Chapter 3

The next morning, the hospital hallway was a chaotic scene. A-list reporters, cameras ready, had somehow gotten wind of my location and swarmed the entrance to my mother' s room, their questions a barrage of noise and accusation.

"Ms. Harrison, is it true your project was cancelled due to incompetence?"

"Are the rumors about your split from Mr. Sterling true?"

"Did you know about his relationship with Chloe Davis?"

I felt trapped, the flashes of the cameras like tiny explosions in my face. My security guard tried to hold them back, but they were relentless, pushing forward, their microphones like weapons. I was already weak, and their relentless hounding made me feel even more dizzy and exposed. They were painting me as a failure, a fool who had been cast aside, and the public humiliation was a fresh layer of pain on an already raw wound.

Suddenly, Liam' s voice cut through the chaos. "That' s enough." He appeared at my side, his presence instantly commanding the attention of the press. He moved with an easy authority, placing a protective arm around my shoulders. "My wife is not feeling well. Please give us some space."

The reporters, intimidated by his power, reluctantly stepped back, though their cameras kept rolling. He guided me back into the room, his touch feeling like a brand on my skin. It was a calculated move, a performance for the public. He was playing the role of the concerned husband, managing the crisis, while I was the unstable, emotional wife.

The moment the door closed, I shrugged off his arm. "Don't touch me," I hissed.

He looked at me, his expression unreadable. "I was helping you."

"You were managing your public image," I retorted. "You created this mess." I was grateful for the temporary reprieve, but I hated that I needed his help, that he could still control the narrative so easily. The brief crisis was over, but the underlying conflict between us was now a public spectacle, and I was losing.

That night, sleep offered no escape. My dreams were a feverish replay of the betrayal, of Liam and Chloe laughing together, their faces merging into a grotesque mask of deceit. I saw my grandmother' s face, her eyes filled with a familiar disappointment, the same look she' d given me the day I left the vineyard for a life with Liam. I woke up in a cold sweat, my heart pounding.

I couldn' t stay here. I couldn' t let him continue to control my life, even from a distance. I had to leave, now. I got out of bed and started packing my few belongings into a small bag. My mother' s condition was stable enough for her to be transferred. I would arrange for a private ambulance to take us to the vineyard.

As I was about to leave the room, the door opened again. It wasn' t Liam this time, but a local man in a simple plaid shirt, his face kind and weathered. He looked confused, holding a small bouquet of wildflowers.

"Excuse me," he said, his voice gentle. "I was told Eleanor Vance' s granddaughter was in this room. I' m Marcus Thorne, from the neighboring vineyard."

I stared at him, my mind struggling to process his words. Before I could answer, a shadow fell over us. Liam was back, his eyes narrowed as he took in the scene.

"Who are you?" Liam demanded, his voice sharp with suspicion. He stepped between me and Marcus, his body a physical barrier. The air grew thick with tension, a new conflict brewing before the old one had even settled.