Chapter 2

When I got home, my parents were waiting for me, their faces beaming with excitement. The smell of garlic bread and lasagna filled the house, a scent of love and safety I thought I' d never experience again.

"Honey, you're here!" my mom said, hugging me tightly.

"We have a surprise for you," my dad added, his eyes twinkling. He handed me a small, ornate box.

Inside was a key.

"It's for a penthouse apartment," my mom explained, her voice full of pride. "Right downtown, just a few blocks from Liam's office. We thought... you know, for when you two get married, it would be convenient."

They were so happy, so full of hope for me. For a future that I now knew was a lie. The lasagna suddenly felt heavy in my stomach. I couldn't let them sacrifice everything for my foolishness again.

I put the key down on the table. "Mom, Dad," I said, my voice gentle but firm. "I appreciate this. I really do. But I don't love Liam anymore."

The smiles on their faces froze. My mother's hand flew to her chest.

"What are you talking about, Scarlett?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly. "You've loved him for over ten years. Since you were a teenager."

"I was a kid," I said. "I'm not anymore. Things change."

Before they could press me further, my phone rang. The caller ID flashed Liam Hayes.

My dad glanced at the phone, then at me, and a look of understanding crossed his face. "Ah, a little fight, huh?" he said, patting my shoulder. "You two will work it out."

My mom nodded in agreement. "We'll leave you to it. Don't be too hard on him, honey."

They left the room, assuming this was just a typical lover's quarrel. I took a deep breath and answered the phone.

"Hello?"

"Where are you?" Liam's voice was cold, clipped. No greeting, no preamble.

"I'm at home," I replied, my tone deliberately nonchalant. "Is there something you need?"

There was a pause on the other end. He was probably thrown by my lack of emotion. I was supposed to be crying, begging for his attention.

"I had my assistant order you some birth control pills," he said flatly. "They'll be delivered to your place in an hour. Make sure you take them."

In my past life, this would have destroyed me. Now, it was just... information.

"Okay, thanks," I said.

Silence. I could almost hear him processing my response. He was expecting tears, accusations, anything but calm acceptance.

"You left your bag at my place," he finally said, his voice tight. "The one you had at the party."

It was a designer bag, a gift from him for my last birthday. A hollow gesture, but one I had cherished.

"That bag is old," I said casually. "You can just throw it away."

I heard a sharp intake of breath, and then the line went dead. He had hung up on me.

I smiled.

When the pills arrived, I took two, just to be safe.

A week passed. I didn't call Liam. I didn't text him. I blocked his number. I threw myself into my father's business, an architectural firm that was struggling slightly. Using my knowledge from my past life, I pointed out a few overlooked municipal contracts and zoning changes, helping my dad secure two major projects that had been slipping through his fingers. My parents were thrilled, and for the first time in years, I felt a sense of purpose that had nothing to do with a man's approval.

One evening, I was at a high-end restaurant with my dad, celebrating our new contract. As we were leaving, I saw him. Liam, sitting at a large table with a group of his friends. Our eyes met across the room.

He stood up and walked over, his expression a mask of cold fury.

"Scarlett, I told you not to track my movements," he said, his voice low and menacing.

I didn't bother to explain that I was there with my father, that this was a complete coincidence. He wouldn't believe me anyway.

"My apologies," I said, my voice polite and distant. "I'll leave now."

As I turned to go, one of his friends, a loudmouth named Greg, raised his glass. "Hey, Liam! Is that the girl? The one who finally popped your cherry? Here's to Scarlett, for her service!" He laughed, and a few others joined in.

The air went still. I saw Liam's jaw tighten. He shot his friend a look that could kill. "Shut up, Greg."

Then he turned his gaze back to me. It was filled with a chilling mix of anger and humiliation. He pointed to the grand piano in the center of the restaurant's lounge.

"You want to be here so badly? Fine," he said, his voice dripping with contempt. "Go play a song. Entertain us. No need for drinks, I'm too busy to drive an idiot like you home anyway."

His friends snickered. He was punishing me for their crudeness. He was making me the spectacle to reclaim his own pride.

In that moment, a memory from my past life surfaced. A time when Bethany had been insulted by a drunk businessman at a party. Liam had smashed a bottle over the man's head without a second's hesitation. For Bethany, he was a protector, a warrior.

For me? I wasn't even worthy of being compared to her. I was just a nuisance to be swatted away, a tool for his amusement.