Chapter 3

The rage was a fire in my veins, burning away the despair. I stormed out of the hospital, leaving a bewildered Emily behind. I had to see him. I had to confront him.

I took a taxi back to his gleaming tower of a building, the fifty-thousand-dollar check still clutched in my hand. I didn't have a plan. I just had a raw, screaming need for him to know the truth.

I bypassed the front desk, ignoring the security guard's shout, and took the private elevator straight to the top floor. I burst into his office without knocking.

Liam was on the phone, but he looked up, a flash of annoyance crossing his face before it settled back into that cold, controlled mask. He held up a finger, motioning for me to wait.

I walked straight to his desk and slammed my hands down on the polished wood. "We need to talk. Now."

He ended his call with a clipped goodbye and leaned back, steepling his fingers. "Chloe. To what do I owe the pleasure? Did you forget something?" His eyes flickered to the check in my hand.

"You knew," I accused, my voice shaking with fury. "You knew fifty thousand wasn't enough. You knew my father's condition was worse. This was all just a game to you, wasn't it? To give me a little bit of hope before snatching it away?"

He shrugged, a casual, dismissive gesture that made my blood boil. "Business is about leverage, Chloe. I simply made you an offer based on the information I had. Your father's health is not my concern."

"Not your concern?" I cried, my voice rising. "You built your entire life, this whole damn company, on my concern! You were nothing! A broke, struggling student with a failing project, and I saved you!"

He stared at me, his expression unreadable. "I'm not sure what delusions you're entertaining, but my success is my own."

Just then, the door opened, and Sarah walked in, carrying a tray with two cups of coffee. She stopped short, her eyes widening in feigned surprise. "Oh, I'm so sorry. Am I interrupting?"

"No, Sarah, come in," Liam said, his voice softening as he looked at her. "Chloe was just leaving."

Sarah glided over, placing a cup in front of Liam. She looked at me, her face a mask of sweet concern. "Chloe, are you alright? You look upset. Is it about your father? Liam told me, it's just so tragic."

Her fake sympathy was more infuriating than Liam's open cruelty. "Stay out of this, Sarah," I snapped.

"Don't talk to her that way," Liam warned, his voice turning to steel. "Sarah is sensitive. She feels for your situation."

"My situation?" I laughed, a harsh, broken sound. "The situation you created? The situation she is complicit in?"

Sarah's lower lip trembled. "I... I don't know what you mean. Liam is just trying to help you."

I turned my fury back on Liam. "You want to know how you got your start? You want to know who your anonymous benefactor was? It was me! I sold my award-winning design, the single most important thing I had ever created, and I gave you every penny. I sacrificed my own future for yours!"

The room was silent for a moment. Liam' s face was a blank slate. He didn't believe me. He thought I was a desperate, hysterical woman making up stories.

"You're lying," he said finally, his voice flat. "You're pathetic, Chloe. Making up these fantasies to try and what? Guilt me into giving you more money?"

I felt a wave of nausea. He was so convinced of his own narrative, of my supposed betrayal, that the truth was just noise to him. He was unreachable, lost in his own hatred.

"I have nothing left to lose, Liam," I said, my voice dropping to a low, dangerous whisper. "But I will not let you do this. I will not be your pawn."

He stood up then, walking around the desk until he was standing right in front of me. He was taller than I remembered, more imposing. He looked down at me, his eyes filled with a cold, triumphant fire.

"You don't have a choice," he said softly, his breath ghosting across my face. "You took the check. You made a deal. You will marry Mr. Maxwell, or I will personally call the hospital and ensure your father is moved to the public ward. I will make sure he gets no treatment at all. I will watch him die, and I will send you the bill for the funeral."

The threat was so raw, so vile, it stole the air from my lungs. I could feel the blood drain from my face. He meant it. Every single word.

He reached out and brushed a stray strand of hair from my cheek, his touch making my skin crawl. "You see, Chloe," he murmured, "I always get what I want. And what I want... is to see you suffer."

I stared into his eyes and saw nothing of the man I once knew. There was only a monster, a creature I had unwittingly created. The fight went out of me, replaced by a cold, hard despair. He had won. He had every card, and I had nothing. My father' s life was in his hands, and he was squeezing, slowly and deliberately, enjoying every second of my agony.