One month later.
Crownpor Neon Square.
The massive electronic screen of the Meridian Exchange cycled through congratulatory posters celebrating Vance Tech's IPO.
Ethan's portrait filled the display.
He looked confident and sharp, the newest darling of Gilded Row.
That evening, he hosted a celebration gala at the Crownport Grand Ballroom in Crownport Central.
The hall glittered in gold and crystal.
Massive chandeliers cast a warm glow over towering champagne towers.
Elites from Gilded Row, socialites, and media reporters crowded the room.
Ethan stood at the center of it all.
He wore a black tuxedo, his hair impeccably styled.
A faint flush colored his face, which under the lights could easily be mistaken for excitement.
Bella was looped through his arm.
She wore a white couture gown with a sweeping train, like a proud swan.
The 3 million dollar pink diamond glittered on her finger.
I walked in.
Security stopped me at the entrance.
I took an invitation from my bag. It was the reserved pass issued to a former board member.
I no longer held shares, but the title still lingered on paper.
They checked it and let me through.
I wore a simple black gown, no jewelry.
Amid the glittering wealth, I looked out of place.
I didn't care.
I picked up a glass of red wine and stood in the shadows.
Ethan was laughing with a group of investors.
His laughter was loud, his gestures exaggerated.
The euphoria wasn't natural.
I knew it was the false high caused by rising intracranial pressure.
He turned and saw me.
His smile froze for a split second, then widened theatrically.
He said something to the people beside him, lifted his champagne, and walked toward me with Bella on his arm.
Eyes followed him across the room.
The spotlight seemed to belong to him.
Tonight, he was king.
"Well, if it isn't my ex-wife."
Ethan stopped in front of me, his voice deliberately loud enough to silence nearby conversations.
He looked me up and down with open disdain.
"I heard you're still alive. That illness is really dragging things out, isn't it?"
A ripple of laughter spread through the crowd.
Bella covered her mouth and leaned into Ethan's shoulder with a sugary giggle.
"Ethan, don't be mean," she said in a mock sympathetic tone. "Chloe's pitiful enough. She's practically on her way out and still showing up to steal attention. What a jinx."
"Exactly." Ethan swirled his glass. "Chloe, if you're here for money, I can write you a check. The company went public today. I'm in a good mood. A little charity seems appropriate."
He was beside himself with triumph.
All the humiliation I had endured reached its peak in that moment.
I looked at him.
At the veins bulging across his forehead.
At his bloodshot eyes, flushed with manic excitement.
"Ethan," I said calmly, "your nose."
Ethan blinked.
"What?"
He raised a hand and touched his nose.
His fingers came away bright red.
He frowned, confused.
"What the…"
He never finished the sentence.
A rush of warm liquid burst from his nostrils.
Not a drip. Not a thin line.
It sprayed.
Bella stood closest.
Before she could react, her expensive white gown was splattered with a vivid wash of red.
"Ah!" Bella screamed and shoved Ethan away in terror.
His body stiffened abruptly.
The champagne glass slipped from his hand.
It shattered against the floor.
He tried to clamp a hand over his nose, but the bleeding wouldn't stop.
His eyes began to lose focus.
"My head…" he mumbled.
The next second, he collapsed backward like a puppet with its strings cut.
His body hit the floor with a dull thud.
On the floor, his body began to convulse violently. Foam gathered at the corner of his mouth. His eyes rolled back.
A textbook seizure.
Late-stage GBM, the tumor compressing neural pathways.
"Ethan! Ethan!"
"Call an ambulance! Now!"
The room dissolved into chaos.
Screams, shouts, and the crash of overturned glasses collided in the air.
The ones who had mocked me just moments ago were now backing away in fear, as if I were something contagious.
The reporters' instincts kicked in. Cameras went up.
Flashes exploded relentlessly.
They captured the newest darling of the Meridian Exchange at the height of his success, reduced to something raw and grotesque.
Bella collapsed onto the floor, staring at the blood covering her, trembling as she scrambled away from Ethan.
Only I remained still.
I stood where I was. I did not move.
