Chapter 2

Senator Hayes's unofficial decree, or rather, his reluctant acceptance, rippled through their social circles.

Isabella Hayes would be allowed to marry Julian Vance.

Ethan Carter was heading to a warzone.

The public narrative would be swift and predictable: the jilted hero, running from heartbreak; the triumphant new couple, forging their own destiny.

Ethan anticipated the whispers, the pitying looks, the speculation.

He found himself thinking back, not with longing, but with a detached curiosity.

There was a time he'd genuinely believed in a future with Izzy.

He' d desired her companionship, the life they were supposed to build.

Now, that path was irrevocably gone, overgrown and distant.

His road led east, to conflict and uncertainty. Hers, to whatever future Julian Vance would provide.

Ethan returned to his quiet apartment, a stark contrast to the Hayes mansion.

He began to prepare for deployment.

His gear needed checking, his affairs put in order.

He called his team leader at Blackwood, confirming his accelerated departure.

He ensured his small team of subordinates within the company knew of his transfer, their roles temporarily reassigned.

Responsibility was a comfort, a known quantity in a world suddenly tilted on its axis.

Izzy, meanwhile, embraced her new narrative with gusto.

She and Julian were seen everywhere, their upcoming wedding hinted at in glossy magazines.

Lavish parties were thrown in their honor by Julian' s new, wealthy acolytes.

She sought public approval, framing their love as a brave defiance of old-fashioned constraints.

Her Instagram feed was a curated stream of their "authentic" life – expensive minimalist dinners, art gallery openings, pronouncements of Julian's "genius."

Public opinion, swayed by Julian's charisma and Izzy's socialite sparkle, largely sided with them.

Theirs was the "great love story," a triumph over the "stuffy establishment" that Ethan, by association, represented.

They were "modern," "evolved," "courageous."

Ethan was the past.

Ethan remained largely indifferent to the public adulation for Izzy and Julian.

He was focused on his mission, on the logistics of war.

The noise of their celebrity was a distant hum, irrelevant to the stark realities he was preparing to face.

His emotional detachment was a shield, hard-won in the days following the gala.

Then, an announcement caught his attention.

A local historical society, one his late grandfather had passionately supported, was holding its annual awards gala.

The grand prize for a community service award was an antique map of the region, a rare piece his grandfather, a historian as well as a veteran, had always admired.

It had been on display at the society for years, and Ethan knew his grandfather had often spoken of its beauty and historical significance.

Ethan decided to attend. Not for the society, not for the public eye, but for the map.

If he could win the award – his recent, albeit quiet, work with Mac's veteran NPO might qualify him – he would retrieve the map.

He planned to place it at his grandfather's resting place, a final tribute.

It was a small, sentimental goal, a connection to the honor Izzy had so casually dismissed.

The gala was a smaller affair, more subdued than the high-society crush of Izzy's world.

Still, Ethan was recognized.

"Captain Carter! Such a surprise to see you out." A woman with sharp eyes and a sharper smile cornered him.

"We all heard about... well, about Miss Hayes. Such a shame. But then, love is fickle, isn't it?"

Her friends tittered. He was the subject of their pitying, mocking gazes.

The man publicly abandoned.

Ethan nodded politely, extricating himself.

He avoided confrontation, his eyes scanning the room for the awards display.

And then he saw her.

Izzy. With Julian Vance at her side, of course.

His stomach tightened. This was an "unavoidable family gathering" in the sense that Izzy's mother was a patron of the historical society.

Izzy spotted him. Her expression flickered – surprise, then a cool composure.

She approached, Julian a smug shadow behind her.

"Ethan," she said, her voice devoid of warmth. "I trust you received word from Father. Our... previous arrangement is no more."

"I did," Ethan confirmed, his tone even.

"Good." She gave a slight, dismissive nod. "Actually, Julian and I were just discussing. Father still feels... indebted to your family. There might be a consultant role for you in one of his companies. If you're looking for something... less demanding. After your service."

It was a clear demotion, an insult wrapped in a pretense of concern, likely Julian' s idea. Suggesting he could still be "useful" if he "adapted."

Ethan felt a flash of ice. A consultant. After a career leading men in high-stakes operations.

His impending deployment, the danger, the sacrifice – she was either ignorant of it or, worse, dismissive.

Before he could formulate a suitably cold refusal, she turned away, drawn by someone else.

She hadn't even waited for an answer, her self-absorption complete.

Julian Vance, however, lingered.

He smirked. "Tough break, Captain. But you know, the old ways are crumbling. Tradition, duty... they're anchors, not wings."

He gestured expansively. "Izzy, she needs freedom. Authenticity. Something you, with your... rigid background... could never offer."

He puffed his chest slightly. "I, on the other hand, I'm about breaking barriers. Modern thought. True liberation."

Ethan looked at Vance, truly looked at him.

The man's arrogance was astounding, his understanding of the world paper-thin.

"Modern, Vance?" Ethan said, his voice quiet but carrying an edge. "Is it modern to plagiarize your 'revolutionary ideas' from self-help books published a decade ago? Is it 'free' to be so dependent on the validation of others?"

He' d done a little research after Izzy' s infatuation became clear. Vance' s "genius" was mostly recycled.

"You talk a good game about 'practical skills for the new age,' but I doubt you could change a tire, let alone navigate a real crisis."

Vance's smirk faltered, a flicker of anger in his eyes.

"You're just bitter, Carter. Stuck in the past."

He glanced towards the antique map displayed prominently. "That map you're eyeing? Izzy tells me your grandfather liked it. A relic, just like your worldview. Don't get too attached. Some things are just meant to be... recontextualized by the new."

The threat was veiled but clear. Vance would try to interfere.

The competition for the award, and the map, had just become personal.