Chapter 1: His Perfect Routine

The darkness of Ethan's penthouse wrapped around me like a familiar blanket as I slipped inside before dawn.

I moved silently through the sleek kitchen, my fingers finding switches and appliances with practiced precision.

This was our routine—my service, his indifference—a dance we'd perfected over three years.

I measured the ingredients with scientific accuracy: kale, organic quinoa, spirulina powder, and a precise half-teaspoon of honey.

The blender whirred to life, its mechanical hum the only sound breaking the pre-dawn silence.

Three minutes on high speed, not a second more or less.

Ethan Blackwood's preferences were as rigid as his posture.

While the smoothie settled, I prepared his avocado toast, slicing the tomatoes with surgical precision.

Three slices, perfectly centered, their edges just touching.

Not overlapping.