The Crystal Ballroom of the Grand Plaza Hotel glittered like a tomb of diamonds. Crystal chandeliers spilled light over silk gowns and tailored suits.

Everyone who mattered in the city had gathered to celebrate Dillan—the "golden adopted son" of the Clark family.

I stood near the champagne tower, watching the performance.

Dillan stood at center stage, accepting yet another trophy. His smile was humble, practiced.

Beside him stood Eleanor, one hand resting on the faint swell of her belly. She was pregnant with his child.

My father stood with my mother, both of them beaming at Dillan like he was the son they'd always wanted. Then my father's eyes found me—and the warmth died.

His voice cut through the applause. "Look at Dillan. International award. A pregnant wife. A real man. Built something from nothing." His gaze slid to me like a blade. "Unlike you. That little studio of yours—does it even turn a profit? Victoria pays for everything. Your clothes, your car, your life."

Victoria's hand found my arm. "Lambert works incredibly hard, Spencer. It's not about money."

Her defense should have warmed me. Instead, it carved out a hollow ache. She played the devoted wife so perfectly. And I knew now—every sweet word, every gentle touch—was a lie wrapped in silk.

Dillan's award display caught my eye. The centerpiece was Cloud Bridge. A pedestrian bridge of glass and steel, curving like a ribbon through a forest canopy.

It was my design. I'd sketched it one year ago. I'd shown it to Victoria one night, whispering that I wanted to build it for her—a bridge between her world and mine.

She'd smiled. Said it was beautiful. I'd never shown anyone else.

And now Dillan stood beneath it, accepting applause for my hands' work.

Victoria gave it to him, I realized. She gave him everything.

Dillan noticed me staring. He excused himself from a group of admirers and walked over, glass of red wine swirling lazily in his hand.

"Lambert." He smiled. "Enjoying the exhibit?"

"Tell me how you got the concept," I hissed.

He raised an eyebrow. "Which concept?"

My voice was quiet. "That bridge was mine. I never published it. I never showed anyone except—" I stopped.

"Except Victoria?" Dillan finished for me. His smile widened. "She has good taste, doesn't she? She always did."

He stepped closer, lowering his voice so only I could hear. "She said I deserved more than being second in the Clark family. She said she would take care of everything."

My jaw tightened. "Take care of what?"

"Of you." Dillan tilted his head. "She married you to protect me, Lambert. To make sure you never had an heir. Because if you had a child, you might actually matter to the Clarks. And if you mattered, where would that leave me?"

My blood turned to ice water.

"Ironic, isn't it?" Dillan tilted his head. "Eleanor left you for me. Your parents despise you. And the woman who married you?" He laughed softly. "She only married you to protect me."

Then he tipped the glass. Red wine cascaded down his white suit, splattering his face.

"Lambert!" He staggered back, voice rising to a theatrical wail. "Why would you do this? Is it jealousy?"

The ballroom went silent. Then the murmurs began.

"Did you see that? Lambert actually threw wine on Dillan?"

"Oh, Lambert is a loser. He must be jealous of Dillan. Pathetic."

The guests pressed closer. Phones rose to capture the scene. My mother gasped. My father's face turned purple.

Victoria pulled a handkerchief from her purse, the one with embroidered initials she never let me touch, and held it out to Dillan. "Here."

Something inside me snapped.

I grabbed a champagne flute from a passing tray and hurled the contents into Dillan's face.

My father roared, "Get out, you ungrateful bastard!"

"With pleasure." I set down the empty glass. "Goodbye, everyone."

The parking garage swallowed my footsteps. Victoria's heels clicked behind me, sharp and fast.

"What the hell was that?" Her voice shook. "He's done nothing to you! Are you so jealous you can't stand anyone succeeding?"

I turned. "The Cloud Bridge concept. It was in my study. Only you go in there. Even the maids don't."

Panic flickered in her eyes for a moment. Then she forced herself to stay calm. "You think I gave your design to Dillan? That's ridiculous. Dillan's talent speaks for itself."

I didn't argue. What was the point?

"Tomorrow's my birthday," I said, changing the topic. "Come with me to Dragon's Peak. I want to see the sunrise with you. I just need some fresh air."

She hesitated, then nodded.

I smiled at her.

One last sunrise. Then she'd never see me again.

The morning of my birthday, I woke up to an empty bed.

Victoria was already in the kitchen. I could hear her moving around—the clink of plates, the soft hum of her voice.

When I walked into the living room, she was packing a large cooler bag. Sandwiches. Fruit. A thermos of coffee.

She beamed. "I checked the weather. Sunset should be beautiful."

I watched her. She looked happy. Almost excited.

"You packed a lot," I said.

"It's a special day—your birthday, after all." She glanced back with a smile. "We should celebrate."

But as I watched her zip up the cooler bag, a wave of sadness hit me. Hard.

This was the last birthday she would ever spend with me.

She didn't know that. To her, this was just another day.

I looked at the food she had packed—my favorite snacks, the ones I never told her I liked. She had noticed anyway. That was the cruelest part. She paid attention to every detail about me, made me feel like I was her everything. But the truth? I wasn't.

