Chapter 1

The wedding was three days away.

I was holding the final proofs for our wedding invitations, the crisp cardstock smooth under my thumb. Five years. Five years with Chloe Davis, and it was all leading to this. I' d just left the printer' s, a stupid, happy grin on my face.

I decided to surprise her. She was supposed to be meeting her mother, Susan, for a final dress fitting. I knew the boutique. I thought I' d just drop by, give her a kiss, and tell her I couldn' t wait.

I parked the car and walked toward the small, expensive-looking shop. Through the big glass window, I saw her. She wasn't with her mother. She was with Ethan Miller. Her "first love." The one who had reappeared six months ago, broke and looking for a handout. The one I had paid off, multiple times, at Chloe's tearful request.

I stopped in the alleyway next to the shop, hidden from view. The back door was propped open for the summer heat, and I could hear their voices clearly.

"Did you get the money?" Ethan asked. His voice was smooth, like cheap whiskey.

"Not yet," Chloe replied, her tone impatient. "He' s so careful with his accounts. But don' t worry. After the wedding, everything he has will be half mine. We just have to be patient for a few more days."

My breath caught in my throat. My hand holding the invitations went numb.

"Are you sure you can stand to sleep next to that boring architect?" Ethan' s voice was mocking. "He' s so predictable. So... nice."

Chloe laughed. It was a sound I thought I loved, a sound I' d worked hard to hear every day. But now, it was ugly.

"Liam? He' s pathetic. He thinks I' m his salvation or something. He' s so desperate for a family, for someone to love him, he can' t see anything. He' s a tool, Ethan. A walking ATM. I just have to smile, cry a little, and he' ll give me the world. It' s been five years, and he still hasn' t figured it out."

The invitations slipped from my fingers, scattering on the dirty asphalt.

My mind went blank, then flooded with memories.

Five years of my life. I had poured everything into her. I was an architect, successful but lonely before I met her. She was a waitress, full of sad stories about her family and her ex-boyfriend who' d broken her heart. I thought I was saving her.

I paid off her student loans. I bought her a car. When her mother, Susan, needed a new place to live, I bought her a condo. When Ethan came back into the picture, claiming he was in debt to dangerous people, I was the one who wrote the checks. Chloe would cry, telling me she was scared, telling me this was the last time, that she just wanted him gone so we could have our future.

I believed her. I believed every word.

Just last week, she had been standing in our living room, wearing the wedding dress I paid for. It was a custom design, thousands of dollars. She' d spun around, her eyes shining.

"How do I look, Liam?" she' d asked.

"You look beautiful," I had told her, my voice thick with emotion.

"I can' t wait to be Mrs. O' Connell," she' d whispered, kissing me. "You make me feel so safe."

A lie. Every single moment was a lie.

I backed away from the alley, stumbling like a drunk. I got into my car and just drove, with no destination in mind. My hands were shaking so hard I could barely grip the steering wheel.

I finally pulled over on the side of a deserted road overlooking the city. The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple. It was beautiful, but I felt nothing.

I fumbled for the pack of cigarettes in the glove compartment. I didn' t even smoke. I' d bought them for a contractor months ago and forgotten about them. My hands trembled as I lit one. The smoke filled my lungs, acrid and foreign. It burned, but the physical sensation was a welcome distraction from the gaping hole that had just been torn open in my chest.

Tears streamed down my face, hot and silent. I wasn't just crying for the betrayal. I was crying for the fool I had been.

I thought back to the day we met. She' d spilled coffee on my blueprints at a cafe. She was so apologetic, her eyes wide and full of panic. She had these two perfect dimples when she smiled nervously. I was instantly charmed. She told me she was working two jobs to support her mother. She seemed so sweet, so vulnerable.

Now I realized it was all an act. The vulnerability was bait. The dimples were part of the trap. She saw a successful man, a lonely man, and she saw her meal ticket. Her entire family was in on it. Susan, her mother, always praised me, telling me I was the son she never had, all while cashing the checks I wrote for her "living expenses."

The cigarette burned down to the filter, scorching my fingertips. I flinched, dropping it on the car floor. A small, black burn mark appeared on the mat. I stared at it. That was my heart. Charred, worthless.

I sat there for hours, the smoke in the car growing thick and suffocating. The sky turned from purple to black, dotted with stars that seemed to mock me.

When I finally drove home, it was past midnight. The house I designed, the house I thought would be our family home, was dark except for the living room light.

She was on the couch, watching TV. She jumped up when I walked in, a bright, fake smile on her face.

"Liam! Honey, I was so worried! Where have you been?"

She came toward me, her arms outstretched to hug me.

I took a step back.

Her smile faltered for a second. I saw a flicker of annoyance in her eyes before it was replaced with concern.

"What' s wrong?" she asked, her voice soft and sweet.

I couldn' t look at her. I couldn' t speak. The sound of her laughter with Ethan echoed in my head.

He' s pathetic. A tool. A walking ATM.

I just shook my head and walked past her, up the stairs to my office. I locked the door behind me, leaning against it, my body finally giving in to the tremors I' d been fighting. The whole world had collapsed, and I was standing alone in the rubble.