Chapter 4

I loved making games. It wasn' t just a hobby; it was who I was. The logic of the code, the creativity of the art, the challenge of building a world from scratch-it was the only thing that made sense to me. Chloe saw it as a childish pastime, something I' d eventually grow out of.

What she never knew, because she never cared enough to ask, was that I wasn't just a struggling artist. While my big project, "Echoes of Starlight," was a passion project, I'd been quietly successful in other ways. I' d created and sold several high-demand asset packs on the major game development platforms. My pixel art environments and character sprites were used in dozens of other indie games. It wasn' t glamorous, but it was profitable. I had my own income, my own success, entirely separate from her.

I' d tried to tell her once, a few years back. I' d just made a huge sale, a licensing deal with a well-known studio. I was ecstatic. I ran into the living room to show her the contract.

She was on the phone with Liam, laughing. She waved a dismissive hand at me without even looking up. "Not now, Ethan. We're brainstorming."

I just stood there, the papers in my hand suddenly feeling foolish. I felt like a child trying to show his mother a drawing while she was busy with important adult conversation. I quietly retreated to my office and never tried to share my professional victories with her again.

So now, as she stood there offering me a job like a bone to a dog, I felt a cold, clear anger.

"A real company," I repeated her words. "You mean your company. Working for you."

"And Liam," she added, as if that were a selling point. "It's a great chance for you to be part of what we're building."

I let out a short, humorless laugh. "Chloe, do you have any idea what I do?"

"You make games," she said, her tone implying it was simple and unimportant.

"I run a business," I corrected her. "A small one, but it's mine. And it's successful."

She rolled her eyes. "Ethan, don't be dramatic. A few hundred dollars from a game sale isn't a business."

I walked over to my desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out my latest bank statement. I didn't say a word. I just handed it to her.

She took it, a confused look on her face. Her eyes scanned the page. Then they widened. She looked from the paper to me, then back to the paper. The balance was well into six figures.

"Where... where did this come from?" she stammered. "Is this from your corporate job? Did you get a huge bonus?"

"I quit that job six months ago," I said flatly. "That's from my 'little pixel art'."

The color drained from her face. She was completely speechless. All her assumptions, all her condescending beliefs about me and my "hobby," were shattered in an instant. The power dynamic in the room shifted, and it was a physical, palpable thing. She was no longer the successful provider indulging her struggling artist husband. She was just a woman who had no idea who she was married to.

"But... you never said anything," she whispered.

"You were never listening," I replied.

She tried to recover, to regain control. "Okay, so you have some money. That's great. But you could still work with us. Imagine what we could do together!"

I held up a hand, cutting her off. "I'm not interested, Chloe."

My gaze drifted past her, to the faint scent of Liam's cologne that still hung in the air.

"And I'm definitely not interested in working with your partner."