Fated to Misfortune

1
In my last life, at my own birthday party, my wife Seraphinas best friend, Caleb, cornered me with a smirk and a glass of champagne.
Hey, Ash, hed said, his voice dripping with condescension. Sera had a little too much to drink last night. I was the one who gave her a bath. Dont take it personally.
I exploded. The fight that followed ended with me screaming for a divorce. To escape the nauseating pair, I agreed to walk away with nothing.
I died alone in a dingy rental, succumbing to a sudden illness with no one by my side.
After my death, Seraphinas company went public. Her wedding to Caleb was the event of the season, a sensation that captivated the entire city. Everyone called them a match made in heaven. When my name came up, it was only with a dismissive sigh: That man he just wasnt meant for good fortune.
I opened my eyes. I was back at my birthday party.
Caleb was walking toward me again, the same taunt ready on his lips.
This time, I didnt get angry. I smiled.
I reached for my best friend, Maya, who had come with me, and linked my arm through hers intimately. As Seraphina and Caleb watched in stunned silence, Maya turned to my wife, whose face had gone rigid, and gave her an innocent blink.
Oh, dont be jealous, Sera. Ash and I go way back.
Her voice was light, playful, but carried a razors edge. After all I was his first.
The entire hall fell silent.
Seraphinas face was a canvas of fury, shifting from deathly pale to a mottled, ugly purple, finally settling on a shade so dark it seemed to bleed into the shadows.
In that single moment, I felt the foundation of a decade of love crumble into dust.
Her knuckles were white where she gripped her wine glass, the veins on the back of her hand standing out like cords. Her composure had shattered.
Calebs smug expression froze, his face a patchwork of red and white. Mayas casual remark had utterly demolished his pride. The whispers of the surrounding guests buzzed like a swarm of angry hornets.
I kept my arm linked with Mayas, a perfectly measured smile on my face.
Happy birthday, Sera.
I raised my glass to her in a mock toast, then downed it in one go.
Seraphina didnt move. Her eyes were daggers, promising a slow and painful death.
I set my glass down and, taking Maya with me, turned to leave.
Asher!
The name was forced through her clenched teeth, each syllable burning with rage.
I didnt stop.
A powerful hand seized my arm, yanking me back so hard that pain shot through my wrist.
Have you made enough of a scene? she hissed, her voice low and laced with a chilling frost.
I looked up at the face I had loved for ten years, a face so familiar it felt etched into my very soul. Now, it was twisted with nothing but fury and impatience.
Let go, I said.
Come home with me. Stop embarrassing us here.
She tried to drag me toward the exit.
Maya stepped between us in a fluid motion. Her hand shot out, grabbing Seraphinas wrist. With a deceptively casual twist, she broke the hold.
Seraphina yelped in pain and released me.
He doesnt want to go with you, Ms. Sterling, Maya said, her playful smile back in place, but her eyes were chips of ice.
Seraphina shook her hand free and smoothed the wrinkled cuff of her blazer. She looked at me, her gaze overflowing with cold disappointment.
Asher, I thought you knew your place.
Are you really going to let this outsider come between us?
I stared at her.
An outsider?
My gaze drifted past her to where Caleb stood, watching me with the smug look of a victor.
Seraphina, I said, my voice perfectly calm. Lets get a divorce.
The air crackled and went still.
She let out a short, sharp laugh, as if Id just told the worlds most ridiculous joke. A divorce? Asher, how many times have you used that threat? Im telling you, dont push your luck. You want a divorce? Fine. You walk away with nothing. Do you have the guts for that?
She was certain I didnt.
She was sure that the man she supported, the man who lived in her shadow, couldnt possibly survive without her.
In my last life, she was right. I had begged her to stay, and my tears only earned me deeper humiliation.
But now
Fine, I said, looking her straight in the eye, the two words clear and sharp.
The sneer on her face froze. She stared at me, her eyes wide with disbelief, as if trying to process what shed just heard.
I didnt give her another chance.
Maya, lets go.
I turned my back on her. This time, she didnt stop me. I could feel her searing gaze burning into my back until Maya and I disappeared through the ballroom doors.
In the car, Maya broke the silence.
Are you sure about this?
Yeah.
She wont let you go easily.
I watched the city lights streak past the window, blurring into long ribbons of color. I know.
Back at the penthouse I shared with Seraphina, I didnt waste a second. I started packing.
I didnt have much. A few sets of clothes, some professional books, and a few heirlooms my father had left me.
Just as I was placing a locked rosewood box into my suitcase, the bedroom door opened.
Caleb was leaning against the frame, his arms crossed. He was wearing one of Seraphinas silk robes, the front open to reveal his chest. He looked every bit the man of the house.
