The City Hall building loomed ahead, its gray concrete facade as unwelcoming as a prison wall. Ethan walked through the front doors with Margaret and Robert trailing behind him, their expressions a mixture of anger and disbelief. Margaret had agreed to the termination, but only after an hour of argument that had ended with her realizing Ethan was serious.
What she didn't know, what neither of them knew, was that this was exactly what she wanted. Ethan had seen the flash of relief in her eyes when he'd first suggested it. For years, Margaret had been looking for a way to get rid of him without damaging the Chen family's reputation. Now he was handing her the perfect opportunity.
The waiting area was quiet, occupied only by a tired-looking clerk behind a desk and an elderly couple filling out forms in the corner. Ethan approached the counter, Margaret and Robert flanking him like reluctant escorts.
"We're here to process an adoption termination," Ethan said clearly.
The clerk, a middle-aged woman with graying hair and kind eyes, looked up from her computer. Her gaze swept over the three of them, taking in Ethan's calm demeanor and his adoptive parents' obvious discomfort. "An adoption termination? That's fairly unusual. Are you the adoptive parents?"
"Yes," Robert said stiffly.
The clerk's eyes settled on Ethan. "And you're the adoptee? How old are you, son?"
"Twenty-three," Ethan replied. "I'm initiating this voluntarily. I want to terminate my legal relationship with the Chen family."
The clerk's eyebrows rose slightly. She'd probably seen many things in her years at this job, but voluntary terminations by adult adoptees weren't common. "I see. May I ask why you're choosing to do this?"
Ethan felt Margaret stiffen beside him. He could practically hear her silent plea for him to keep quiet, to not embarrass the family, to maintain the facade of the perfect adopted son who was simply going through a phase.
He smiled faintly. "My younger brother is dating my girlfriend. My adoptive parents thought I should be understanding about it. So I am. I understand that I'm not really part of this family and never have been."
The clerk's professional mask slipped for just a moment, revealing a flicker of sympathy. She glanced at Margaret and Robert, both of whom had gone rigid with embarrassment. The elderly couple in the corner had stopped their paperwork and were listening with undisguised interest.
"I see," the clerk said again, more quietly this time. "Well, let's get the paperwork started then."
The process took nearly two hours. Forms had to be filled out, signatures verified, legal statements read aloud. Through it all, Margaret maintained a facade of dignified resignation, as if she were the wounded party graciously accepting Ethan's irrational decision. Robert said little, his jaw tight, his eyes fixed on the papers in front of him.
Ethan felt nothing but relief.
Finally, the clerk stamped the last document and looked up at them. "That's everything. As of today, the adoption between Ethan Chen and Robert and Margaret Chen is legally terminated. Ethan, you'll need to update your identification and other legal documents to reflect your original name."
Original name. Ethan had been born Ethan Cross, a name he barely remembered from his early childhood. The Chens had changed it when they adopted him, erasing even that small piece of his identity.
"Thank you," Ethan said, taking his copies of the paperwork.
As they walked out of the building, Margaret finally broke her silence. The cool exterior cracked, revealing the calculation beneath. "Well," she said, her voice dripping with false generosity. "I suppose this is goodbye then. But we're not heartless, Ethan. Despite everything, we did raise you. We can give you some money to help you get started. What do you think, Robert? Five thousand dollars? That should be more than enough for someone as... resourceful as Ethan claims to be."
It was a test, Ethan realized. A final attempt to prove that he was still dependent on them, that he would accept their charity and thereby acknowledge their superiority. Five thousand dollars to a young man with no job and no family was supposed to feel like a fortune. It was supposed to make him grateful.
Robert pulled out his checkbook, his movements deliberate and slow. "Five thousand should cover a few months of rent and expenses. After all, without our support, things are going to be difficult for you."
The implication was clear. Without them, he was nothing. Without their money, their connections, their name, he would fail and come crawling back.
Ethan looked at the check Robert was writing, at the careful formation of numbers and his signature, at Margaret's smug expression. In his previous life, he probably would have taken it. He would have needed it.
But he wasn't that Ethan anymore.
"Keep it," Ethan said calmly. "I won't need your money. I'll have plenty of my own soon enough."
Margaret's laugh was sharp and brittle. "Your own money? Ethan, you work part-time at a bookstore. You barely make enough to cover your phone bill. Where exactly do you think this money is going to come from?"
"That's my concern, not yours." Ethan met her eyes steadily. "We're not family anymore, remember? You don't need to worry about me."
The confusion on Margaret's face was almost worth all the years of suffering. She'd expected him to be desperate, to accept whatever scraps they offered. The fact that he was walking away with nothing but confidence clearly didn't fit into her understanding of how this was supposed to work.
"You've lost your mind," she said finally. "Fine. Throw away our generosity. But don't come running back to us when reality hits and you realize what a mistake you've made."
"I won't," Ethan promised. "Enjoy your life with your real son."
He turned and walked away, leaving them standing on the City Hall steps. He didn't look back. There was nothing behind him worth seeing anymore.
Ethan pulled out his phone as he walked, searching for the nearest lottery retailer. The Mega Millions drawing was tonight at 11 PM. He had the winning numbers burned into his memory, numbers he'd seen announced on a television in a refugee shelter in his previous life, numbers he'd memorized out of bitter irony while freezing and starving.
