Chapter 1

Ethan Miller looked at the security feed on his monitor and smiled.

The image was serene. Sunlight streamed into the minimalist studio he had built for his fiancée, Seraphina Blackwood. The polished bamboo floors reflected the light, and a single white yoga mat sat in the center of the room. It was a picture of peace, a perfect reflection of the woman he loved.

Seraphina was his everything. He was a tech mogul, a man who dealt in code and chaos, but she was his sanctuary. She claimed to value spiritual growth over material wealth, a minimalist who found joy in simplicity. He adored that about her. He believed in her purity with every fiber of his being. To support her journey, he' d spared no expense building this secluded smart-home studio, a place for her "meditation and yoga." It was his gift, a testament to his devotion.

He loved her so much that he ignored the whispers from his business partners, the gentle warnings that Seraphina' s family, the Blackwoods, were users. He had, after all, saved their family business years ago from a con artist, a man named Liam Stone. He' d done it for Seraphina, asking nothing in return. He thought that proved his genuine intentions.

His phone buzzed, pulling him from his thoughts. It was a system alert from the studio. Not a security breach, but an unusual power consumption warning. The energy draw was massive, inconsistent with a few lights and a sound system for meditation.

Probably a faulty breaker, he thought.

He decided to drive over and check it himself. It was a good excuse to see Seraphina, to surprise her during her spiritual practice. He imagined her peaceful expression, the gentle flow of her movements. The thought warmed him.

The drive to the secluded property was quiet. The studio was nestled deep within a wooded area, designed for absolute privacy. As he pulled up, he noticed several expensive cars parked along the hidden access road, cars that definitely didn't belong to his minimalist fiancée.

A flicker of unease went through him.

He got out of his car and walked toward the studio. The building itself was soundproofed, a feature he' d designed to ensure her meditation was never disturbed. But as he got closer, he could feel a faint, rhythmic bass vibrating through the soles of his shoes.

His heart began to beat a little faster. This wasn't right.

He used his master override code on the keypad. The lock clicked open silently. He pushed the heavy door just a crack, his unease now a cold knot in his stomach.

The serene sanctuary from the security feed was gone.

In its place was a scene of pure hedonism. The air was thick with the smell of champagne and expensive perfume. Dim, colored lights pulsed to the beat of loud, throbbing music. The bamboo floor was crowded with people, dancing and laughing. And in the center of it all, surrounded by a group of handsome, well-dressed men, was Seraphina.

She was laughing, a glass of champagne in her hand, looking more like a queen in her court than a spiritualist. This wasn't a yoga studio. It was a den of debauchery, her personal playground.

He felt the blood drain from his face. He was about to step inside, to demand an explanation, but then he heard her voice, loud and clear over a lull in the music.

"He totally bought it!" Seraphina shrieked with laughter, gesturing vaguely towards the door. "The idiot actually thinks I come here to meditate."

Her friends roared with approval.

"He built me this whole place, every last detail," she continued, her voice dripping with contempt. "He thinks he' s supporting my 'spiritual journey.' What a joke. I' m getting revenge. He thinks he saved my family? He just got in the way. He' s the reason Liam left me all those years ago. This is what he gets for ruining my life."

One of her friends chimed in, "So you're just going to bleed him dry and then dump him?"

"Of course," Seraphina said, taking a long sip of her champagne. "I'm going to drain his bank accounts, ruin his reputation, and leave him with nothing. It' s what he deserves. I' ll make him feel so small, so worthless, he' ll never recover. He' s just a tool, a stepping stone to get back what I lost."

The world tilted on its axis. Ethan stumbled back, his hand covering his mouth to stifle a gasp. Every word was a physical blow. The love he felt, the devotion, the life he thought they were building-it was all a lie. A long, calculated, cruel deception.

He saw it all with sickening clarity now. He wasn't her savior, he was her target. Her revenge fantasy. She didn't love him. She hated him. She hated him for a crime he didn' t even commit, for "saving" her from a man who had clearly been her partner in crime.

He stumbled back to his car, his mind a whirlwind of torment. The shock was so profound it felt like his soul had been ripped from his body. He was a fool. A naive, trusting fool.

He thought of all he had done for her. He' d poured millions into stabilizing the Blackwood family business after her ex-boyfriend, Liam, had nearly bankrupted it. He'd bought her a penthouse apartment because she needed a "simple space with a good view to feel grounded." He'd funded her "charity" which, he now realized, was probably just a slush fund for her and her friends.

And this studio... this monument to his love was actually a monument to his stupidity.

He gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white. A wave of pure, undiluted rage washed over the heartbreak. The kind, gentle man who had walked up to that studio door was gone. In his place was someone cold, someone broken, someone who now saw the world with terrifying clarity.

As he clenched his fist, a strange thing happened. For a split second, a faint golden light seemed to shimmer around his knuckles, almost invisible in the dim light of the car. It was a phenomenon he' d noticed before in moments of intense focus or emotion, a strange warmth he' d always dismissed as a trick of the light. His "lucky touch," as Mr. Blackwood had once called it.

Tonight, it didn't feel like luck. It felt like power.

And he was going to use it to reclaim his life.