Chapter 4

The decision to leave brought a strange sense of clarity. The pain was still there, a constant, dull throb, but now it had a purpose. It was fuel. I moved with a cold efficiency I didn't know I possessed. The first thing I did was go through my room and pack a single suitcase. Everything else-the books, the clothes, the architectural awards I'd won in college-I left behind. They belonged to a person who no longer existed.

Then I took out my phone. My thumb hovered over Olivia's contact. I looked at her picture, the one from the summer fair two years ago where she was laughing, and I felt nothing. I pressed "delete." Then I blocked her number. I went through my social media, methodically untagging myself from every photo with her, every post that mentioned the Sterling family. I deleted my accounts one by one until there was no digital trace of me left. It was a systematic erasure of my past. I was a ghost, preparing to finally fade away.

I was booking my one-way ticket online when my phone started buzzing uncontrollably. Notifications flooded the screen. My name was trending on Twitter. I clicked on a link, my stomach tightening with a sense of dread. What I saw made me sick.

A gossip blog had published an article titled "The Sterling Family's Dirty Little Secret: The Charity Case and His Obsessive Stalker Behavior." The article was a disgusting tapestry of lies, painting me as a manipulative, social-climbing parasite who had become obsessed with Olivia Sterling. It included private photos of me, photos only she could have had. Worse, it included screenshots of text messages, twisted and edited to make me look pathetic and unhinged. They were leaking my private information, my personal history as an orphan, using it to portray me as unstable. The comments section was a cesspool of hatred, with strangers calling me a creep, a leech, a predator.

My hands shook with rage. This had to be Ethan. It was his style-cruel, public, and designed to utterly destroy someone. I grabbed my keys and stormed out of the house, driving recklessly to his office building. I didn't wait for the receptionist to announce me. I burst into his office, my chest heaving with fury.

"What the hell did you do?" I yelled, shoving my phone in his face. "This wasn't enough? Ruining my career wasn't enough? You had to destroy my name too?"

Ethan looked up from his desk, a picture of calm surprise. "Liam? I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Don't lie to me!" I shouted, my voice raw. "This is you! This is your sick, twisted way of getting rid of me for good!"

Just as he was about to respond, the door to his office opened. Olivia rushed in, her face pale and her eyes red-rimmed. She looked from me to Ethan, her expression frantic.

"Liam, stop," she pleaded, stepping between us.

"Stay out of this, Olivia," I snarled. "This is between me and the snake you sold me out for."

"No," she said, her voice trembling. "It wasn't him. It was me."

I froze. I stared at her, unable to process her words. "What?"

"I did it," she confessed, tears streaming down her face. "I leaked the photos. I wrote the post. I did it all."

My mind reeled. It didn't make sense. Why would she do this? Why would she destroy me now, after I had already agreed to leave? I looked past her at Ethan, who was watching the scene with a detached, almost pleased expression. And then I understood. She was protecting him. She was taking the fall for him, offering herself up as a sacrifice to shield the man she loved from my rage. She was willing to become a monster in my eyes to save him.

That was the final blow. The last flicker of any feeling I might have had for her, even anger, was extinguished. All that was left was a vast, cold emptiness. To be betrayed was one thing. To be used was another. But to be cast as the villain in a story where I was the only victim, and to have her be the one to do it, was a level of cruelty I couldn't comprehend.

I looked at her, then at him. I didn't say another word. There was nothing left to say. I turned around and walked out of the office, out of the building, and out of their lives. I didn't go back to the Sterling mansion. I went straight to the airport, my single suitcase in hand. I bought a ticket for the first international flight out, not even caring where it was going. As the plane took off, leaving the city and its web of lies behind, I didn't look back. There was nothing to look back to.