Chapter 4

I woke up to an empty house. The silence was a heavy blanket, suffocating me with the ghosts of laughter and conversations that would never happen here again.

I walked through the rooms, my hand trailing along the furniture we had picked out together. I remembered Liam piggybacking me through the door after we first bought the place, shouting, "Welcome home, Mrs. Hayes!"

I remembered us painting the walls, getting more paint on each other than on the plaster. I remembered lazy Sunday mornings in our bed, his arm wrapped around me, his steady heartbeat a lullaby.

It was all gone. Liam's heart now beat for someone else. His home was now wherever Olivia was.

It was time for me to leave.

But first, there was one last thing I had to do. I owed his parents the courtesy of a farewell. They had always been kind to me, in their own formal way.

I drove to the Hayes family mansion, the grand, imposing house where Liam grew up. As I pulled into the long, winding driveway, I heard it.

Laughter.

It was coming from the back garden. I could hear Eleanor, Liam's mother, her voice high and delighted. I could hear Richard, his father, his deeper chuckle. And I could hear another woman's voice, soft and sweet. Olivia.

The house servant let me in, her expression sympathetic. She led me towards the garden.

Liam was there, standing by a rose bush. He saw me, and the color drained from his face. He looked like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Chloe," he breathed, taking a step towards me.

"Don't you have any shame?" Eleanor's sharp voice cut through the air. She was sitting at a patio table with Olivia, a plate of scones between them. "Showing up here after what you did?"

"Mom, stop," Liam said, his voice tight. "It wasn't her fault."

"Wasn't her fault?" Eleanor scoffed. "Olivia was traumatized! And you, you barren woman, you show up and upset her even more. You're just jealous because Olivia can give my son what you never could."

The words were like stones, sharp and hard.

Olivia placed a delicate hand on Eleanor's arm. "Mrs. Hayes, please don't be upset. It's not Chloe's fault. I'm sure she didn't mean any harm."

Her feigned kindness was more insulting than Eleanor's open hostility.

"I want you to leave my house," Eleanor said, pointing a finger at me. "Now."

I ignored her. I ignored Liam, who was torn between defending me and placating his mother. I walked straight up to the table and looked at Olivia.

"Can we talk? In private."

She looked surprised, then a sly, confident smile touched her lips. "Of course."

We walked to a more secluded part of the garden, near a large oak tree.

"What do you want, Chloe?" she asked, dropping the sweet act. Her voice was cold and triumphant.

"I want to know why."

She laughed. "Why? Because I can. Because Liam loves me. Because his family wants me. Because I'm carrying his child. You want more reasons? I was married before, you know. To a rich old man. He died and left me nothing. I learned my lesson. The Hayes family has real money, legacy money. And I'm going to be the one to enjoy it."

She was brazen, unashamed. It was almost breathtaking.

"So you admit you're just using him," I said.

"Using him? I'm giving him a family. A legacy. Something you couldn't do." She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a vicious whisper. "He was mine first, you know. Before you. You were just a placeholder."

Then she did something I never expected.

She grabbed my hand and forced it against her own stomach. "Feel that? That's his son."

And then she stumbled backward, letting out a piercing scream. "Ahh! She pushed me! Liam, she pushed me!"

She collapsed onto the manicured lawn, clutching her stomach and crying out in pain.

Liam, his parents, everyone came running.

Liam saw Olivia on the ground, then looked at me, my hand still outstretched from where she had thrust it. His eyes, just for a second, filled with a terrible, damning accusation.

"Chloe, what did you do?" he asked, his voice a hoarse whisper as he rushed to Olivia's side.

Eleanor didn't hesitate. She marched up to me and her hand cracked across my face. The force of the slap sent me stumbling back. My cheek stung, but the humiliation was worse.

"You monster!" she shrieked. "You tried to hurt my grandchild!"

Liam scooped a "sobbing" Olivia into his arms. He looked at me over her shoulder, his face a mess of confusion, fear, and blame.

"We're going to the hospital," he announced, and carried Olivia away. Richard and Eleanor followed, shooting me looks of pure hatred.

They left me standing alone in the garden, my cheek burning, my heart a block of ice.

I drove home.

I sat down at the desk in our study. I pulled out a fresh sheet of paper.

I wrote out the divorce agreement. I signed my name at the bottom. I didn't ask for a thing.

I packed a single suitcase.

I looked at the calendar. The next day was our fourth wedding anniversary.

I placed the signed papers in an envelope on our bed, right on Liam's pillow. I dated it for the next day. A final, cruel anniversary gift.