Chapter 4

Elizabeth's voice was still in my ear, sharp and urgent.

"Liv, are you there? Did you hear me?"

"I heard him," I said, my voice flat. "He's talking about me. About Serena."

"What did he say?"

I repeated Michael's chilling words, his confidence in my inability to leave.

"That arrogant fool," Elizabeth spat. "He has no idea who he's dealing with, with either of us."

She continued, "Serena Cole. Her story is that her previous partner died tragically. Left her pregnant and alone. It's all a lie, Liv. A complete fabrication to gain sympathy, to trap Michael."

A tragic loss. That's what Michael had hinted at weeks ago when he started staying out late, claiming to support a "grieving colleague."

Compassionate care. That's how he'd framed his absences, his sudden need for privacy, his hushed phone calls.

The pieces clicked into place, each one a fresh stab of pain.

His "late nights at the office."

His "investor meetings" that ran until dawn.

The secretive new credit card bills I'd questioned, only to be met with accusations of snooping, of not trusting him.

He'd gaslighted me, twisted my concerns into proof of my instability.

And I, blinded by love and the hope for our growing family, had tried to believe him.

The bitterness was a vile taste in my mouth.

My naivety felt like a shameful brand.

He hadn't been caring for a grieving friend. He'd been building a second life, nurturing a lie that was now devastating mine.

"She's been playing him, and he's been playing you," Elizabeth said, her voice grim. "This has been going on for a long time, Liv."

A long time. While I was joyfully picking out baby names, he was with her.

While I was battling morning sickness, he was building her a nest.

The pain was retrospective, coloring every shared memory, every loving gesture, with the ugly tint of his deceit.