Chapter 3 - The Price of Treachery
"Cooper!" I yelled, throwing the truck into park and leaping out before the engine had even fully died.
"Ethan, wait! It's a trap!" Sarah screamed from the passenger seat, but I couldn't hear her over the roaring in my ears. Cooper was my anchor. He was the only thing that had kept me alive during the dark months after the divorce.
I bolted up the wooden steps, my boots thudding heavily. The front door’s lock was splintered—forced open with a crowbar. Inside, the house was dead quiet.
"Cooper!"
A soft whimper came from the kitchen. I rushed in, my heart in my throat. Cooper was lying under the kitchen table, his leash wrapped tightly around his legs, whimpering in distress but physically unharmed. Next to him on the kitchen island sat a pristine, thick manila envelope.
On the front, written in elegant, flowing cursive that I recognized instantly, was my name: Ethan.
I knelt down, quickly untangling Cooper and hugging him close. His tail gave a weak, hesitant wag.
Sarah appeared at the kitchen doorway, holding a sleeping Lily tightly against her chest. She looked around the wrecked entryway, her eyes filled with immense guilt. "This is my fault. I brought this to your door."
"This isn't your fault," I said, standing up, my voice dangerously calm. "This is Julian. And Melissa."
I picked up the envelope. Inside was a stack of legal documents and a handwritten note. I slid the note out first.
Dear Ethan, It’s been a while. You always did have a habit of picking up my leftovers. First your dignity, now my fiancé’s ex-wife? We need to talk. Drop the girl, or I’ll make sure the court hears all about your 'unstable mental state' and the little breakdown you had after our divorce. I still have the medical records, darling. Let’s not make this ugly. - Melissa.
I stared at the paper, a cold, hard rage solidifying inside me. During the height of the divorce, when my world had collapsed, I had checked myself into a quiet clinic for a week to deal with severe clinical depression and sleep deprivation. Melissa had promised she would never use it against me.
She had lied. About everything.
"What does it say?" Sarah asked, her voice trembling.
I handed her the papers. It wasn't just a threat to me. It was a formal custody filing, alleging that Sarah was exposing Lily to "unstable, dangerous individuals with histories of psychiatric instability"—namely, me. They had documented our blind date before it had even ended.
"They set us up," Sarah whispered, tears finally spilling over her lashes. "Claire didn't know... or did she?"
"No, Claire would never," I said immediately. "But Melissa still has contacts in my family's social circle. She must have caught wind of the setup."
Suddenly, my phone buzzed in my pocket. It was an unknown number.
I picked it up. "Who is this?"
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"Ethan," a smooth, baritone voice chuckled on the other end. "I see you found our little housewarming gift. I suggest you look out your window."
CHAPTER 3 HOOK: I walked slowly to the living room window and parted the blinds. Across the street, parked under a dying streetlamp, was a silver sports car. In the passenger seat sat Melissa, holding her phone to her ear, staring directly at my window with a cold, triumphant smile.
