Chapter 3

When I woke up, sunlight flooded the floorboards.

The apartment was dead quiet. Right by the entryway mat, I spotted two used strawberry-flavored condom wrappers discarded next to drying puddles of water.

I tightened my jaw, pocketed my personal documents, and walked out the door.

I was here to finalize my departure from this world.

Holding the medical certification from the hospital, I went to the federal registry office to formally freeze and archive my legal identity.

The clerk behind the counter stared at my paperwork for a long time, an unreadable mix of pity and awe in her eyes.

I watched the heavy metal seal press down onto the official documents, and a strange wave of pure relief washed over me.

From this moment on, Austin Miller ceased to exist in any public system.

Leaving the registry, I drove to the local charity foundation headquarters.

Keeping only a bare minimum to cover my final expenses, I transferred my entire remaining balance—tens of millions of dollars—into their humanitarian endowment fund.

The foundation president clasped my hand with deep gratitude, his eyes glistening.

An eight-figure bank account had vanished, distilled into a single, crisp donation receipt.

I walked back out to the parking lot and looked at the brand-new Rolls-Royce parked in the bay.

It was a parting gift from an overseas business partner who had insisted on buying it for me when he heard I was returning stateside.

As I stood by the door, pondering how to get rid of the vehicle, a voice called out behind me.

"Austin? Well, look at that. It really is you."

I turned to see Derek dressed in a sharp black bespoke suit, his hair slicked back without a strand out of place.

Behind him, Linda held the baby, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with my parents.

The moment her gaze met mine, her brows knit into a hard scowl. "Austin, are you seriously stalking us? We just came out to get family portraits taken. How petty can you get?"

So that was why they were dressed to the nines. A formal family portrait.

And I, the supposed pillar of this household, was completely kept in the dark.

Derek twirled his Mercedes key fob on his finger, his eyes roaming over the gleaming Rolls-Royce beside me.

A mocking snort escaped his lips.

"Austin, I heard you were bowing and scraping for scraps overseas, but I never got around to asking what your actual job was. Turns out you're just a private chauffeur?"

"No wonder you hid out abroad for three years and didn't dare come back. If people back home caught you driving other folks around like a servant, Aunt and Uncle would die of embarrassment!"

Chuckling, Derek stepped forward and slung a heavy arm over my shoulder with fake generosity.

"How much can a driver really make? Tell you what, come work at my company.”

“I can pull some strings and get you a spot on the corporate security team. At least that way, you can sleep in your own bed every night."

I sneered and shoved his arm off me.

Sleep in my own bed?

So I could lie awake and listen to him screwing my wife through the wall?

Before I could speak, Linda rolled her eyes and cut in, her tone dripping with venom.

"Derek is trying to help you, and you give him that attitude? Talk about biting the hand that feeds you. Derek, don't waste your breath on him."

"If I knew you were just driving limos for rich folks, I would’ve told you to stay out of the country and stop humiliating us!"

My father let out a heavy, theatrical sigh, shaking his head with bitter disgust.

"An utter disgrace to our family name!"

They had conveniently forgotten that three years ago, I didn't want to leave in the first place.

I had just married Linda, and my father’s asthma was getting worse. I was terrified that leaving the country would mean neglecting my responsibilities at home.

It was Linda who pushed me out the door, sweet-talking me into believing it was a once-in-a-lifetime career springboard—promising that even if I started at the bottom carrying bags, I’d come home a made man.

And the second I turned my back, she traded me in for a taste of the easy life, kicking me straight into the gutter.

Derek’s smirk widened, yet he kept up the gracious act, casually gesturing toward the photo studio.

"Well, you are the kid’s half-father, technically. It might look weird in the future if he looks at the family album and doesn’t see you anywhere."

Before I could answer, Linda tugged Derek's arm in disgust.

"Look at the way he's dressed! He’d ruin the entire shoot! It’d be an embarrassment for our son to see this bum in the frame years from now!"

"Come on, let's get the shoot done. We still have lunch reservations."

My parents cast one last disappointed glare in my direction, then turned and followed the happy couple inside the studio.

I stood completely still, watching their backs vanish behind the glass doors.

A quiet calm settled over me.

This was fine.

An unwanted outsider like me had somewhere else to be.