Chapter 3

Liv Hayes POV

The whiskey had finally done its work, dismantling him piece by piece.

Michael stumbled into the foyer, his arm a dead weight around my shoulders as I guided him toward the stairs.

He wasn't a drinker. Control was his religion, his armor. But tonight, after the dinner, he had consumed glass after glass, his eyes tracking Selena with a starving intensity every time she moved.

"Careful," I grunted, bracing myself against his swaying bulk.

He stopped on the landing, listing dangerously. He turned to me, his eyes glassy and swimming with unfocused desire.

He reached out, tracing the line of my jaw with a trembling finger.

"Selena," he whispered.

The name landed like a physical blow.

I froze. My blood turned to slush in my veins, the cold spreading instantly to my fingertips.

"I'm not Selena," I said, my voice fracturing. "Look at me, Michael. Who am I?"

He blinked, a frown marring his handsome features. He leaned in close, reeking of expensive scotch and shattering betrayal.

"You're the only one," he slurred. "Always you. Since we were kids. Why did you leave me?"

He buried his face in the crook of my neck, inhaling deeply. "I hate her perfume. I miss yours."

The world tilted on its axis.

He was talking about me. He hated *my* perfume.

I couldn't breathe. The pain was a jagged claw in my chest, tearing open the cavity where my heart used to be.

I shoved him.

Hard.

He stumbled back against the wall, sliding down until he was sprawled on the floor.

"Go to sleep, Michael," I choked out.

I turned and ran. I ran to the guest room, locking the door with shaking hands.

But I couldn't stay there. I needed to know the full extent of the rot.

I waited an hour. The house settled into a suffocating silence.

I crept downstairs to get water, my throat parched from unshed tears.

Then, I heard voices in the library.

The door was cracked open, spilling a sliver of golden light into the hall.

I stood in the shadows, holding my breath.

Michael was sober now. Or sober enough. He was sitting in the leather armchair, rubbing his temples. Selena was kneeling in front of him, her hands resting possessively on his knees.

"Why did you marry her, Michael?" Selena asked. Her voice was sharp, demanding an audit of his affection. "She's weak. She's pathetic. She looks at you like a puppy."

Michael sighed, running a hand through his hair in exhaustion.

"Because she looks like you," he said.

I clamped a hand over my mouth to stifle the scream building in my throat.

"What?" Selena asked.

"The hair. The eyes. If you squint, in the dark... she could be you," Michael said. His voice was chillingly devoid of emotion. "I needed the money, Selena. The Hayes fortune legitimized the shipping lanes. And I needed a distraction while you were in Italy."

"So she's a placeholder?"

"She's a tool," Michael corrected. "A very expensive, very useful tool."

"And the baby?" Selena asked softly.

Michael laughed. A cold, harsh sound that scraped against my nerves.

"The baby is insurance. An heir to secure the alliance." He paused. "If it's a girl, I'm naming her Elena. After your middle name."

Selena smiled. "You're sick, Michael."

"I'm a man who does what he has to do," he said. "She doesn't know. She'll never know. Liv is too stupid to see past the flowers and the jewelry."

"And if she finds out?"

"She won't leave," Michael said with absolute certainty. "She has no one. Her father is dead. Her mother is terrified of me. Liv is trapped. And she loves me too much."

I leaned against the hallway wall, my legs giving out.

*She looks like you.*

Every time he kissed me. Every time he made love to me. Every time he whispered in the dark.

He was pretending I was her.

I was a ghost he was fucking to feel alive.

The nausea rose up, violent and acidic.

But I didn't cry. I was done crying.

I stood up. I walked silently back upstairs.

I went into the closet and pulled out a suitcase.

I didn't pack clothes. I went straight for the loose floorboard in the back where I kept the essentials-my father's original will, my passport, and the birth certificate I hadn't filed yet.

I took the engagement ring off my finger. The heavy diamond that I used to think was a promise now felt like a shackle.

I placed it on the pillow next to the indentation of his head.

I picked up my phone and dialed the number I had saved under "Pizza Delivery."

"Mr. Thorne," I said when the lawyer answered on the second ring. "It's Olivia. File the papers. Legal separation. Effective immediately."

"Are you sure, Mrs. Hayes? The backlash will be..."

"I don't care about the backlash," I said, looking at the ring on the pillow. "I want to be free."

I hung up.

Elizabeth called me a minute later.

"Liv?" Her voice was tight. "Thorne just called the family office. Are you safe?"

"I'm leaving, Mom."

There was a pause. Then, a sigh of relief.

"Good," she said. "The car is waiting at the back gate. Go."

I grabbed the handle of my suitcase.

I walked past the library door one last time.

"I love you, Selena," Michael was saying. "Only you."

I smiled. A grim, terrifying smile.

"Good luck with that," I whispered into the darkness.