Chapter 2

The lawyer' s office was cold and impersonal, all polished wood and leather-bound books that no one ever read. I signed the divorce papers without reading them again, my hand steady. The finality of my signature on the crisp paper was a relief, a clean, sharp break. It was the first step.

"Is there anything else, Mrs. Miller?" the lawyer asked, his tone professionally detached.

"It' s Ms. Reynolds now," I corrected him. "And no, that' s everything." I walked out of the office and didn' t look back.

The next few days were a blur of systematic erasure. I went through our apartment, the home we had shared for five years, and packed my life into boxes. Each item was a small monument to a dead love. The photos from our honeymoon in Italy, his arm slung around me, both of us laughing into the camera. I took them out of the frames and tore them into small pieces. The collection of vintage records we' d spent weekends hunting for. I left them for him. The ugly ceramic mug I' d made him in a pottery class, which he used every single morning. I smashed it in the bottom of a trash can. It was a painful but necessary ritual, a methodical cutting of ties.

I was in the middle of clearing out my closet when the doorbell rang. I wasn't expecting anyone. I opened it to find Liam standing there, and next to him, holding his arm, was Chloe Davis. Her belly was prominent now, a clear statement of her victory.

"Olivia," Liam said, his expression uncomfortable. "Chloe needed to get some things. With the baby coming, she' ll be staying here with me now. I hope you understand."

I looked past him, at the woman who had orchestrated the ruin of my life. She gave me a small, triumphant smile. I said nothing, just stepped aside to let them in. The air grew thick with tension. Liam busied himself in the kitchen, avoiding the charged atmosphere in the living room.

"It' s a lovely apartment," Chloe said, running a hand over the back of the sofa. "A shame you have to leave. But I suppose it was never really your place to keep, was it? You couldn' t give him what he truly wanted."

Her words were deliberate, each one a carefully aimed dart. I refused to give her the satisfaction of a reaction. I just continued packing my books into a box.

"He loves me, you know," she continued, her voice syrupy sweet. "He' s so excited about our son. He talks about him all the time. We' re going to be a real family."

I closed the lid on the box and sealed it with tape, the sound loud in the quiet room.

Suddenly, Chloe let out a sharp cry. I turned to see her stumbling, her hand clutching her stomach as she crumpled to the floor.

"My stomach! It hurts!" she shrieked. "She pushed me! Olivia pushed me!"

I stood frozen, my hands still on the box. I hadn' t moved. I hadn' t touched her.

Liam came rushing in from the kitchen, his face a storm of panic and fury. He didn' t even look at me. He didn' t ask what happened. He knelt beside Chloe, his voice panicked. "Chloe! Are you okay? What did she do?"

"She' s jealous!" Chloe sobbed into his shoulder. "She' s angry about the baby! She pushed me down!"

Liam' s head snapped up, his eyes locking onto mine. The accusation in them was absolute. "How could you?" he roared, his voice shaking with a rage I had never witnessed. "She is pregnant with my child! Are you trying to kill my son?"

The injustice of it was a physical blow. He didn't even consider my side of the story. He simply believed her, instantly and completely.

He scooped Chloe up into his arms, cradling her as if she were made of glass. "I' m taking you to the hospital," he murmured to her, his voice full of tender concern. He carried her out of the apartment, leaving me standing alone amidst the boxes of my dismantled life. He didn' t look back. He didn' t say another word to me.

He had abandoned me in a fire. Now, he abandoned me for a lie.

A strange sound escaped my lips. It was a laugh, but it was hollow and brittle, devoid of any humor. It was the sound of a heart breaking for the final time, the sound of hope dying completely. I was utterly, irrevocably alone.