Chapter 4

Jessica looked like she' d been struck. "You' re insane, Olivia. Utterly insane."

The Shark and his men watched this exchange with amusement. This was better than a simple collection; it was drama.

I ignored her and turned to the crowd of onlookers. I let my shoulders slump, my face crumple into a mask of fear and helplessness. It was time for my own performance.

"I don' t know what to do," I cried, my voice cracking. "These men... they know where I live. Where Leo sleeps." I pulled my son closer, burying his face in my side as if to protect him. "Jessica," I pleaded, looking at her with wide, terrified eyes. "You' re my best friend. Please, can we stay with you? Just for a few nights? Until I figure this out? I' m so scared."

The whispers started immediately. Neighbors and distant relatives who were watching nodded in sympathy.

"Oh, the poor thing."

"Her best friend should definitely take her in."

"It' s the least she can do, especially now."

Jessica was trapped. In front of everyone, she couldn't refuse. Her carefully crafted image of the supportive, loving friend would be shattered. Her teeth were clenched so tightly I could see the muscles in her jaw twitching.

"Of course," she said, forcing a brittle smile. "Of course, you can stay with me, Liv. Anything for you and Leo."

Victory. It was a small, cold thing, but it was a start.

An hour later, a taxi dropped us off in front of a sleek, modern high-rise in the most expensive part of the city. I had never been to Jessica' s home before; she always insisted on meeting at my cramped apartment or at cheap coffee shops, claiming her place was "always a mess."

The doorman greeted her by name as we walked into a lobby that looked more like a five-star hotel, with marble floors and a massive crystal chandelier. We rode a private elevator straight to the penthouse suite.

When the doors opened directly into her apartment, my breath caught in my throat.

It was huge. A sprawling, two-story space with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of the entire city. The furniture was minimalist and screamingly expensive. An original abstract painting, one I recognized from an art magazine, hung on the main wall.

This wasn't the home of someone with a "modest inheritance." This was the home of someone with immense, obscene wealth.

Leo stared, his eyes wide with wonder. "Wow, Auntie Jessica, your house is like a castle."

Jessica gave a tight-lipped smile. "It' s... comfortable."

As she showed us to a guest room, my eyes scanned everything. I was looking for proof, for a link. And then I saw it. It was small, almost unnoticeable. The coasters on the polished-stone coffee table, the letter opener on a sleek desk, even the pattern woven into the edge of a custom rug-they all bore a subtle, stylized logo. An interlocking 'R' and 'G' .

Reynolds Group.

Mark' s company.

It was his home. Their home. He had bought this for her. He had decorated it with the emblem of the empire he kept hidden from me.

A fresh wave of rage washed over me. It was so much worse than I had imagined. He hadn't just cheated on me. He had built a completely separate, secret life with my best friend, a life of unbelievable luxury, while he forced me and his own son to live in poverty.

He told me we couldn' t afford a vacation. He said a new winter coat for Leo was a "splurge." I remember saving for months, clipping coupons, taking on extra freelance work at night just to buy a used bicycle for Leo' s fourth birthday. I remember borrowing money from my colleagues, my face burning with shame, to cover the rent one month when Mark' s "project" fell through.

All the while, he was here. With her. Laughing at me.

I looked at Jessica, who was fluffing a pillow on the guest bed, pretending to be the perfect hostess.

The hatred I felt was so pure, so potent, it almost choked me.

I would take it all back. Everything they had stolen from me and my son. I would leave them with nothing.