Chapter 3

Maya POV

The crumpled pregnancy report burned a hole in my pocket as I sat on the edge of the bed.

Every instinct in my body screamed at me to run, yet my legs felt anchored by invisible weights.

Downstairs, the heavy thud of the front door echoed.

Liam was home.

It was 7:00 AM.

A moment later, he stumbled into the bedroom. His tie was undone, hanging loosely around his neck, and his eyes were bloodshot, rimmed with exhaustion.

"God, what a night," he groaned, rubbing his temples as if to massage away a headache. "The crisis at the warehouse was a nightmare."

The air around him reeked of stale bourbon and that cloying, sickening vanilla perfume.

He tried to sit next to me, reaching for my hand with a familiarity that made my skin crawl.

I stood up abruptly.

"I think I'm coming down with something," I said, backing away until my calves hit the dresser. "I don't want to get you sick."

He stopped, a flicker of relief crossing his face that he didn't have to touch me.

"You rest," he said, feigning concern with a practiced smoothness. "I need to make some calls in the study."

He walked past me, leaving a trail of lies in his wake.

I waited a beat, then crept down the hall like a ghost in my own home.

The study door was ajar.

I stood in the shadows, holding my breath.

"Stop panicking, Marc," Liam's voice drifted out, laced with annoyance.

"She doesn't suspect a thing. Maya is... she's predictable. She trusts me."

I pressed my back against the cold wall, my heart hammering against my ribs.

"Ava?" Liam laughed. It was a cruel, dismissive sound. "Ava is a fun distraction. A side dish. Maya is the brand. She's the Goldstein wife."

Tears finally pricked my eyes. Not of sadness, but of pure, white-hot rage.

"Yeah, I know Ava is pregnant," Liam said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "It's a complication, but I'll handle it. It's my blood. I want the kid."

He paused, listening to the other end.

"But Maya can never know. She's barren anyway, right? Or at least she has been for four years. This works out perfectly."

My hand flew to my mouth to stifle a sob.

He didn't just cheat. He viewed me as an asset. A title. A placeholder. Broken goods.

And he was planning to bring his mistress's child into our lives while hiding his own betrayal.

I felt a sharp, phantom cramp in my stomach.

I walked back to the bedroom, my vision blurry.

I took the pregnancy report out of my pocket.

I looked at it one last time.

If I told him, he would use this baby to trap me. He would play the devoted father. He would gaslight me into staying.

I couldn't raise a child in a house built on lies.

I picked up my phone and dialed my lawyer.

"Mr. Henderson," I said. My voice was ice.

"Maya? Is everything alright?"

"I want to file for divorce."

There was a stunned silence on the other end.

"Are you sure, Maya? Liam is..."

"I want the papers drawn up today," I interrupted, cutting off his protest. "And I need you to book an appointment for me at the clinic. For a termination."

The lawyer gasped, his professional demeanor slipping. "Maya, does Liam know?"

"He'll know," I said. "Soon enough."

I hung up.

My phone buzzed. A text from Liam, sitting just down the hall.

*I'm so sorry about last night. Meet me at the Goldstein Tower tonight. Top floor. I have a real surprise this time. Happy Anniversary.*

I stared at the screen.

The Goldstein Tower. The building he named after us.

It was the ultimate stage for his performance.

I didn't reply.

I turned off my phone.

I went to the safe in the closet. I took out my passport, my birth certificate, and the small stash of emergency cash I had saved.

I put them in my purse.

I was methodical. Cold.

I drove to the clinic.

The waiting room was quiet, suffocatingly so.

I signed the consent forms. My signature didn't waver.

The nurse looked at me with sympathetic eyes.

"Are you sure you have a ride home?" she asked.

"I'll be fine," I said.

I lay on the bed, staring at the sterile ceiling tiles.

I thought about the scar on my side. I thought about the kidney I gave him.

I thought about the nights I spent nursing him back to health, watching his chest rise and fall, praying he would live.

I thought about the vows. *For better or for worse.*

He had broken them all.

Now, I was breaking the last tie that bound us.

When I walked out of the clinic an hour later, I felt hollowed out.

Empty.

But for the first time in days, I could breathe.

I turned my phone back on.

Ten missed calls from Liam.

I ignored them.

I drove to the Goldstein Tower.

I wasn't going there to celebrate.

I was going there to end it.

I walked into the lobby. The concierge smiled at me, oblivious to the storm I carried.

"Mrs. Goldstein! Mr. Goldstein is expecting you on the roof."

I nodded.

I took the elevator up.

The doors opened.

Music spilled out, elegant and mocking.

Liam was standing in the center of the room, holding a microphone.

He looked up and saw me.

He smiled, that perfect, practiced smile.

"There she is," he announced to the crowd of socialites and business partners. "My beautiful wife."

I stepped out of the elevator.

I walked toward him.

I was walking into the fire, but this time, I wasn't going to burn alone.