Packing so late, Ash? His eyes fell on my suitcase, his contempt unconcealed. Sera sent me to check on you. She was worried you might do something stupid.
I ignored him and zipped the suitcase shut.
He sauntered into the room and picked up a handcrafted brass spinning top from my desk. It was the first gift Id ever given Seraphina, something Id made for her myself in a metalworking class in college. She had loved it, always keeping it on her bedside table.
This little thing is so ugly, Caleb said, fiddling with it, his fingers tracing its surface with casual disdain.
Clatter.
The top fell to the marble floor, a deep, ugly dent marring its surface.
Oops. My hand slipped, he said, spreading his hands. There was no apology in his eyes, only the raw pleasure of provocation.
In my last life, that would have sent me into a blind rage. I would have lunged at him.
But now, I just glanced at the broken toy on the floor. Then I looked up at him and smiled.
Its fine. Its just trash I was going to throw out anyway.
Calebs smirk vanished.
I walked past him, suitcase in hand, ready to leave. As I passed, I paused and leaned in close to his ear. My voice was a whisper, meant only for him. Caleb, you know that cheap mens cologne she wears sometimes? Guess how long it took me to get used to the smell of you on her?
The color drained from his face, leaving it a sickly white.
I didnt look at him again. I walked out of the home I had lived in for five years without a backward glance. The moment the door clicked shut behind me, I heard the sound of something inside being smashed violently against a wall.
I settled into the apartment Maya had found for me.
The next morning, my phone rang.
It was my mother-in-law.
The second I answered, her voice, shrill and accusatory, assaulted my ear. Asher! What the hell were you thinking last night? Do you have any idea how much you humiliated our family?
You ruined Seras birthday! Have you no shame?
I held the phone away from my ear, waiting for her to finish her tirade.
Are you done? I asked calmly.
There was a pause on the other end, as if she was shocked by my reaction. What kind of attitude is that? You listen to me! You are going to go and apologize to Seraphina right now! And to Caleb! Caleb is a good kid, stop picking on him!
Were getting a divorce, Eleanor.
What nonsense is this? A divorce? I forbid it! Her voice was as sharp as a razor blade.
This is between Seraphina and me.
Asher, dont be an ungrateful fool! Who do you think you are? Without Sera, youre nothing! Absolutely nothing!
I hung up.
The world went quiet.
A few moments later, a text message arrived.
A notification from my bank.
Every single one of my credit cards had been frozen.
It was immediately followed by a text from Seraphina.
Lets see how you like having no money, Asher. When youve had time to think, when you realize you were wrong, you can come crawling back to me.
The message ended with a single, imperious period.
I deleted the text and opened a luxury consignment app.
One by one, I listed the watches I had never dared to wear and the designer suits that had hung untouched in my closet. They were all things I had bought with my own money before the marriage.
Now, they would be the seed money for my new life.
That afternoon, I received a call from an unknown number. The caller identified himself as an organizer for the Aurora Gala, a high-profile charity auction.
Mr. Evans? Hello. Weve been informed by Ms. Sterling that your VIP seat for the event has been canceled.
Additionally, the tea set she submitted for auction, titled The Dawn, she specifically requested that the artist credit be changed to Mr. Caleb Thorne.
I held the phone, silent for a few seconds.
In my last life, this was the very tea set that launched Calebs career as a design prodigy. For Seraphina, the successful charity marketing stunt paved the way for her companys IPO.
No one knew that the true creator of the set was a long-dead master craftsman named Elias Vance.
And I just so happened to be his last and only student.
The Aurora Gala was the society event of the year. Seraphina had poured massive resources into it. She needed a flawless PR moment to elevate her companys image and build hype for an upcoming product launch. Calebs debut as a design prodigy was the centerpiece of the whole spectacle.
In my last life, I was locked away at home, forced to watch on the news as they took the stage together, bathed in the blinding light of flashbulbs. Seraphina had announced with magnanimous flair that all proceeds from The Dawn would be donated to children in need. Caleb stood beside her, looking thoughtful and modest as he described his creative journey.
They received a standing ovation.
And I, like a rat hiding in the shadows, had watched it all, consumed by a helpless, burning jealousy.
This life, I wouldnt give them the chance.
I didnt contact the media. I didnt try to find evidence.
The best way to deal with arrogance is to let it be the cause of its own spectacular fall.
I pulled out the design sketches my master, Elias Vance, had left me. Tucked into the last page was a yellowed letter. It was written to me shortly before he passed away.
In it, he mentioned the proudest creation of his later years. A piece he loved so much he had never shown it to anyone, nor had he ever signed it. He described the tea set in meticulous detail, including the small, unique V mark he had stamped into the center of the teapots base using a special glaze.
