Chapter 2

The emergency room was cold, sterile.

A kind nurse led Michael to a small, quiet room.

Ethan lay on a gurney, a sheet pulled up to his chest.

His face was pale, peaceful. Too peaceful.

Michael reached out, his hand trembling, and touched Ethan' s cool forehead.

"My boy," he choked out. "My son."

Tears he didn't know he had streamed down his face.

He had worked his whole life, destroyed his health, for this boy.

For a future that was now erased.

He stayed there for a long time, just looking at Ethan.

Remembering.

The doctor explained it was quick. A massive impact. He wouldn't have suffered.

Small comfort.

Michael had to find Jessica. She had to see him.

He remembered what she said. "Brandon's party." Kevin's place.

Kevin lived in a rich part of town, a place Michael had never been.

He got the address from an old Christmas card.

The house was a mansion, blazing with lights, music thumping.

Valet parkers rushed around. Luxury cars lined the street.

Michael, in his worn work clothes, felt like an alien.

He walked past the security guard, who barely glanced at him, and into the backyard.

It was an extravagant scene. Caterers, a band, a huge "Congratulations Brandon!" banner.

And there was Jessica.

Laughing, champagne flute in her hand, standing next to a beaming Kevin.

Brandon, a smug-looking kid about Ethan's age, was unwrapping a gift.

It was a set of keys.

"A new SUV, buddy!" Kevin announced. "And Jessica also got you a little something for college."

Jessica handed Brandon a thick envelope.

"It's the deed to a beach house in Malibu," she said, smiling. "And this." She gave him a sleek black credit card. "Unlimited."

Brandon whooped, hugging Jessica. "You're the best, Aunt Jess!"

Michael felt sick.

His son was dead, and his wife was buying luxury cars and beach houses for her friend's spoiled brat.

He walked towards them, the crowd parting slightly.

"Jessica."

She turned, her smile freezing when she saw him.

"Michael? What are you doing here? You look terrible."

"It's Ethan," Michael said, his voice hoarse. "He's dead, Jessica. Our son is dead."

Her eyes widened slightly, but there was no grief. Just... annoyance?

"Dead? Michael, don't be so dramatic. What happened?"

Kevin stepped forward. "Hey, Mike, bad timing, man. We're celebrating here."

"He was killed," Michael said, his voice rising. "A hit-and-run. While you were here, buying gifts."

Jessica' s face hardened. "Don't you dare ruin Brandon's night, Michael. We can talk about this later."

"Later?" Michael felt a rage building he'd never known. "Our son is lying in a morgue, and you want to talk later?"

He must have looked threatening because Kevin put a hand on his chest.

"Calm down, Mike."

Later that night, after the party guests had thinned, Michael found himself in Kevin's opulent study. He'd been waiting, numb.

Jessica came in, followed by Kevin. She looked tired, but not sad.

"Michael, I am sorry about Ethan," she began, her tone flat.

He just stared at her.

Then he heard her talking to Kevin in the adjoining room, the door slightly ajar. Her voice was low, conspiratorial.

"He doesn't understand, Kev. I've been playing poor all these years for their sake. So Michael would work hard, so Ethan would be motivated. They already have my love, so a little suffering is fine. I was going to compensate them, make it all up to them once Brandon was settled in college."

Michael's blood ran cold.

Playing poor.

Eighteen years.

His sacrifices, Ethan's sacrifices... a game?

"A little suffering is fine."

He felt like he was going to throw up.

This was not his wife. This was a monster.