Chapter 4

The moment they were gone, I called my mother's estate lawyer.

"Mr. Davies, it's Liza Fairmont. I need to activate the clauses in my trust fund. Full control. And cease all resource allocation from my personal assets to any of Markus Thorne's ventures. Immediately."

My mother, a shrewd businesswoman, had seen Charles' s manipulative nature long before I did. Her iron-clad trust fund for me was her final protection.

It included clauses protecting my inheritance from Charles if he remarried or had other acknowledged heirs.

Heirs like Chloe.

I remembered Markus' s initial kindness after my mother' s passing.

He' d been my rock, or so I' d thought.

Now, I saw the calculation in every comforting touch, every soothing word.

He was grooming me, securing his position.

My phone pinged. Another anonymous sender.

This time, photos.

A young Markus, years younger, his arm around a teenage Chloe on a yacht, the sun glinting off the water.

Another, Markus and Chloe in Aspen, bundled in ski gear, laughing, snow falling around them.

The captions, in a familiar feminine script, likely Chloe' s: "My true love, Chloe." "Years of stolen moments."

My planned honeymoon spots. The Plaza, a trip to Italy.

They were their old haunts, places filled with their memories, not ours.

The cruelty was meticulous, designed to inflict maximum pain.

Each photo was a twist of the knife, showing me how long I' d been a fool.

The taunts were just beginning.