Chapter 3

Tears streamed down my face, hot and silent. I couldn't speak, couldn't move.

Case sighed, an exaggerated, theatrical sound for the reporters. He scooped me up into his arms as if I were a cherished, fainting lover. "She's just overwhelmed," he announced to the crowd. "It's been a long day."

The cameras flashed furiously as he carried me back to the car. The drive was silent. I stared out the window, watching the city blur past, my mind a hollow shell.

He didn't take me back to my old apartment. Instead, we drove to a sprawling, modern villa perched on a cliff overlooking the ocean. His new home. My new prison.

He carried me inside and set me down in the grand, sterile living room.

"I want to go home," I said, my voice flat.

"This is your home now," he replied, loosening his tie. "The old place is sold. Don't worry, your things are here."

"My father," I choked out. "How is he?"

Case's expression softened for a fraction of a second. "He's stable. The best doctors are looking after him. I'm taking care of everything."

Another lie. But I was too exhausted to call him on it.

"I know this is a lot, Aaliyah," he said, kneeling in front of me, taking my hands. His touch felt like a brand. "I was a bastard back there. It was for show. For the media, for the investors. To finally kill that old rumor Blair was so obsessed with. Now that it's done, we can be us again."

He promised me a future, a quiet life, compensation for my suffering. It was the same script, the same empty words. My heart felt like a shriveled, dead thing in my chest. What could he possibly give me back? My reputation? My father's company? My life?

"How will you compensate me, Case?" I asked, my voice devoid of emotion.

He stroked my cheek. "Anything you want. Once we're married, everything I have is yours."

I almost laughed. "And when will that be?"

"Soon," he said, his voice a soothing balm of pure poison. "Very soon, my love."

He leaned in to kiss me, but an urgent buzz from his phone stopped him. He pulled it out, his expression shifting as he read the screen.

"It's about the acquisition," he said, standing up abruptly. "I have to take this. I'll be back."

He rushed out of the room, leaving his tablet on the coffee table.

It was unlocked.

My hands trembled as I picked it up. A chat window was open. The conversation was between him and Blair. My eyes scanned the messages, each word another twist of the knife.

Blair: Did you see her face? Priceless. She's so broken.

Case: She's stronger than she looks. But not for long.

Blair: Is the old man's situation handled? The doctors are getting antsy.

Case: Don't worry. I've instructed them to keep him comfortable, but to withdraw any 'aggressive' life-saving measures. A little medical neglect goes a long way. He'll be gone soon, and Wolfe Innovations will be completely ours.

Blair: Perfect. And when you're done playing with your little jailbird, you'll finally be all mine.

Case: Always have been, B. Always.

A cold, deep chill settled over me. It wasn't just betrayal. It was murder. They were killing my father.

I dropped the tablet as if it were on fire. I stumbled through the house until I found the room he'd prepared for me. It was a perfect replica of my old bedroom, filled with my art supplies, my books, my life. It was a mockery.

I saw the framed photo on my nightstand. A picture of me and Case, taken on our first anniversary. We were smiling, happy. In love. A lie.

With a choked sob, I snatched the frame and smashed it against the wall. Glass shattered.

I tore through the room like a storm, destroying everything that reminded me of him, of us. I snapped my digital art styluses, the tools of my trade, the very thing Blair had envied me for. I ripped up the love letters he'd sent me in prison, each word of affection a cruel joke.

The door flew open. Case stood there, his face thunderous. "What the hell are you doing?"

I turned to face him, my chest heaving. "Getting rid of the trash."

"Are you insane?"

"Maybe," I said, a strange calmness washing over me. "The prison doctors said the cancer in my brain might cause mood swings."

His anger faltered, replaced by a flicker of... something. It wasn't concern. It was annoyance. Another complication in his perfect plan.

He tried to pull me into his arms. "Aaliyah, baby..."

I shoved him away. "Don't touch me."

His phone rang again. He glanced at the caller ID, then back at me, his jaw tight with irritation. It was Blair. Of course, it was Blair.

"Stay here," he ordered, and walked out, closing the door behind him.

I sank to the floor amidst the wreckage of my past. A news alert lit up the screen of his forgotten tablet. It was a live feed from a red-carpet event. And there was Case, smiling for the cameras, with Blair Kelley on his arm. The headline read: "Tech Mogul Case Stevens and Artist Blair Kelley: The Ultimate Power Couple?"

They weren't even trying to hide it. I was just a ghost in their triumphant story.