That tea set was The Dawn.
I made a phone call.
Hello, is this Alistair Finch?
A gruff, elderly voice answered. Who is this?
My name is Asher Evans. I was the student of Elias Vance.
Alistair Finch was the countrys foremost art authenticator and one of my masters closest friends. He was a man of rigid principles who despised nothing more than fraud and plagiarism in the art world.
Ah, Asher. What can I do for you?
Mr. Finch, I need to ask for your help. I didnt go into detail. I only mentioned that a piece bearing a striking resemblance to Elias Vances style might be appearing at the Aurora Gala.
I just feel, I said, my voice carefully measured, that my masters work shouldnt be forgotten. And it certainly shouldnt be stolen by a charlatan.
There was a long silence on the other end of the line.
I understand.
That was all I needed.
On the night of the auction, I didnt go. I stayed home and watched the live stream.
On the screen, Seraphina stood under the spotlights, dressed in a tailored black suit, the picture of a powerful, competent executive. Beside her, Caleb was the image of gentle artistry in a white tuxedo. Behind them, on a massive screen, was The Dawn.
The porcelain was as luminous as jade, the glaze soft and warm. When the light hit it, it seemed to glow from within, as if holding a piece of the morning sun. It was breathtakingly beautiful.
This set, The Dawn, is the result of three years of dedicated work by Caleb, Seraphinas magnetic voice filled the hall. It represents new beginnings and hope. She looked at Caleb with an expression of pure admiration and affection.
He nodded gracefully, playing his part to perfection.
The room erupted in applause.
The bidding began, and the price climbed rapidly, quickly soaring past seven figures.
Just as the auctioneer was about to bring the hammer down, a figure rose from the front row.
It was Alistair Finch.
He leaned on a cane, his hair white, but his eyes were sharp and clear. Ms. Sterling, if I may, a question for the artist?
Every eye in the room turned to him. Seraphina, who clearly recognized the titan of the art world, managed a polite smile. Of course, Mr. Finch. Please.
This tea set is, without a doubt, a masterpiece. However, the lines of the pot, the delicate curve of the cups rim they are identical to the style of my late friend, the master craftsman Elias Vance.
His voice wasnt loud, but the microphone carried it to every corner of the hall.
Mr. Thorne, may I ask who your mentor was?
2
The color drained from Calebs face.
He shot a panicked, pleading look at Seraphina, his lips trembling, unable to form a single word.
Seraphinas smile was frozen in place, a flicker of sheer panic in her eyes. Mr. Finch, you must be mistaken. Similarities in design style are quite common.
Are they? Alistairs gaze was sharp behind his glasses. In his later years, Elias Vance perfected a seamless body technique for firing thin-walled porcelain. It was a method he never shared with anyone. Im curious, Mr. Thorne, where did you learn it?
A wave of murmurs swept through the venue.
Every gaze shifted from the beautiful art on the screen to the pale, sweating face of the man on the stage. The camera flashes were relentless, like daggers trying to slash through his fraudulent mask.
I closed the live stream, picked up my glass of red wine, and gave it a gentle swirl.
The show was just getting started.
The auction devolved into a complete farce. Alistair Finchs reputation was unassailable; his accusation carried the weight of absolute authority. The design prodigy was exposed as a plagiarizing fraud overnight.
The news was everywhere.
Tycoons Secret: Charity Auction Rocked by Forgery Scandal, CEOs Best Friend Accused of Design Fraud.
Art World Titan Exposes Fake Genius on Stage.
Seraphinas company stock plummeted. Her meticulously planned PR triumph had turned into a PR catastrophe.
I could only imagine the chaos she was dealing with.
Sure enough, it wasnt long before my phone rang.
It was Seraphina.
I let it ring.
The ringing stopped, and a text message appeared.
Where are you? Get out here now!
It reeked of impotent fury.
I typed out a leisurely reply. Is there something I can help you with, Ms. Sterling? I believe were no longer associated.
Her reply was instantaneous. This was you, wasnt it? Asher, why would you do this?
I have no idea what youre talking about.
Are you happy now that youve ruined me?!
I looked at the words on the screen and smiled.
Ruined her?
No. I had simply reclaimed what belonged to my master. The person who had truly ruined her was herself, with her own greed and foolishness.
I didnt reply again.
The next day, I went to the bank and withdrew all the money Id made from selling my watches and suits. Then, I used it to register a business.
A studio. I called it Vance Heritage.
In memory of my master, Elias Vance.
I was busy setting up the space when Maya arrived. She was carrying bags of food and a bottle of champagne.
A toast, she said with a grin, to the future of our great Mr. Evans.

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