Chapter 3 No.3

The sound of laughter drifted up the stairs.

Hettie's laughter. Light and carefree.

Karissa sat on the edge of the bed in the guest room, surrounded by packed boxes. She had moved in here to give them the master suite. It felt right. She was a guest in this house now, soon to be a stranger.

She could hear their conversation in fragments. Brady's low murmur, Hettie's excited replies. They were talking about the nursery. Blue or yellow? A mural of stars on the ceiling.

Every word was a confirmation of her irrelevance.

She stood up and walked to the door, her body moving on autopilot. She needed a glass of water.

As she reached the bottom of the stairs, she saw them in the living room. Hettie was curled up on the sofa, her head on Brady's lap. He was stroking her hair, his expression softer than Karissa had ever seen it.

They were a perfect picture of domestic bliss. A picture she had only ever dreamed of being in.

Hettie looked up and saw her. A triumphant little smile played on her lips.

"Oh, Karissa," she said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "I'm so glad you're here. We were just talking about the company."

Brady's hand stilled on Hettie's hair. He looked at Karissa, his eyes hardening.

"Hettie will be taking a position on the board," he announced. It wasn't a suggestion. It was a decree. "She has some wonderful ideas for the future of the Simon Group."

"It's not the Simon Group anymore, silly," Hettie cooed, tapping his chin. "It's the Kennedy Corporation now, isn't it?"

"Yes," Brady said, his gaze fixed on Karissa. "It is."

He was rubbing salt in the wound, making sure she understood her family's name, her legacy, had been wiped away.

"I'm sure she'll be a great asset," Karissa said. The words tasted like ash.

Hettie's smile widened. "I was just telling Brady, I think you stayed on as a consultant for far too long after the merger. It must have been so awkward for you, working for him. People might think you were trying to sabotage things from the inside, you know? Holding on to the past."

It was a veiled accusation, a poison dart wrapped in concern. She was painting Karissa as a bitter ex-wife, a potential corporate spy. The very thing Karissa had secretly fought against for Brady's sake.

Brady frowned, not at Hettie, but at Karissa.

"Hettie has a point," he said, his voice laced with warning. "It's better for everyone that you're making a clean break. There can be no question of loyalty."

He was taking Hettie's side. He was questioning Karissa's integrity, her years of silent, thankless work. He was publicly humiliating her, siding with the woman who was a stranger to the company over the woman who had been born to run it.

"I understand," Karissa said, her throat raw.

She turned to go back upstairs, but Hettie's voice stopped her.

"Brady, darling," she said, her tone full of manufactured innocence. "My legs are so sore from all the excitement. Would you mind getting me that special herbal tea? The one Callum recommended."

Callum. Her brother. Her doctor. The only person in the world who knew the truth.

Brady stood up immediately. "Of course."

He walked past Karissa into the kitchen without a second glance. Karissa watched him go. He used to make that tea for her. On the rare nights when the pain in her joints was too much to bear, a symptom of her illness she had hidden from him, he would bring it to her. He had called it "her special brew."

Now, that small, private gesture of care was being given to another.

From the kitchen, she heard the clink of the ceramic mug, the sound of the kettle boiling. Then, Brady's voice, full of concern. "Is this hot enough for you, Hettie?"

Karissa turned and walked back up the stairs. She didn't need a glass of water anymore. She felt like she was drowning.

She closed the guest room door and leaned against it, her body trembling.

This was it. The final cut.

She had been a fool to think any part of their life together had been real. It was all a performance, and now the show was over.

She had to leave. Not tomorrow. Tonight.