Chapter 3: Shattered Illusions

The sound of shattering porcelain echoed through the room, a stark contrast to the heavy silence that had fallen over the live stream. I felt a pang of grief as I watched the shards of my father's vase scatter across the floor, each piece a reminder of the life I had lost.

"Stop!" I roared, my voice hoarse with emotion. "That vase was priceless! You have no right—"

"Priceless?" Ethan scoffed, his face twisted with contempt. "Everything in this place is bought with my girlfriend's money. You're just a leech, living off her generosity."

I gritted my teeth, the injustice of his words burning like acid in my throat. "This was my home, my life, before you came into the picture. Sophie and I have a history that you know nothing about."

Ethan's eyes narrowed, and for a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of doubt in his eyes. But it was quickly replaced by anger. "History or not, she's with me now. And you're just a criminal who can't let go."

The streamers, sensing the tension, turned their cameras on us, their faces alight with excitement. "Look at the ex-con trying to justify his actions," one of them said, her voice dripping with scorn.

"He's a user, through and through," another added, her eyes gleaming with malice.

I turned to them, my hands clenched into fists at my sides. "You have no idea what you're talking about. You're just here for the spectacle, the chance to feel superior."

The host who had snatched my phone let out a harsh laugh. "We're here to expose scum like you. The world needs to see what happens to people who think they can get away with anything."

I shook my head, my heart heavy with the weight of their ignorance. "You're not exposing anything but your own prejudices. You don't know me, and you don't know Sophie."

"Enough talk," Ethan growled, his patience clearly at an end. He gestured to the musclemen holding me down. "Let's teach this guy a lesson he won't forget."

I felt the pressure of their hands on my arms, their fingers digging into my skin. I struggled against them, but they were too strong. I could feel the bile rising in my throat, the helplessness of my situation threatening to overwhelm me.

But I refused to give in. I had faced worse in prison, and I had survived. I would survive this too.

As the streamers continued their rampage, I focused on my breathing, on the steady rhythm that was my only anchor in the chaos. I could hear the crashes, the shattering of glass, the tearing of fabric, but I kept my gaze fixed on the far wall, on the single photograph that remained untouched.

It was a picture of Sophie and me, taken on our wedding day. We were young and full of hope, our smiles bright and carefree. I could see the love in her eyes, the promise of a future that we had both believed in.

Now, as I looked at that picture, I felt a pang of loss so sharp it took my breath away. What had happened to us? How had we gone from that day to this?

The streamers, their energy fueled by the destruction, didn't notice my moment of reflection. They were too caught up in their performance, their need for validation from the viewers who were egging them on.

But I saw the truth in their eyes, the desperation that drove them. They were as trapped in their own way as I was in mine, bound by the expectations of others, by the need to be seen and heard.

As the live stream continued, the comments rolled in, a relentless tide of hatred and judgment. But I tuned them out, focusing instead on the steady beat of my heart, the silent promise that I would find a way out of this mess.

And then, just as suddenly as it had started, the chaos began to subside. The streamers, their energy spent, began to pack up their equipment, their excitement replaced by a satisfied weariness.

Ethan, his face flushed with victory, turned to me, his eyes hard. "This is just the beginning," he spat. "You'll pay for what you've done."

I met his gaze, my own eyes filled with determination. "We'll see about that."

As they left, the room fell into a heavy silence, the only sound the distant echo of their laughter. I lay there, my body aching, my heart heavier than it had ever been.

But even as I struggled to my feet, I knew that this wasn't the end. It was just the beginning of a fight that I was determined to win.