Betrayal's Bitter Taste

presence. It wasn't just metal, it was validation. First place at the International "Le Cordon Bleu" Grand Prix, a competition he'd dreamed of since he was a kid d

agined her face when he walked in, not just with the trophy, but with the Sterling Corporation contract tucked safely in his briefcase. It

ost in a wave of noise. The place was packed, buzzing with a celebratory energy he didn

it all to one person," Olivia's voice rang out, amplified by a microphone. "The one who saw my potential from the very beginning, who guided me, who believed in me when no one else did. He is the true heart and soul of this kitch

ght there on the stage. The applause grew louder. No one noticed Ethan standing by the door, his world tilti

, replaced by a cool, almost annoyed expression. She stepped down, Mark's arm possessively around her waist. "Ethan," she said, her voice flat. "You're back. This isn't a good time."

stage. Olivia rolled her eyes. "Don't be so dramatic. Mark has been the real creative force here for years, we both know that. Your

e air leave his lungs. He opened his briefcase, his hands shaking slightly, and pulled out the thick folder. "A real business?" he repeated, his

d at the contract, then looked at Mark. They exchanged a look, and then they both started to laugh. It wasn't a nic

t big. Mark and I will have to clean up your mess, as usual." The casual cruelty of her words finally broke something inside him. H

ipping sound was shockingly loud in the sudden silence that fell around them. He didn't stop there. He tore the halves into quarters, then into eighths, letting the small white pieces flutt

lled out his phone, his fingers fumbling with the screen. He scrolled to a number he hadn't called in three years. It rang twice before a deep voice