Chapter 3

The next morning, Liam called a high-powered attorney.

He wanted out. His assets, his equity in AuraConnect. Everything separated.

He deserved his share. He built the damn thing.

Jessica was a ghost in their sprawling condo.

She left early, probably to meet her model.

Liam didn't care.

He was methodical, cold.

The pain was still there, a raw wound, but a new resolve was hardening over it.

A few days later, while the lawyers were starting their dance, Liam received a video message.

It was from Maria, Jessica' s sometimes-concerned friend.

But the video wasn't from Maria. It was orchestrated by Jessica.

It showed Jessica and her clique, champagne glasses raised, at some trendy Austin brunch spot.

"To freedom!" Jessica declared, her voice bright and false.

"And to Liam lasting a whole week without begging to come back!" another girl chimed in.

They all laughed.

Jessica looked directly at the camera, a smug, challenging look in her eyes.

"He' ll be back," she mouthed, then took a large sip of champagne.

The video ended.

Liam deleted it.

The arrogance. The cruelty.

It just solidified his decision.

A clean break.

That' s what he needed.

He went to his closet.

The custom-designed tuxedo he' d planned to wear for their wedding hung there.

A wedding that would never happen.

He took it down.

With a pair of heavy shears from his office, he began to cut it.

First the sleeves, then the lapels, then right down the middle.

Shredding the fabric was surprisingly therapeutic.

Each cut was a severance.

A piece of the past, destroyed.

He then went through the condo, gathering all the expensive gifts Jessica had given him over the years.

Watches, cufflinks, art pieces.

He boxed them all up.

On top, he left a concise, dignified farewell note.

It simply read: "Jessica, these are yours. Our accounts are being handled by my lawyer. I wish you the life you clearly desire. Goodbye, Liam."

He didn' t say he' d miss her. He didn' t say he was heartbroken.

He just stated facts.

The next day, Liam was on a plane.

One way ticket to Boston, Massachusetts.

He needed anonymity, a new beginning.

He had some old university contacts there, potential for new ventures.

Austin was too full of her, of them.

He needed to breathe air that didn' t smell of her perfume or their shared history.

He was leaving behind a decade of his life.

And he didn't look back.

As the plane took off, he felt a strange sense of lightness.

The pain was still there, but it was his pain now, not hers to mock.

In Boston, he checked into a boutique hotel.

He started reaching out to old friends from his Ivy League days.

One of them mentioned an alumni networking event at a historic Boston club.

"You should come, Liam. Get your mind off things. Meet some people."

He hesitated, then agreed.

What did he have to lose?

The club was old money, all dark wood and hushed tones.

Liam felt out of place in his new, off-the-rack suit.

He was nursing a whiskey when a woman approached him.

Strikingly elegant, a confident air about her.

"Liam? Liam Kerrigan?"

He vaguely recognized her. Isabelle. Isabelle Dubois.

She was a year his senior at university. He hadn't seen her in over a decade.

"Isabelle," he said, surprised. "Wow. It's been a long time."

"Too long," she said, her eyes intense.

His old classmates, who knew about his very public breakup, seemed to materialize around them.

They made small talk, but Liam felt their subtle nudges, trying to push him and Isabelle together.

Isabelle, however, needed no help.

She focused solely on him, her gaze unwavering.

He learned she was from a powerful, philanthropic New England family.

She was sharp, assertive, and disarmingly direct.

And she seemed very, very interested in him.