Chapter 4

On our tenth anniversary, Ethan reserved the private rooftop of the hotel where we had held our wedding reception.

White roses covered the floor. A pianist played softly in one corner.

Ethan poured the champagne and raised his glass.

"To the woman who never left me."

I did not smile. I only touched the rim of my glass to his.

"What did it feel like?" I asked quietly.

He paused.

"What did what feel like?"

"Taking those first steps on your own."

He looked down at our joined hands.

"Honestly? Like I was about to fall flat on my face in front of eight hundred people."

"And when you were scared, who was the first person you wanted?"

He did not hesitate.

"You."

His thumb brushed over the diamond on my ring finger.

"I will always look for you first."

Such a perfect, effortless lie.

Before the main course arrived, his phone lit up.

A message from Vanessa.

Ethan read it, and manufactured urgency swept across his face.

"I have to go."

He was already reaching for his cane.

"What could possibly be that urgent?" I asked. "It's our anniversary. Can't you at least finish dinner?"

It was the first time in five years I had asked him to stay.

It was also the last.

"I really can't. The clinical log isn't matching the implant data." He bent quickly to kiss my forehead. "I'll be back within an hour. Don't let the pianist play our song before I return."

He walked away without looking back once.

I sat there and watched him disappear.

Then I opened the encrypted file my lawyer had extracted from VELA's cloud archive.

The timestamp was exactly three months old.

In the private training suite, Ethan stood between the parallel bars. Vanessa waited a few steps away.

He released the bars.

One step.

Two.

He walked straight into Vanessa's arms.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and laughed.

"You did it," she whispered. "But you promised Claire your first dance."

Ethan lowered his head and wrapped both hands around her waist.

"Claire kept me alive," he said softly. "But every time I look at her, all I see is the wheelchair. With you, I feel like a man who can stand on his own two feet."

He took out his phone and played the original recording of our wedding song.

Then, in that empty training room, he gave Vanessa his first dance.

I locked the screen.

Twenty minutes later, Ethan sent a message.

[Things are more complicated than I thought. I won't make it back tonight. I'm sorry.]

I sent one sentence in reply.

[Understood. Go do what you need to do.]

I left my phone, the divorce agreement, and my wedding ring on the Italian marble table.

Then I picked up the suitcase I had packed hours earlier and walked away.

One hour later, I lay on an operating table at the Hawthorne Neurological Institute.

The monitors were connected. Everything was ready.

"Mrs. Cole," the doctor said softly, "once these memories are removed, they will never return. Are you certain?"

I thought of the dance studio I had sold.

The nights I had spent alone on the bathroom floor.

The white roses Ethan had bought to cover his lies.

"I am."

The anesthetic entered my vein.

I closed my eyes.

"Do it."

Goodbye, Ethan.