Chapter 4

The doorbell rang just after nine. Liam' s parents had already confirmed their part in the plan, their voices echoing in my head. They were to be the "concerned" family, ready to swoop in and manage the aftermath of my staged breakdown. The thought of their smiling, treacherous faces made my stomach turn.

Liam opened the door to reveal his "frat brothers." Mike, Dave, and Tom. They were exactly as I remembered them: loud, arrogant, and reeking of cheap cologne and entitlement. They carried a case of beer, as if to supplement the top-shelf liquor they knew I always kept stocked.

They barged into the apartment, their loud voices and boisterous laughter immediately shattering the sophisticated calm I had cultivated in my home. They looked around the spacious living room, with its floor-to-ceiling windows and designer furniture, their eyes filled with a mixture of awe and envy.

"Damn, Parker," Mike said, slapping Liam on the back. "You really hit the jackpot."

"She's the jackpot," Liam said, winking at me. The gesture was meant to be endearing, but it felt possessive and gross.

Dave, a hulking man with a sneer permanently etched on his face, looked me up and down. "So, this is the queen of the castle. You must be good at your job to afford a place like this."

The compliment was laced with condescension, the implication being that my success was somehow undeserved or surprising.

"I am," I replied, my voice cool and even.

Tom, the quietest of the three but perhaps the most unsettling, just stared at me with an unnerving intensity. He didn't bother with pleasantries.

Chloe arrived a few minutes later, gliding in as if she owned the place. She gave me a tight, fake smile.

"Ava, you look... stressed," she said, her eyes scanning my face for any sign of weakness. "You should really learn to relax."

The coded language was so obvious it was almost laughable. The party quickly devolved. The men grew louder, their conversation turning to crude jokes and stories of their college days, a world of toxic masculinity that Liam had supposedly left behind. They treated my home like a frat house, putting their beer bottles on my polished wood tables without coasters, their laughter echoing off the walls.

At one point, Dave turned to me, his voice slurring slightly. "So, Ava, what's it like being the breadwinner? Does it make you feel like the man in the relationship?"

Mike and Tom snickered. Liam just smiled, a passive observer in the disrespect happening in his own home, directed at the woman he claimed to love.

It was in that moment that I saw Liam for exactly who he was. He wasn't just a manipulator and a con artist. He was weak. He surrounded himself with these disgusting, pathetic men because they made him feel powerful. Their crassness was a reflection of his own inner ugliness. He didn't love me; he resented me. He resented my success, my family, my strength. He wanted to break me down to their level.

A wave of pure, unadulterated anger washed over me. The last vestiges of any lingering sentimentality vanished. There was no love to mourn, because it had never existed. There was only a predator and his pack of hyenas.

I stood up abruptly.

"You know what," I said, my voice sharp with feigned anger. "I'm not feeling well. Your friends are incredibly rude, Liam. I think I'm just going to go to bed."

I made a show of being upset, turning to walk towards the bedroom. This was the moment. I had to create the conflict, to give them the opening they thought they needed.