In that timeline, the jackpot had gone unclaimed. The winner had never come forward, and the money had rolled over to the next drawing. Ethan had often wondered what he would have done with that money, how different things might have been.
Now he was going to find out.
He found a convenience store three blocks away, its neon sign flickering in the late afternoon light. The interior was cramped and cluttered, smelling of old coffee and cleaning solution. An elderly man sat behind the counter, reading a newspaper.
"Mega Millions ticket, please," Ethan said.
The old man looked up, studying Ethan with rheumy eyes. "Big jackpot tonight. Three hundred million. You feeling lucky, son?"
"Very lucky," Ethan replied.
He filled out the play slip carefully, marking each number with deliberate precision. 7, 14, 21, 35, 49, and the Mega Ball: 23. Numbers that would change his life. Numbers that already had, in a way.
The machine printed his ticket with a mechanical whir. Ethan took it, folded it carefully, and slipped it into his wallet.
"Good luck," the old man called as Ethan left.
Luck had nothing to do with it.
Ethan found a cheap motel on the edge of town, the kind of place that rented rooms by the hour and didn't ask questions. It would last for one night. Tomorrow, everything will change.
He lay on the sagging mattress, staring at the water-stained ceiling, and thought about the future. With three hundred million dollars, even after taxes, he'd have more money than he could spend in a lifetime. More importantly, he'd have the resources to prepare properly for the apocalypse.
The freeze would start in seventeen days. By then, he needed to have a plan. A real shelter, not just a stockpile of supplies. Somewhere he could ride out the initial chaos, somewhere the cold couldn't reach him.
But before all that, before the preparations and the survival, there was something else he needed to do.
He needed to watch the Chen family suffer.
Ethan pulled out his phone and navigated to Dylan's social media. His brother's page was public, filled with carefully curated photos of his perfect life. There was a recent picture of Dylan and Jessica, posted just hours ago. They were at a restaurant, smiling at the camera, Jessica's head resting on Dylan's shoulder. The caption read: "Finally with the one I'm meant to be with."
Ethan stared at the photo, waiting for the familiar pain to hit, the jealousy and hurt he'd felt the first time he'd seen it.
Nothing came. Just a cold, analytical detachment.
In seventeen days, none of this would matter. The restaurants would close. The smiles would fade. And when the freeze came, when the power failed and the food ran out and the temperature dropped to lethal levels, Dylan and Jessica would learn what true suffering felt like.
So would Margaret and Robert.
Ethan had died alone in the snow, abandoned by the people who were supposed to love him. He'd frozen slowly, his body shutting down piece by piece while they stayed warm inside. The memory of that death, the terror and agony of it, was burned into his soul.
He wouldn't kill them. He wouldn't have to. The apocalypse would do that for him. All he had to do was make sure they had no way to prepare, no resources to draw on when the crisis hit.
And he knew exactly how to do it.
Ethan opened his laptop and began to research. He pulled up articles about the Chen family's business, a mid-sized manufacturing company that Robert had inherited from his father. It was successful enough to keep the family comfortable, but not so large that it could weather a major crisis.
In his previous life, the company had failed within the first week of the freeze. Supply chains had collapsed, workers had abandoned their posts to be with their families, and the whole operation had ground to a halt. Robert had burned through their savings trying to keep it afloat, leaving them vulnerable when the real disaster hit.
Ethan could accelerate that collapse. A few well-placed anonymous tips to regulatory agencies, some leaked information to competitors, maybe a rumor or two about financial instability. Nothing illegal, nothing that could be traced back to him. Just enough to shake investor confidence and speed up the inevitable.
He spent the next few hours making notes, building a strategy. By the time the sun set, he had a plan. It would take some time to implement, but he had seventeen days. More than enough.
His phone buzzed with a text message. Dylan.
"Come on man, don't be like this. We can still be brothers."
Ethan deleted the message without responding.
Another text, this time from Margaret.
"You're making a huge mistake. You have 24 hours to come home and apologize. After that, don't expect any help from us."
He blocked her number.
At 11 PM, Ethan turned on the television in his motel room and watched the Mega Millions drawing. The numbered balls tumbled in their chamber, dropping one by one. 7. 14. 21. 35. 49. And finally, the Mega Ball: 23.
The newscaster's voice was bright with excitement. "We have a winner! One lucky ticket holder has just won the three-hundred-million-dollar jackpot!"
Ethan looked down at his ticket, at the numbers that matched perfectly. Three hundred million dollars. After taxes, roughly one hundred and eighty million in a lump sum.
Enough to build an empire. Enough to survive the end of the world in comfort. Enough to make sure that everyone who had ever hurt him would see exactly what they'd thrown away.
He smiled, a cold expression that didn't reach his eyes.
Tomorrow, he will claim his prize. And then the real preparation would begin. The Chen family thought they'd seen the last of him, thought he would fade away into obscurity and failure.
They had no idea what was coming. Neither the apocalypse they couldn't imagine, nor the revenge of the son they'd discarded.
Ethan Cross was done being a victim. The freeze was coming, and when it did, he would be the only one left standing.