Chapter 1

I was scrolling through a local city forum, a mindless habit I had picked up to decompress after long days at the office, when a post caught my eye. The title was vague, just "A Warning to a Woman in Tech."

Curiosity got the better of me. I clicked on it.

The post was written by an anonymous user. It described a conversation they had overheard at a trendy downtown café, one I knew well. The user, who claimed to be a former journalist, had a knack for remembering details. They described two people, a man and a woman, plotting.

"He was talking about his girlfriend," the post read. "Something about her being a 'tech executive' from a wealthy family. He was complaining that she was smart, too smart, and that her family was watching him like a hawk."

My fingers went cold.

"His friend, a woman with sharp features and a bitter tone, laughed and said, 'You just need to get her to relax.' They talked about a party, about putting something in her drink. Not to kill her, they said, but to make her 'compliant.' To stage an 'accident' later, or get something on video they could use against her. They wanted her money, her inheritance. It was clear."

A wave of nausea washed over me. It was too generic. It could be anyone.

Then I read the final detail.

"The man was handsome, charming, but his eyes were cold when he thought no one was looking. He wore a very distinctive watch, a vintage chronograph with a dark green face. He kept checking it, like he was running out of time."

I dropped my phone. It clattered onto the hardwood floor of our apartment.

The watch.

I bought Liam that watch for our one-year anniversary. A rare piece he had pointed out in a magazine, saying he could only dream of owning it one day. I had moved mountains to find it for him.

It couldn't be. Not Liam.

My Liam was the man who brought me soup when I was sick, who listened for hours about my work, who held me when the pressure became too much. He was the ambitious, humble entrepreneur, building his own small company from the ground up, always telling me he wanted to be my equal.

I stood up, my legs shaking, and walked to the living room window. The city lights of the East Coast blurred through the tears welling in my eyes. The image of his face, so full of love just this morning when he kissed me goodbye, flashed in my mind. It was a lie. All of it was a lie.

I replayed our entire relationship. The perfect moments now seemed tainted, scripted. Every sweet gesture, every loving word, was it all just part of a long con?

The anger came next, hot and sharp, burning away the heartbreak. I thought about the woman in the café. The post described her as having "sharp features and a bitter tone."

Chloe Davies.

It had to be.

Chloe was an old acquaintance of Liam's from before he met me. She had a desperate, grasping energy that I had always disliked. She was openly jealous of my success, of my relationship with Liam.

I remembered bringing her up to Liam once, months ago, after a party where she had made a series of backhanded compliments that left a bad taste in my mouth.

"I just don't get a good feeling from her, Liam," I had said.

He had wrapped his arms around me, his chin resting on my head. His voice was so reassuring, so sincere.

"I know, babe. She's a bit much. We're not really friends, you know? Just old history. I barely talk to her. Don't worry about her. You're the only one that matters to me."

He had made me feel silly for even bringing it up. He dismissed her so easily, so completely.

And I had believed him.

The whole time, they were in this together. The man I loved and the woman I distrusted were partners in a plot to destroy me. The realization was a physical blow, knocking the air from my lungs. I sank onto the sofa, the plush cushions offering no comfort. The beautiful apartment he shared with me, paid for by me, suddenly felt like a cage he had built.