Five years had passed. I ran into my former fianc└e, Vivienne Holt, again at the awards ceremony for the Paralympic Games. When I reached out to accept the trophy, she stared at my six missing fingers, her voice edged with panic. “Ethan ！ what happened to you?” She couldn’t have imagined it. The legendary NYU hockey champion, the man who had once ruled every rink in the city, now couldn’t even claim a complete body. “You were released early ！ why didn’t you call me? Why didn’t come home?” Her assistant stepped forward, bristling with indignation. “The day you walked out of Rikers, Ms. Holt stood at the prison gates in her wedding dress and waited for you all morning. The whole city knew how much she loved you. And yet you’ve been hiding in this nowhere town, letting her look like a fool!” Hearing those words, I felt nothing but contempt. She couldn’t live without me? If it weren’t for her, I would never have been forced into that marriage with that Mafia lunatic ！ then my fingers cut off, my legs taken, my face carved up, my kidney harvested. I would never have been framed for murder, never spent five years rotting in a cell for a crime I didn’t commit. But, for revenge, I didn’t mind dancing with the lunatic again, as long as I could drag them all down to hell.
Vivienne finally tore her gaze away from my scarred and ruined face, her voice sharpening with anger. “No matter how angry you are, you can’t just vanish like this. Whatever misunderstanding there is between us, we can talk it through.” She snatched away my crutch in frustration, then bent down to help me up. But without the support, I pitched forward and crashed hard to the ground. The stumps where my legs had been were already raw and swollen from weeks of intense training. The impact sent white-hot agony straight through me. The color drained from my face. Vivienne stared at the empty, folded fabric of my trouser legs. She stood there, rooted, helpless. “Your legs ！ where are your legs?” Just then, a man walked in leading a boy of about five or six years old. Looking at a face that was once my own, it took me a long moment to recognize him� Connor Ashby. Vivian arranged surgery to give Connor my facial features, and I with his face, my fate was changed to a darker version. He glanced at Vivienne. “Vivienne has been turning this whole city inside out looking for you.” The little boy broke away and ran to Vivienne. “Mommy! I missed you!” Vivienne lifted him naturally into her arms. “Mommy missed you too, baby.” I looked coldly at Vivienne, but directed my words at Connor. “She’s been so busy hunting for me ！ still found time to have a child with you?” Vivienne’s expression stiffened. I didn’t look at her. I braced my crutch to stand. Seeing my struggle, she set the boy down and moved toward me. “Let me help you up.” I swept her hand away with my crutch. “Get away from me.” Vivienne’s face darkened. “Do you want your parents to see you like this too?” I hauled myself upright. Connor picked up the boy and came closer. “Say hi to your Uncle Ethan.” “Ethan, take the mask off. Let us see your face.” Before I could stop them, my ruined face was exposed for all to see. “Mommy ！ a monster! I’m scared!” The boy buried himself in Connor’s arms, wailing, screaming that he wanted to go home. My mother rounded on me. “Cover that face of yours right now!” My father hurled a stack of banknotes at me. “Take it. Get some plastic surgery. Stop frightening my grandson.” “Refusing to come home, showing up at this pathetic little sideshow ！ you’re trying to humiliate us, aren’t you? If Connor hadn’t told us you were here, God knows how much shame you’d have put us through.” The crisp edges of the fresh checks sliced across my scars. Tiny threads of blood welled up and fell. My knuckles, trembling and bloodless, betrayed the fury I was fighting to keep buried. I bowed to them. Smiled. Thanked them. “Thank you. You’re both very generous people. May you live long, healthy lives.” My father heard the venom beneath my words ！ heard, too, that I hadn’t called them Mom or Dad ！ and ground his teeth together in rage, cursing me as an ungrateful son. My mother told me to watch myself, then left with Connor and the boy. I lowered myself on my crutch and began gathering the scattered checks from the floor. Vivienne seemed unable to watch. She pressed her hand over mine. “What happened back then ！ I owe you for that.” “I’ll marry you, Ethan. I’ll take care of you for the rest of your life.” The hand gathering checks went still. Behind my eyes, hatred surged like a tide. “All right,” I said. “Give me time to finish what I’ve started.” Vivienne wanted to come back with me to my place and help me pack. Just then, Connor called her. “Vivienne, the boy’s been crying. He won’t stop asking for you.” I gave a cold laugh. “Go.” “I don’t have legs anymore. Where am I going to run?” Vivienne left her number and told me to call whenever I needed anything. The moment she was gone, I blocked her contact, called uber, and left. I reached out to a man I’d done time with, and moved into the room he was renting. Only when I heard no trace of Vivienne searching for me did I finally begin to breathe.
