Chapter 2

The key sliding into the lock felt foreign in his own hand. The apartment he had shared with Chloe for three years, the space he had designed himself, now seemed like a stranger' s home. The air was different. Her light, floral perfume was still there, but it was mixed with a heavier, musky cologne he didn' t recognize. A man' s leather jacket he' d never seen before was slung carelessly over the back of their favorite armchair. Liam felt a chill that had nothing to do with his lingering fever.

He moved slowly, his body protesting every step. He had wanted to confront her, to demand answers, but the sight of that jacket stole the words from his throat. He just wanted to get his passport and a few personal items and leave. He headed toward the bedroom, his steps quiet on the polished hardwood floors.

As he neared the closed door, he heard voices. Chloe' s, and a man' s. Mark' s. Mark was his associate at the firm, a man Liam had mentored, a man he had trusted. His stomach twisted.

"Are you sure he's not going to be a problem?" Mark' s voice was smooth, confident. "The police called, asking questions."

"Don't worry about the police," Chloe replied, and the sound of her voice, so casual and dismissive, made Liam' s blood run cold. "And don't worry about Liam. Even if he turns up, what can he do? He' s weak. Always has been."

Liam froze, his hand hovering over the doorknob. He leaned closer, pressing his ear against the cool wood.

"He was so pathetic on the phone with those guys," Chloe continued, and he could hear the sneer in her tone. "Begging me to pay the ransom. Crying. It was disgusting. Honestly, Mark, I'm glad I didn't pay. He was holding me back, holding the firm back. With him gone, we can finally take on the big projects, the ones he was too 'ethical' to touch."

The words hit him like a physical blow, knocking the air from his lungs. He stumbled back, his hand flying to his mouth to stifle a gasp. Disgusting. She had found his fear, his desperation, disgusting. He had been fighting for his life, thinking of her, and she had been thinking of his weakness.

A memory flashed, unbidden and painful. A year ago, he' d sliced his finger open while cooking. It wasn't a serious cut, but Chloe had rushed over, her face etched with worry. She had cleaned the wound so gently, her touch a feather-light caress, whispering, "Oh, my poor Liam, you have to be more careful." She had kissed his bandaged finger, her eyes full of what he had mistaken for love. The memory was a cruel joke now, a highlight reel of a life that had been a lie. Where was that woman? Had she ever even existed?

"Now, it's our firm," Mark said, his voice laced with triumph. "Our future."

Liam felt a profound sense of displacement, of being erased. Mark hadn't just taken his job; he had taken his life, his home, his future, with Chloe' s blessing. He had been completely and utterly replaced. The man whose career he had helped build was now sleeping in his bed, with his fiancée.

He needed to see. He didn't know why, but he needed the visual proof to incinerate the last lingering ember of hope. With a trembling hand, he pushed the bedroom door open just a crack.

The sight that greeted him was worse than anything he could have imagined. Chloe was lying on the bed, wearing one of his old t-shirts. Mark was beside her, his arm draped possessively around her waist, his hand resting on her stomach. They were laughing, their faces close, the picture of intimacy and shared secrets. They looked comfortable, happy, as if they belonged there. As if he had never existed at all. The image burned itself into his brain, a permanent scar on his memory. He quietly pulled the door shut, the soft click sounding like a gunshot in the silent apartment.