Chapter 3 Chapter 3

"I haven't been avoiding you, Mr. Thorne," Liv said, her voice even.

He raised an eyebrow. "Haven't you? You disappeared. No calls, no messages. After the... incident."

His gaze was probing, intense.

"I don't love you anymore," Liv stated calmly.

It was the truth. The infatuation had curdled into something else – a bitter understanding.

A muscle twitched in Marcus's jaw. Irritation. Disbelief.

"Don't be ridiculous, Olivia."

He saw the trash bag she was holding. A corner of a sketch, his profile, was visible.

"Is this another one of your games?" he accused, his voice hardening. "Trying to get my attention with dramatics?"

He still thought she was a lovesick girl playing manipulative games.

He couldn't conceive that she might genuinely be over him.

His arrogance was astounding.

"I'm not playing games, Mr. Thorne."

Liv's frustration was a tight band around her chest.

"My feelings were genuine. And now, they're genuinely gone."

She reached into the bag, pulled out a handful of old letters she'd written to him but never sent.

Stupid, girlish confessions of adoration.

She tore them in half, then in quarters, and let the pieces flutter into the bag.

"See? Gone."

Marcus watched her, his expression unreadable but tight.

He probably thought this was just a more elaborate tactic.

His jaw clenched. "You're being childish."

He couldn't, or wouldn't, see the truth.

A week passed. Silence.

Liv had nothing more to say to him.

Marcus, she heard through her father's reluctant updates, remained convinced she was just putting on an act.

He expected her to break, to come running back, begging for his attention.

He was wrong.

A family dinner was arranged by her father's side of the family. An aunt's birthday.

Marcus was there, a guest of her father. Izzy was, of course, on his arm.

Liv was an afterthought, the "troubled" young cousin.

Izzy, however, was treated like royalty.

Marcus's unofficial fiancée.

An elderly great-aunt even pressed a family heirloom, a delicate sapphire pendant, into Izzy's hand.

"For when you officially join our family, dear. It belonged to my grandmother."

Izzy beamed, her eyes flicking to Liv for a fraction of a second. A small, triumphant glint.

Liv felt nothing but a dull weariness.

The dinner conversation inevitably turned to Marcus and Izzy.

"So, when is the happy day?" another relative asked, winking.

Marcus smiled, a charming, practiced smile. "We're thinking spring. Izzy loves the cherry blossoms."

Izzy leaned her head on his shoulder. "It will be perfect."

The new reality was solidifying, becoming official.

Liv excused herself, claiming a headache.

Later that evening, as Liv was packing the last of her things from the city apartment to move upstate more permanently, Marcus's mother, a stern, society-conscious woman named Eleanor Thorne, cornered her.

"Olivia," Eleanor said, her voice sharp. "I think it's time you understood something."

Liv waited.

"Marcus was never for you. He needs a woman of substance, of sophistication. Not a... flighty girl."

Her disapproval of Liv's past crush was clear. It had always been there, unspoken.

"You will leave him alone. You will leave this family alone."

The words were harsh, a clear command.

Liv felt a distant sting of pain, an echo of past hurts.

"I am leaving, Mrs. Thorne," Liv said quietly.

"I'm moving upstate. And then, I'm planning to study abroad."

She had already applied, been accepted to a photography program in Paris. Far away.

"In fact," Liv added, reaching into her purse, "I'm getting engaged."

She pulled out a printed email. A very recent, very impulsive acceptance of a proposal from a kind, stable young man her father had discreetly introduced her to months ago, someone she'd initially dismissed but had recently reconnected with online. A safe choice. A different path. His name was Ethan.

Eleanor Thorne's eyes widened slightly, then narrowed in suspicion. But the email looked legitimate.

A wave of relief washed over Eleanor's face. "Well. That's... sensible."

Suddenly, Marcus was there. He'd entered the room silently.

He'd heard. His face was a mask of shock.

"Engaged?" he said, his voice tight.

Then, to everyone's astonishment, especially Liv's, he said, "Olivia, if you need anything... anything at all... for your new life, I'll provide it. Consider it a... wedding gift. No limits."

Izzy, who had followed him in, gasped. Her eyes, fixed on Marcus, were wide with disbelief and a flash of raw jealousy.

Liv stared at Marcus. Was this another game? Or a strange, possessive guilt?