Chapter 2

The revelation didn't just break my heart, it rewired my entire past. My mind, reeling from the shock, began to play back memories, but now they were cast in a new, horrifying light. Liam' s obsession with Sophia wasn' t a secret, I had just been too blind, both literally and figuratively, to see its true nature.

I remembered the early days, before our marriage. Liam was adopted by the Carter family when he was ten, a quiet, intense boy who found a kindred spirit in their daughter, Sophia. They were inseparable. Everyone called it a sweet, sibling bond. But I remembered Liam's office, a room I had only ever experienced through touch. I'd run my hands over his desk, his bookshelves, and the single, large framed portrait he kept there. He told me it was a picture of the ocean. Now, I knew it was a picture of her. I could imagine him, sitting there for hours, staring at her face, his obsession growing in the silent solitude of his genius.

My own love for him felt pathetic in comparison. It had been a one-sided devotion from the moment I met him. I was a Riley, from a family with old money and deep roots in France, but I was captivated by this self-made tech magnate. I learned his routines, his favorite foods, the way he liked his coffee. I tailored my life to fit into his, sacrificing my own ambitions to be the perfect partner for a man of his stature. I thought my sacrifices were a testament to my love, but now I saw they were just convenient for him. My devotion made me predictable, easy to manage.

I recalled a dinner party, maybe two years ago. One of Liam' s friends, a little drunk, had clapped him on the back and laughed.

"You and Sophia are so close, if you weren' t siblings, I' d swear you were a couple."

A chill had descended over the table. I remember feeling a prickle of unease, even then. I couldn't see Liam's face, but I felt the sudden tension in his body next to me.

"She's my sister," he had said, his voice flat and cold, shutting down the conversation instantly.

At the time, I felt a surge of sympathy for him, thinking the comment had made him uncomfortable. Now, I realized it wasn't discomfort, it was anger. Anger at having his secret, sacred obsession spoken of so casually, so profanely. And his coldness wasn't just for his friend, it was for me too, for being there, for being the woman he had to pretend to love in public.

The most painful memory of all was the one that had cost me my sight. It was three years before our wedding. We were at a tech conference in a high-rise hotel. I had gone to find him in one of the labs where he was demonstrating a new robotics prototype. As I entered the room, a heavy piece of equipment, improperly secured, began to topple from a high shelf, directly over Liam who was engrossed in his work.

There was no time to think. I screamed his name and threw myself at him, pushing him out of the way.

The world exploded in a shower of metal and glass. The last thing I ever saw clearly was the look of surprise on his face. Then, darkness.

I woke up in a hospital bed to the sterile smell of antiseptic and the grim prognosis from the doctors. The impact had caused severe trauma to my optic nerves. I was legally blind, with little to no chance of recovery. When Liam finally came to see me, I expected gratitude, concern, maybe even love. Instead, I got ice.

He stood at the foot of my bed, a distant, cold presence.

"That was a stupid thing to do, Ava," he said, his voice devoid of any warmth. "My work is insured. You are not."

His words hit me harder than the falling equipment. He wasn't worried about me, he was annoyed. My heroic act, my sacrifice, was an inconvenience, a disruption to his orderly world. I had done it to protect him, the man I loved, and he saw it as a foolish, emotional mistake.

I was devastated. For weeks, I sank into a deep depression, the physical darkness matched by the darkness in my soul. My brother, Ethan, begged me to come home to France, to leave this cold, unfeeling man behind. I was on the verge of agreeing. I had packed my bags, my heart heavy with the realization that my love was not, and would never be, returned. I was ready to give up on him.

And that' s when he proposed. Looking back now, the timing was perfect, wasn't it? He waited until I was at my lowest, my most broken. He waited until I was blind. A blind wife couldn't see his secrets. A blind wife wouldn't notice the late nights in his lab, wouldn't see the doll in his arms, wouldn't see the truth in his eyes. My sacrifice hadn't earned his love, it had just made me the perfect victim for his elaborate deception. My heart didn't just break that night in our bedroom, it felt like it had been broken for years, and I was only just now realizing it.