Condescending. Always.

As if I were a disobedient pet.

Then, I heard Lily outside the study door, her voice bright and cruel.

"Mommy, is he gone yet? Uncle Julian says he' ll take me to Disneyland! Daddy never takes me anywhere fun, he only makes me eat yucky vegetables and says no to too much TV!"

She was talking to Izzy, but the words were for me.

I remembered all the nights I pureed organic vegetables, trying to keep her healthy.

All the times I patiently explained why too much screen time was bad.

All the lullabies I wrote and sang for her.

All the stories I read.

All for nothing.

She preferred Julian' s promises of theme parks and expensive toys.

A few hours later, Izzy posted a photo on Instagram.

Her, Julian, and Lily, beaming at the Vance family' s Napa Valley estate.

A place I was never invited to.

The caption: "Reunited with my true love and our precious girl. The future is bright! #FamilyFirst #RealLove."

TMZ and Page Six picked it up instantly.

"Tech Heiress Izzy Vance Dumps Musician Husband for Ex-Fiancé Julian Miller!"

The humiliation burned.

I sat alone in my small music room, the only space in the house that felt like mine.

I posted a stoic reply to her post: "Wishing you all the happiness, Izzy. Thanks for the fifty million."

Then, I spoke to the empty room, to the Pact Entity.

"I've fulfilled my end as best I could. Lily was born. My illness was put into remission. I want out of this life."

A disembodied voice, neutral and cold, responded almost immediately.

"Pact considered complete with Lily's birth. Your illness was put into remission as stipulated for the child's arrival. Exit granted. You have 10 days."