Chapter 2

The next morning, I began the purge.

Every gift, every letter, every photograph connected to Ethan, Liam, or Noah.

Mementos from a shared childhood, from teenage crushes, from the ghosts of marriages that had brought me nothing but pain.

I didn't burn them. That felt too dramatic, too emotional.

Instead, I had them boxed and sent to a distant charity auction, untraceable back to me.

Burying the memories, one box at a time.

My focus was singular: Blake Sterling. The wedding. Our future.

I researched his company, Sterling Innovations, his philanthropic efforts, his few public appearances.

He was an enigma, but a successful one. That was enough for now.

The drama with Chloe and her three devoted knights was a distant hum, a background noise I was determined to tune out.

A few days later, I found them on the sun porch.

Chloe, looking fragile and pale, was artfully arranged on a chaise lounge, a cashmere blanket draped over her legs despite the warm day.

Ethan was adjusting her pillows.

Liam was peeling an orange for her, section by section.

Noah was reading aloud from a book of poetry, his voice soft and soothing.

It was a nauseatingly perfect tableau of devotion.

"She's recovering well, it seems," I said, my voice cool.

Chloe started, a hand flying to her chest. "Oh, Elara! I didn't see you."

The three men looked up, their expressions shifting from tender concern to guarded annoyance.

"Elara," Ethan said, his tone a warning. "Chloe needs rest."

"She seems to be getting plenty of it," I observed. "And an abundance of care."

Chloe' s eyes welled up. "I'm so sorry to be such a burden. I told them I was fine, but they insisted."

"If you care for her so deeply," I said, looking directly at Ethan, then Liam, then Noah, "perhaps one of you should take her into your own homes. She would undoubtedly receive even more dedicated attention there."

A shocked silence followed.

Chloe let out a small, choked sob. "Elara, how can you be so... so cruel? I know you're busy with your own plans, but..."

"Cruel?" Liam snapped, jumping to her defense. "She's just suggesting a practical solution. If Chloe is such a concern."

"Elara is just being insensitive, as usual," Ethan said, his jaw tight.

Noah closed his book with a sigh. "Elara, Chloe is our guest. She's recovering here."

"My guest," I corrected gently. "This is my parents' home. And soon, I will be leaving it."

Weariness washed over me. This was the same endless, draining cycle.

"I have wedding preparations to attend to," I said, turning to leave. "Enjoy your... convalescence, Chloe."

I retreated to my private suite, the air thick with their unspoken accusations.

Later, there was a soft knock. Chloe.

She carried a tea tray. "Elara, I... I wanted to apologize. If I said anything to upset you."

Her eyes were wide, innocent. The picture of contrition.

"It's fine, Chloe," I said, wanting her gone.

She set the tray down on my antique writing desk. "I made your favorite Earl Grey."

As I reached for my pen, she "tripped."

The scalding tea arced through the air, directly onto my hand and forearm.

I cried out, a sharp, involuntary sound as the liquid seared my skin.

Chloe didn't stop there.

With a theatrical gasp, she stumbled backwards, arms flailing, and knocked over a tall porcelain vase. It shattered on the marble floor.

Then, she crumpled, hitting her head against the edge of the desk with a sickening thud.

"Elara! What are you doing?"

Ethan' s furious voice came from the doorway. Liam and Noah were right behind him.

They saw Chloe on the floor, a hand to her head, moaning.

They saw the shattered vase, the spilled tea.

They saw me, clutching my burned arm.

"She pushed me!" Chloe wailed, tears streaming. "I just wanted to apologize, and she... she got so angry!"

"Elara!" Liam roared, rushing to Chloe's side. "How could you?"

Noah was already examining Chloe's head. "She's bleeding. We need to get her to the hospital."

They didn't look at my arm, bright red and blistering.

They didn't see the shard of porcelain that had embedded itself in my calf when the vase broke.

Pain, sharp and throbbing, shot up my leg. The burn on my arm was agony.

But their world had narrowed to Chloe.

They lifted her gently, Ethan cradling her head, Liam supporting her legs, Noah clearing a path.

"You're a monster, Elara," Ethan bit out as they passed me.

They rushed Chloe out, their footsteps urgent, their voices laced with panic and fury directed at me.

I stood there, trembling, the scent of Earl Grey and shattered porcelain filling my lungs.

The physical pain was immense. But the pain of their callous disregard, their instant belief in her lies, that was an old, familiar wound.

This time, however, it didn't break me.

It solidified my resolve.

I would get myself to the hospital. And then, I would be free of them.