After lunch, we drove for an hour. The city faded behind us. Hills turned into mountains. The sky was clear and blue.

At three o'clock, we reached the base of Dragon's Peak. The trail wound upward through pine trees and rocky outcrops. From the top, you could see the entire coastline. The ocean stretched out like a blue blanket, cold and endless.

"We should start climbing now if we want to make it before sunset," Victoria said, stepping out of the car.

I grabbed my backpack from the back seat.

Then her phone rang.

I saw the name on the screen before she did. Dillan.

My stomach dropped.

Victoria glanced at the phone, then at me. "I need to take this," she said. "It's work."

She pressed the phone to her ear and walked a few steps away. But she didn't hold it tight enough. I heard Dillan's voice—that familiar, easy tone that made Victoria's eyes soften. "Victoria? Can you come? I really need you."

I couldn't hear the rest. She moved further away, her back turned to me.

I stood by the car and waited.

When she came back, her face was apologetic.

"Lambert…" She tucked her phone into her pocket. "Something came up at the company. Urgent. I need to go handle it."

I said nothing.

"You go ahead and start climbing," she continued, her voice soft and soothing. The voice she used when she was lying. "I'll catch up. I promise. We'll watch the sunset together."

Before I could reply, she turned to leave. Her car keys were already in her hand.

"Victoria," I called out.

She stopped and looked back at me.

I murmured, "It's my birthday today. Please stay with me."

The words came out quieter than I intended. I wasn't trying to guilt her. I was just… giving her one last reason to stay.

She hesitated. I saw it—that flicker of conflict in her eyes. For one heartbeat, I thought she might actually stay.

Then her phone buzzed again. She looked down at the screen. Her face changed and went tight with worry.

"Lambert, I'm so sorry." She was already walking backward toward the driver's door. "I really can't. I'll finish as fast as I can. I'll be back before sunset. I promise."

She got into the car. The engine started. She rolled down the window and gave me one last apologetic smile.

Then she drove away.

I let out a bitter smile and climbed the mountain alone.

The trail was steeper than I remembered. My legs burned. My chest ached. But the worst pain was inside—a hollow, scraping emptiness that no amount of exercise could burn away.

I reached the top just as the sun began to lower toward the horizon.

The view was beautiful. The ocean sparkled gold and orange. The sky turned pink at the edges. Everything looked peaceful. Quiet.

I sat on a flat rock and waited.

The sun dipped lower. The gold turned to red. The red faded to purple. Then gray.

Still no Victoria.

I pulled out my phone and called her. No answer.

I called again. No answer.

The stars came out. The wind picked up. I wrapped my arms around myself and felt a wave of sadness wash over me.

At midnight, I tried one more time.

The phone rang. Once. Twice. Three times.

Then someone answered. But it wasn't Victoria.

"Hello? Lambert?"

There was no mistaking it—that was Dillan's voice.

My hand tightened around the phone. The cold wind bit through my jacket. But I didn't feel any of it.

"Dillan," I said. "Where's Victoria?"

"She's resting. She fell asleep here." He paused. "I had a fever today. Pretty bad. Eleanor is pregnant, so she couldn't come take care of me. Victoria was kind enough to stay with me at the hospital. Helped me through the IV drip. Don't overthink it, okay?"

I almost laughed.

She left me on my birthday. Left me alone on a mountain. Missed our last sunset together. All to stay with another man.

"Kind of her," I said. My voice came out flat.

"Yeah, she's really something." Dillan's voice was grateful. "Anyway, she's fine. I'll make sure she gets home safe."

"Good for you."

"Lambert… you're not upset, are you? It was just an emergency."

I sneered. "No. I'm not upset."

"Great. Get some sleep, man."

With that, he hung up.

I stared at the dark screen. Then I opened Twitter.

And there it was. Dillan's latest post, timestamped ten minutes ago.

"Having you here makes everything better."

Accompanying it was a photo—of a hospital bed.

I threw the phone against the rocks. It shattered. Pieces of glass and plastic scattered into the darkness.

I stood at the edge of the cliff, lost in thought.

Victoria had packed me a picnic and driven me to a mountain. And then she had left. Because someone else needed her more.

I thought about everything we’d shared—her concern, her kindness. Still, I knew I was not the person she cared for most.

A tear rolled down my cheek. Then another. The wind dried them before they could fall.

I took one last look at the stars. One last breath of cold mountain air.

The ocean crashed against the rocks far below. The sound was loud and cold.

Then I jumped off the edge.

The next morning, Victoria walked through the front door of our house. She was holding a small cake.

"Lambert?" She looked around the empty living room. "I'm back. I know I'm late. I'm so sorry. I brought cake. We can still celebrate."

Her assistant came running down the hallway, out of breath. "Mrs. Clark…" The young woman's voice shook. "Your husband… he jumped off Dragon's Peak last night. Into the sea."

The cake slipped from Victoria's fingers. It hit the floor with a soft thud.

She cried out in disbelief, "What did you just say?!"