Chapter 3Broken Man's Billionaire Revenge

Damon Royce looked at me, malice shining in his eyes. I didn't care about his reasons, or Seraphina’s. I just felt a sickening mix of pain and nausea.

He was clearly enjoying my humiliation. “This whole thing was a bet, Ethan. A script. I gave Sera the outline, and she just followed the directions.”

I met Seraphina on a rainy night. I had been searching for jobs, hitting dead end after dead end. Despair was a heavy cloak, soaking me to the bone. I had no umbrella, no cab fare, nothing.

Then, she appeared. She held a black umbrella over me. Her eyes were impossibly gentle. “Even if you’re a man,” she said, her voice soft, “you shouldn’t stand out here in the rain. It’s bad for your health.”

I was a fool. I reached out and took her hand.

I thought she was my salvation. I didn’t know she was the person who would push me into a deeper, colder abyss.

Damon looked down at me, utterly superior. “You fell in love right on schedule, just like my script predicted. Honestly, did you really think someone like Sera would ever be within your reach?”

“The blind eye. The broken leg. All orchestrated by me. You see, my social standing is leagues above yours. With one word, I can turn any story into reality.”

His words were the opening of Pandora's Box—a nightmare unfolding in real time.

When Sera and I married, I planned out our future: saving money, a good education for Leo, a stable, happy life.

But then, at thirty-five, my company fired me, citing my age. Not enough hustle, not enough hunger.

In the same week, Sera supposedly fell and broke her leg on the way to a tutoring job. Leo, playing with a friend, shattered a shop window and the glass sliced his eye.

The happy family disintegrated. I was the only healthy one left.

To pay for their treatments, I begged, borrowed, and groveled. I knelt and pleaded, giving up every last shred of my pride.

The debts were crushing, forcing me to take on an endless cycle of grueling shifts—washing dishes, waiting tables, stacking shelves. I fought tooth and nail for the extra gig, just another way to trade my time and body for cash.

I never complained. I only cared that my wife and son were safe and whole.

My hard work, my sacrifice—it was all a punchline. I wasn't their rescuer. I was their entertainment. I was walking the path they had drawn for me.

Damon’s final blow was delivered with a casual, easygoing smile. “You getting fired? Yeah, that was me too. Funny, right? Your company’s CEO just happened to be an old acquaintance of mine.”

His words, spoken with such gentle cruelty, were sharp knives slicing through my spinal cord. I couldn't breathe.

I looked up, tears blurring the edges of his smug face. Damon Royce reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a pristine tissue, and gently dabbed my cheek.

“Why the tears, Ethan? You pride yourself on being so strong. And I’m not done with you yet.”

I had a hard childhood. My parents favored my younger brother, treating me like a servant. I fought for everything I had.

Meeting Sera, I thought I was finally building the life I deserved. I wanted to give my son a life overflowing with love, free from the suffering I knew. I wanted Sera and Leo to never feel poor, to never be looked down upon. I didn’t want them to be miserable wretches like me.

Instead, I was the biggest joke of all, still drowning in the same old mud. My supposed light was just a deeper form of darkness.

I took a deep, shuddering breath. Thirty-six years of accumulated humiliation and anger exploded in my chest. I didn't care about the consequences. I didn't care what I was facing. I just wanted to reclaim one ounce of dignity.

Why should I be the idiot, the plaything? I am a person, too!

I looked at Damon, my eyes blazing with pure rage. He started clapping, a delighted laugh bubbling from him. “That’s it! The anger! I love it! But Ethan, what good is your anger now?”

My voice was a low growl. “You’re right. Anger doesn't help me. But what if—”

I launched myself at him.

You rely on your face, don't you?

Damon’s panicked scream was instant.

My fist found its target.

“My face! My face! Get off me! You despicable brute!”

I didn’t care what he said. He had orchestrated the destruction of my life. He had to pay.