Chapter 4

Richard Stone's words hung in the air, heavy with the threat of disinheritance. He stood there, a tyrant in his own home, convinced he held all the cards. Olivia watched, her expression unreadable. She was probably expecting me to either explode in anger or fold completely, just as the original Liam would have.

[This is it! The ultimatum!]

[He's going to have to beg. There's no way he gives up the family fortune.]

[Come on, Liam, crawl! We've been waiting for this!]

The audience was practically salivating. They wanted to see me humiliated, broken, forced back onto the path they expected.

I let the silence stretch. I looked at my father's furious face, then at Olivia's quiet apprehension. I felt a profound sense of calm settle over me. This was it. The final break.

"Okay," I said.

The word was so quiet, so devoid of emotion, that it seemed to suck the air out of the room.

Richard stared at me, confused. "Okay? What do you mean, 'okay'?"

"I mean okay," I repeated, my voice even. "I accept your terms. I won't apologize. You can have the company. You can have the family inheritance. I don't want it."

My father's jaw dropped. His face went from red with anger to pale with disbelief. Olivia took a small, involuntary step back, her eyes widening in shock.

[...]

[...what.]

[Did I just hear that right? He... gave it all up?]

[The money? The company? For what? Just to not apologize? This makes no sense! This script is broken!]

The comments were a mess of confusion and disbelief. The narrative had just derailed so completely that even the audience was lost.

"You're bluffing," Richard finally sputtered, his voice losing its confident boom.

"I'm not," I said. I turned to leave. "I'll have my lawyer contact yours to arrange the transfer of my shares. I'll be out of this house by tonight. Goodbye, Richard."

I didn't call him father. The man in front of me wasn't my father. He was just a roadblock to my freedom, and he had just obligingly removed himself from my path.

I was almost at the door when Olivia's voice stopped me.

"Liam, wait."

I paused but didn't turn around.

"The things with Sarah... and the divorce..." she started, her voice hesitant. "I don't understand what's happening."

"You don't need to," I said, my back still to her. "It has nothing to do with you anymore."

"I'm still going to the gala on Saturday," she said, a strange note of defiance in her voice. "Your father wants me to go as a representative of the family."

A cold smile touched my lips. The gala. The place where, in the original novel, Sarah and her accomplice, Mark Davies, would further cement their victory and Olivia's humiliation. They were planning a big move there. And now, she was walking right into it.

I finally turned to look at her. "That's a bad idea, Olivia. A very bad idea. If you know what's good for you, you'll stay home."

My warning was genuine. As much as I wanted to be free of her and this entire mess, a part of me, the logical part, didn't want to see anyone get so completely destroyed by a scheme they couldn't see.

But her pride was stung. She saw my warning not as advice, but as another attempt to control her.

"I'm not your wife anymore, Liam," she said, lifting her chin. "You don't get to tell me what to do. I'll be there."

"Fine," I said with a shrug. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

I walked out of the mansion and didn't look back. The air of the night felt crisp and clean. I was free. I had no money, no family, no company. All I had was the mind of Ethan Miller and a body that used to belong to Liam Stone.

It was more than enough.

[He's really doing it. He's walking away from everything.]

[This is either the stupidest or the most badass thing I've ever seen.]

[The gala! He warned her about the gala! He knows something!]

[Oh my god, I can't wait for the gala. This is going to be epic!]

The audience was no longer demanding the old story. They were hooked on the new one. The one I was about to write.