Chapter 2

Liam continued his performance of the perfect husband, completely unaware that the stage had collapsed around me.

The next morning, he brought me breakfast in bed, a tray with my favorite pastries and a single red rose in a small vase.

"For my beautiful wife," he said, smiling that charming smile that had once made my heart flutter.

Now, it just made my stomach turn. I forced myself to smile back.

"Thank you, Liam. You' re so thoughtful."

He sat on the edge of the bed, his expression full of concern. "You seemed distant last night. Are you sure you' re okay? Is it... is it about Hope?"

He used our lost child' s name as a weapon, a tool to gauge my emotional state. The audacity of it almost made me laugh. I let a flicker of sadness cross my face, a performance of my own.

"It' s always about Hope," I said softly. "It just hits me sometimes."

His face softened with what looked like sympathy. "I know, my love. I' m here for you."

He was a master manipulator.

Later that week, I decided to test the waters. We were sitting in the living room, reading. I put my book down and looked at him.

"Liam, I' ve been thinking," I began, choosing my words carefully. "Maya has been with us for over a year now. She seems to be doing much better. Maybe it' s time we helped her find a place of her own. It would be good for her and Leo to have their own space, to be more independent."

Liam didn' t even look up from his tablet. His posture stiffened almost imperceptibly.

"She' s not ready, Chloe," he said, his tone final. "She' s family. She needs us. And Leo loves it here. Don' t be selfish."

Selfish. The word hung in the air between us. He was protecting her, shielding her. My suggestion was a threat to their arrangement, and he shut it down immediately. A cold certainty settled in my chest.

My observations became sharper. I started noticing things I had been blind to before. A shared glance between Liam and Maya across the dinner table that lasted a second too long. The way Liam' s hand would brush her back as she passed by, a gesture so fleeting it was almost invisible. The way he would laugh at something she said, a genuine, unguarded laugh that I hadn' t heard from him in months.

They were a family. I was the intruder in my own home.

One afternoon, I was looking out the window of my studio, trying to work on a design, but my mind was blank. I saw them in the garden below. Liam was pushing little Leo on the swing, his face lit up with joy. Maya stood beside him, her hand resting on Liam' s arm, leaning into him slightly. They were talking and laughing, a perfect picture of domestic bliss.

Leo shouted, "Higher, Uncle Liam! Higher!"

Maya smiled at Liam, a look of pure adoration on her face. "He loves you so much."

Liam looked back at her, and in that moment, I saw it all. The love, the secret understanding, the shared history. They were a complete unit. Leo, Maya, and Liam.

I felt like a ghost, watching a life that was supposed to be mine. The pain was a physical thing, a crushing weight on my chest that made it hard to breathe. I was the wife, the lady of the house, but I was completely and utterly alone.

The final, undeniable proof came during a charity gala we hosted at the mansion. I was mingling with guests when I saw Maya corner me near the bar. She was wearing a stunning, backless red dress that I knew must have cost a fortune. My fortune.

She smiled, a sweet, poisonous smile. "Chloe, you look lovely tonight. But a little tired. Is everything alright?"

"I' m fine, Maya. Just busy."

"Of course," she said, taking a sip of her champagne. She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You know, you' re so good to Liam. So understanding. He worries about you constantly. He tells me everything."

She was marking her territory, flaunting her intimacy with him right in my face.

"He told me how much you wanted a child," she continued, her eyes gleaming with malice. "It' s such a shame about your miscarriage. Some women just aren' t meant to be mothers, I suppose."

My hand tightened around my glass. I wanted to throw its contents in her face, to scream at her, to expose her right then and there. But I held back. It wasn' t time.

"That' s a cruel thing to say, Maya."

She just shrugged. "The truth is often cruel."

Later that night, unable to sleep, I found myself in Liam' s home office. I wasn' t looking for anything in particular, just a quiet place to think. My eyes landed on a small, locked wooden box on his desk. I had seen it before but never paid it any mind.

My curiosity got the better of me. I remembered where he kept a spare key, inside an old book on the shelf. My hands trembled as I unlocked the box.

Inside, there wasn't a jumble of papers or old keepsakes. There was only one thing.

A small, silver locket.

I opened it. On one side was a tiny, professionally taken photo of Maya, smiling radiantly. On the other side was a picture of little Leo. And etched on the inside of the cover, in delicate script, were the words:

My real family. My real hope.

Hope.

He had used the name I had given our unborn child. He had taken that last, sacred piece of my heart and given it to them.

The air left my lungs. The locket fell from my numb fingers, clattering onto the desk.

It wasn't just betrayal. It was desecration. He hadn' t just lied to me; he had erased me. He had erased our child.

In that moment, any lingering love I had for Liam died. It turned to ash and blew away, leaving behind something cold, hard, and unbreakable.

Despair was gone. All that was left was a pure, clarifying rage.