I worked from a corner of a farmers’ market. I was just starting to think about renting a proper room and settling in when Vivienne found me. “Come on,” she said softly. “Come home with me.” When I refused, she turned to the vendors and shoppers around us, appealing to them for help. “Please ！ talk some sense into him.” “I genuinely want to marry him. I want to spend my life taking care of him.” Everyone in the market had already noticed the Rolls-Royce she’d arrived in. They pressed in from all sides. “You’ve got a beautiful, wealthy woman like this wanting you ！ and you’re still out here as a labor?” “She’s not bothered by your face, she’s not bothered by the missing fingers or the legs ！ what are you throwing a tantrum about?” “Stop being difficult. Go home with her!” I was furious, but I refused to show it. I made an excuse ！ said I needed to say goodbye to my former cellmate ！ and slipped away under his cover. This time I traveled for five days before reaching a small city two thousand miles south. With missing fingers and no legs, it took genuine effort to land even a menial job at a butcher stall. But I didn’t have time to feel relieved. Vivienne found me again. “Ethan, you can’t run from me forever!” The butcher, dripping with sarcasm, chimed in: “You’ve got a woman that rich willing to marry you and look after you ！ what are you doing out here punishing yourself? Go live the good life!” I looked at Vivienne with contempt. “Good life?” The exhaustion of days of running and the hatred coiled deep inside me finally overwhelmed my self-control. “Vivienne ！ why won’t you leave me alone?” “You’ve already turned me into something less than human. Can’t you at least let me go?” Vivienne’s face fell, her eyes genuinely confused. “Marrying you is what you need most right now. And it’s a promise I made to you. I’m trying to help you.” I laughed bitterly. “Help me? The way you helped me lose my fingers, my legs, and five years of my life?” “It was Connor who got tangled up with that lunatic woman. But you killed our child, manipulated the surgery so I’d end up with his face, shipped me off to her ！ and she hacked off my fingers, dismembered my legs. I served five years in prison for the two of you.” “Did you sleep well, these five years? Any nightmares?” Vivienne sighed, her face drawn with what looked like genuine pain. “What’s done is done. Tearing it all open again won’t fix anything.” “I told you ！ I’ll marry you.” I looked at her coldly. “And what does that make Connor? What does that make your son?” Something flickered ！ guilt ！ in her eyes. “What happened with Connor and the boy was an accident.” “As for Connor, I’ll compensate him another way.” Looking at the certainty in her expression, I asked, in a voice like ice: “Your way of compensating ！ is it me on odd days, him on even days?” The guilt in her eyes confirmed it. I’d guessed right. Revulsion rose in my throat. “Vivienne ！ keep dreaming.” Vivienne’s patience finally ran out. Her voice cracked like a whip. “Ethan Grayson, a marriage certificate is the greatest dignity I can offer you.” “I don’t want your dignity,” I said flatly. “Give it to him.” “I just want the two of you as far from me as possible.” I moved to leave. Vivienne’s warning came from behind me. “Ethan ！ keep pushing me, and your old cellmates may find their peaceful lives coming to a rather abrupt end.” I stopped. I turned back, jaw set. “Vivienne ！ you make me physically sick.”
