Chapter 3

I woke up in my own bed. For a single, blissful second, I thought it was all a nightmare. Then the weight of it crashed down on me, a physical pressure that made it hard to breathe. The scent of our room, the feel of the sheets, everything was a reminder of a life that no longer existed.

The door opened, and Liam walked in.

He looked tired, but there was no grief in his eyes. Only irritation.

He came over to the bed and looked down at me.

"Finally awake?" he said, his voice sharp. "You really know how to put on a show, don't you?"

He reached down and grabbed my arm, pulling me up into a sitting position.

"Stop this, Ava. I' ve had enough of your games."

I flinched away from his touch. My body felt weak, fragile.

"Let go of me," I whispered.

"Let go?" He laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. "You stage this whole thing, make it look like our children are dead just to manipulate me, and you want me to let go?"

The words were so insane, so detached from the horrific reality, that I could only stare at him. He actually believed I was capable of something so monstrous. He was projecting his own evil onto me.

"They are dead, Liam," I said, my voice flat and empty. "You killed them."

His face tightened. "Don' t say that. Don' t you dare say that. I told the nanny to punish them for a short time. A very short time. If something went wrong, it was her fault. Or maybe it was yours. Maybe you wanted this to happen."

He leaned closer, his breath hot on my face. "You think this will make me feel guilty? Make me come crawling back to you? It won' t work."

He tried to kiss me then. I turned my head, and his lips landed on my cheek. The contact felt vile, a desecration. I pushed at his chest with all my strength, which wasn' t much.

"Get away from me," I choked out.

His expression hardened into pure contempt. He stood up, towering over me.

"Fine. Have it your way."

He walked out of the bedroom. A moment later, I heard a loud crash from the hallway. I forced my trembling legs out of bed and followed the sound.

He was in the children' s room. He was pulling their toys off the shelves and throwing them into large, black trash bags. The stuffed animals they slept with, the blocks they built towers with, the books I read to them every night.

He was erasing them.

"Stop it," I cried, running toward him. "What are you doing? Those are their things!"

He didn' t even look at me. Two burly men I didn' t recognize were with him, efficiently packing everything away. One of them grabbed my arms, holding me back as I struggled.

"Let me go! Please, don' t take their things!" I screamed, watching as Liam tossed Lily' s favorite worn-out teddy bear into a bag.

"I' m clearing out this room," Liam said coldly, not pausing in his work. "Chelsea is moving in. We need a proper nursery for our new baby."

My heart, which I thought couldn' t break any further, shattered into a million tiny pieces. I stopped struggling. The fight just drained out of me, replaced by a vast, hollow emptiness. I hung limp in the man' s arms, watching Liam destroy the last tangible pieces of my children' s lives.

I thought back to the day I first saw him. I was five years old, at a garden party. He was seven, with serious eyes and a quiet intensity. I fell in love with him instantly, a fierce, childish devotion that never faded. I spent my entire youth chasing him, loving him from afar.

The day he finally asked me out, I thought I would burst with happiness. The day he proposed, I cried. He was my dream come true.

I remembered his father' s funeral. Liam was devastated, consumed by a silent, burning anger. He blamed my family, even though everyone knew it was a tragic accident. His father had been driving too fast on a wet road. But Liam needed someone to blame, and my family, who had just surpassed his in business, became his target.

His family warned me. His own mother told me he was too full of hate. "He' ll destroy you, Ava," she had said.

But I was young and in love and naively believed my love could heal him. I thought if I gave him everything-my heart, my support, a family-it would be enough. I willingly walked into the marriage, convinced I could fix what was broken in him.

For a few years, it seemed to work. We were happy. Or, I was happy. He was a good actor.

Now, watching him toss my children' s memories into the trash like common garbage, I finally understood. All those years, all that love, all that sacrifice-it was all for nothing. It was a lie. He had never loved me. He had only ever hated me.

The man holding me finally let go. I slid to the floor, unable to stand.

Liam glanced down at me, his face devoid of any emotion.

"Get her out of my sight," he said to the men.

As they dragged me away, I knew with absolute certainty what I had to do.

I would file for divorce. And I would see him destroyed.