Chapter 2

Two weeks after I was discharged from the hospital, my leg still in a cast, an email landed in my inbox. It was from my old boss, a man I respected, at the architectural firm I'd left when Liam was first deployed.

Olivia, I heard about what happened. I'm so sorry. I also have a proposal for you. We're opening a new branch in Northwood City. We need a project lead. It's a big step up, a huge opportunity. The position is yours if you want it.

Northwood City. Five hundred miles away. It was an escape. A clean break. My heart beat a little faster. This was it. This was my way out.

I replied immediately. I'm in. When do I start?

Liam, true to his word, had been keeping up a facade. He'd call every day, asking if I needed anything, telling me about the "progress" he was making in his therapy with Scarlett. When I told him about the job offer, I was careful to frame it as a temporary thing.

"It's just for a few months," I lied, my voice smooth over the phone. "The money is too good to pass up, especially with these hospital bills. It'll give you the space you said you needed, too."

"Northwood City?" he said, a note of worry in his voice. "That's so far, Liv. Are you sure you can manage on your own with your leg?"

"I'll be fine," I said, the words tasting like freedom. "It's what's best for both of us right now."

He didn't argue. He probably felt relieved. He continued his show of concern, sending me groceries, arranging for a car to take me to physical therapy appointments. He was playing the part of the caring, separated husband perfectly, a role that salved his conscience while he spent his evenings with her.

I knew because I heard it myself. I had come home early from a follow-up appointment, letting myself into the quiet house we once shared to pick up the last of my things. I was about to call out to him when I heard his voice from the living room. He was on the phone.

"...I know it's hard, Scarlett. Just be patient," he was saying, his voice low and soothing. "Olivia just needs some time. This job thing is... it's a complication, but we'll work through it. I promise. No, of course I don't love her more than you. You're the only one who understands me. You're saving me."

The words hit me like a physical blow. I stumbled back, my hand flying to my mouth to stifle a cry. The air left my lungs. He was telling her he loved her. He was promising her a future. All of his "care" for me was a lie to keep me quiet, to keep me from making a scene while he built a new life with her.

Pain, sharp and blinding, ripped through me. I leaned against the wall, my knuckles white, my whole body shaking. But then, just as quickly as it came, the pain receded, replaced by a cold, hard resolve. I wouldn't cry. I wouldn't break. I would leave. I would get as far away from him and his poison as I could.

The next day, he insisted on driving me to work, my last day at my local part-time job. "Let me take care of you, Liv," he'd said, his eyes full of that fake sincerity.

As he walked me into the office, his hand on the small of my back, my colleagues buzzed. "He's so devoted," one of them whispered to another, just loud enough for me to hear. "Even after everything, he's still taking such good care of her. She's so lucky."

I wanted to scream. I wanted to tell them what a fraud he was, what a lie our whole life had become. But I just smiled, a tight, brittle thing, and let him play his part. The performance was almost over.

We were supposed to have dinner that night, a "farewell" meal before my "temporary" move. I was sitting in a cafe near my office, waiting for him to pick me up, when my phone rang. It was him.

"Liv, I'm so sorry," he said, his voice rushed. "Something's happened. Scarlett... she had a panic attack. A bad one. She's asking for me. I have to go."

I didn't say anything. I just listened to the silence on the other end of the line.

"I'll make it up to you, I promise," he said, his voice pleading. "We'll have dinner as soon as you get back. I'll..."

"Go to her, Liam," I said, my voice flat. There was nothing left to say.

"Thank you for understanding," he said, relief flooding his voice. He hung up without another word.

He always chose her. He would always choose her. And for the first time, I was glad. It made leaving that much easier.