Chapter 2

Liam's jaw tightened at her admission.

His brief flicker of curiosity vanished, replaced by a familiar coldness.

"Clean this up," he said, gesturing vaguely at the counter, then turned and walked out of the kitchen with Sarah.

Maya picked up the hundred-dollar bill, its crispness an insult. She folded it carefully and put it in her pocket.

Later, the sounds from Liam's bedroom were unmistakable.

Laughter, then Sarah's voice, moaning Liam's name.

Then, a phrase that twisted a knife in Maya's memory: "My desert bloom."

It was what he used to call her, in their sun-drenched Phoenix days, when their love felt as vast and wild as the Arizona landscape.

He was using their past, weaponizing their intimacy, to torment her now with Sarah.

Maya retreated to her small, sterile room at the other end of the penthouse. It felt more like a servant's quarters than a bedroom.

She lay on the narrow bed, staring at the ceiling.

She remembered their dreams of building eco-conscious communities, homes that breathed with the desert, not against it. She remembered the specific curve of a roof they'd designed together, a line he'd said was as graceful as her neck.

Tears finally came, hot and silent, soaking her pillow.

By morning, the pillow was damp, but her resolve had hardened. She would endure. She would find her moment. And then she would be free of him, free to pursue Finch.

The next morning, Sarah Chen was still there.

This was new. Other women never stayed the night.

The housekeeper, Mrs. Davies, usually tight-lipped, gave Maya a pitying look as she served Sarah breakfast on the veranda, treating her like a queen. Liam sat beside her, attentive, his hand often finding hers.

Maya's status in the household, already ambiguous, plummeted further.

A week later, Liam threw a lavish party at the penthouse.

Ostensibly, it was to celebrate a new Veridian Structures deal, but the real focus was Sarah.

Liam toasted her, praising her brilliance, her loyalty. He presented her with a diamond tennis bracelet that glittered under the chandeliers.

Maya, dressed in a simple black dress Liam had instructed her to wear – "like the staff" – moved through the crowd, refilling champagne flutes, enduring the whispers and sympathetic glances.

"That's his wife, you know. The one he keeps hidden away."

"Poor thing. He's flaunting that PR woman right in her face."

Humiliation burned, but Maya kept her expression neutral.

Sarah found her by the French doors leading to the balcony.

"Can we talk, Maya?" Sarah's voice was soft, almost kind.

Maya turned. "There's nothing to talk about, Sarah. You don't owe me any explanations."

"But I want to explain," Sarah insisted, her eyes searching Maya's. "I've loved Liam for years. Since college. You had him, and you threw him away. Do you have any idea what he went through after you left?"

Sarah's voice trembled. "He was a ghost. He barely ate, barely slept. Veridian was collapsing. He was collapsing."

Maya remained silent. She knew. She'd lived it from afar, powerless to comfort him directly.

"I was there for him," Sarah continued, her voice gaining strength. "I helped him rebuild. I found that investor who saved Veridian."

A beat of silence.

Then, Sarah leaned closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

"And when he got sick, really sick, after you left... when he needed a bone marrow transplant to save his life... I was the one who was a match. I was the one who donated. He doesn't know it was me, he thinks it was an anonymous donor from the registry. But I saved his life, Maya."

Maya's blood ran cold. A bone marrow transplant? Liam had been that ill? This was a layer of his suffering she hadn't known, a secret Sarah had weaponized. Her own hazy memories of a hospital, of pain, were they connected? Or was Sarah lying about this too, just like the investor?

Sarah stepped back, a small, sad smile on her lips. "He's mine now, Maya. He owes me his life, his company. Everything."

She paused. "This party, this is my real celebration. My birthday is next week. And I want Liam. That's my gift. I want you to give him to me. For good."

Maya stared at Sarah, at the desperate hunger in her eyes.

After a long moment, Maya nodded slowly. "Alright, Sarah. He's yours."

Sarah's smile widened, but it didn't reach her eyes.

"One more thing," Sarah said, her voice suddenly sharp. "You need to make sure he completely forgets you. That he hates the very memory of you."

Before Maya could react, Sarah let out a small, sharp cry. She stumbled back, clutching her arm, her eyes wide with a strange, theatrical pain. Then, with a sudden, violent movement, Sarah slammed her own forearm against the sharp marble edge of a nearby console table.

A sickening crack echoed in the sudden silence.