It had taken me five days to reach that small town. The flight home took five hours. I arrived at the house just in time for the welcome-home party my parents had apparently organized in my honor. Connor stood in the middle of it all in a perfectly tailored suit, looking every bit the groom ！ every bit the man of the house. My father gave a contemptuous grunt. “So the prodigal son deigns to return.” My mother sighed. “At least the boy has no blood connection to you. Otherwise, even his career prospects would be ruined.” “Step over the fire pit before you come in. Don’t bring your bad luck and misfortune into this house.” The neighbors and relatives, seeing me with my mask and my crutch, whispered to one another: “Why did they even bother bringing him back? Isn’t there enough shame already?” “I heard that while he was with Vivienne, he was sleeping with some Mafia woman on the side. Had surgery to look like the woman¨s first love, even pressured Vivienne into terminating their baby.” “If you ask me, having his fingers cut off, his legs taken, his face carved up, his kidney harvested, and five years in prison ！ he brought every bit of it on himself.” Connor stepped in and cut the neighbor off. “Ethan made serious mistakes, but he’s served five years. Not every dog is beyond redemption. We believe Ethan won’t make the same mistakes twice.” I watched this kangaroo court, tailor-made for me, and felt nothing but cold, nauseating contempt. Then Connor carried over a fire pit. He added fresh charcoal to it. “The bigger the fire, the brighter the future.” The new coals popped and spat sparks. You could feel the heat from ten feet away. He gave me a challenging look, a mean little smile. “Step over it. Start your life over.” Before I could react, he grabbed me and dragged me toward it. Then someone shoved me hard in the small of my back. I had no balance. I pitched straight forward. I managed to knock the pit aside, but the tipping coals scattered across my body and ignited my synthetic clothing. “Help ！ please！” I screamed, but no one moved to help. In the end, it was Vivienne who tore the burning fabric from me. Connor followed with a bucket of cold water poured over my head. The mask came off. Hair matted, clothes destroyed, knife scars crossing every inch of my back. The crowd recoiled, breath hissing through teeth, from the wreckage of my face. My father pointed at my half-naked body and swore at me. “How long are you going to keep humiliating this family? Get back to your room!” Connor, seeing Vivienne move to go find me fresh clothes, flashed me a cold smile. He reached into the dog kennel, pulled out the blanket from under the old retriever, and draped it over me. “Use this to cover yourself for now.” I tried to pull free. Connor held me down, hard. I smiled. Let go of the struggle. This whole spectacle had been designed for me. All they wanted was to see me broken enough. Only when I’d been broken enough would they finally leave me alone. I looked at Vivienne. “Satisfied?” Vivienne glanced at Connor, something flickering in her eyes. “A dog blanket is better than being completely exposed.” Connor’s eyes lit with quiet triumph. He made a show of offering to help me up. I shook him off. “Keep your filthy hands off me.” Without looking at my parents’ curses or the neighbors’ stares, I hauled myself on my crutch toward the house. Connor’s voice drifted after me: “Mom and Dad said the good rooms will be tainted by your bad luck. You’re in the attic.” I made the slow, agonizing climb up the stairs. When the door closed behind me, my eyes burned against my will. I pulled away the dog blanket. In the mirror: a body mapped in scars, and fresh burn blisters rising in patches across my skin. These wounds ！ some from the Mafia woman’s knife, some from prison ！ cut deep enough to show bone. I hadn’t forgotten a single one. I was waiting for the right moment to return every last one of them. That night, Vivienne knocked on my door. I didn’t open it. Sometime after midnight, sounds drifted up from the balcony below: “You bastard ！ you said tonight was our wedding night.” “It is. Did you like what I wore today?” “I loved it. The moment I saw you, I wanted you to！” What followed were the low, intimate sounds of a man and a woman. Only then did I understand. The red balloons plastered across every room and across the yard ！ they weren’t for my homecoming. They were for a wedding. Theirs.
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