Chapter 6
Autumn's POV
I practically crawled back home in a delirious haze.
Heatstroke had set in.
I called the house line and his cell over and over, but Ethan never picked up.
On the third attempt, the sounds of a woman's lively laughter drifted through the receiver, followed immediately by the harsh click of him hanging up.
I laid the phone face down beside my pillow, still foolishly making excuses for him: He's busy. He'll call back in a minute.
I only learned later that it was Brenda's birthday. He had rented out an entire private ballroom to throw her an extravagant party.
During the three days I burned with fever, I finally knew whose company had taken up his time.
On the fourth night, he returned, reeking of alcohol.
Stepping into the room, he didn't even notice my flushed, feverish face. Instead, he opened his mouth to interrogate me.
"I told you to come. Why didn't you show up?"
I pushed myself up, my throat feeling as though it were stuffed with hot coals. "I had a fever of a hundred and two. Where were you?"
"It was Brenda's birthday. Everyone who matters in our circle was there," he continued, completely ignoring my words. "Seats were hard to come by. I saved one for you."
He sat on the edge of the mattress, looking down at me as his alcohol-laced breath hit my face.
"All you had to do was shed a few tears in public, and I would've let you take that seat. What do you say?"
I stared at him as if looking at a total stranger.
My tears had run dry the moment his shoe slammed into my stomach.
Now, he was putting a price tag on my crying, offering a seat at a dinner table in exchange.
"You're out of your mind, Ethan."
"Crazy?" He chuckled darkly. "I'm offering you a lifeline. Others would kill for the chance."
He actually dragged me there.
It was an elite social gathering, the private dining room packed with familiar faces.
Still shivering with an unbroken fever, I was shoved into a corner chair.
I recognized almost everyone at the table.
After a while, Ethan spoke up, claiming I was acting childish and that all his years of pampering had spoiled me.
Instantly, the entire room turned their words on me.
"Autumn, Ethan loves you so much. Just apologize to him."
"Brenda is such a sweet woman. Can't you find it in your heart to accept her?"
"You're lucky Ethan has such a good temper. Anyone else would've kicked you to the curb long ago."
I kept my head down, silent. My ears buzzed, their voices sounding muffled as if filtered through water. I clenched my jaw until my teeth ached.
Half the people at this table had raised their glasses at my wedding.
Then Sophia, the woman I once considered my closest friend, reached into my coat pocket and pulled out my old phone.
Saved on that phone was a video clip my parents had recorded for me before they died. I had guarded it fiercely, never showing it to anyone—not even Ethan.
In all the years since they passed, it was the only thing left that held their moving, laughing voices.
"Since you refuse to behave," Sophia said, raising the phone high for the whole room to see, "I'll just delete this for you. Save you the heartbreak of dwelling on the past."
I snapped my head up. "Put it down!"
I lunged forward to snatch it, but it was too late.
Ethan sat at the head of the table, not even lifting an eyelid, and dropped a single cold command.
"Delete it."
Sophia tapped the screen.
Right before my eyes, the video of my parents smiling and saying, *Happy birthday, Autumn,* was wiped clean, frame by frame.
I scrambled forward, only managing to grab the hot, empty device.
On the display, the final frame of my mother's smiling face flickered once before turning pitch black.
I had always thought no one could steal this from me, that keeping it hidden meant it was mine forever.
Tonight, I realized that in this room, whether I was allowed to keep my own memories depended entirely on a single word from the man at the head of the table.
Clutching that dead phone to my chest, I finally broke down, sobbing until I slid off the chair. My vision faded to black, and I passed out cold.