Chapter 3

A wave of pure rage surged through me, momentarily eclipsing the searing pain.

I lunged forward and shoved her, hard. "You witch!"

Ashley stumbled back, her eyes widening in mock fear as she deliberately knocked her hip against the corner of the kitchen counter. She let out a piercing shriek of pain.

"What's going on in here?"

Liam's voice boomed from the doorway. He had just walked in. His eyes took in the scene: me, standing over a cowering Ashley, my face contorted in anger.

"Liam!" Ashley cried, tears instantly streaming down her face. "She attacked me! She's crazy!"

He didn't hesitate. He didn't even look at me or the angry red burns covering my arm. He rushed to Ashley's side, gathering her into his arms.

"Are you okay? Did she hurt you?" he asked, his voice filled with a frantic concern I hadn't heard from him in years.

"She pushed me," Ashley sobbed into his chest. "I just wanted some soup, and she went crazy."

"Chloe, what the hell is wrong with you?" Liam snarled, turning his furious gaze on me. "I know you don't like her, but bullying her in our own home? I never thought you could be so cruel."

"She threw hot soup on me!" I cried, my voice cracking. I held up my arm, showing him the blistering skin.

Maria and the other staff members rushed to my side. "It's true, Mr. Harrison! We saw the whole thing! Ms. Peterson did it on purpose!"

Liam's eyes flickered towards my arm, then back to Ashley's tear-streaked face. He saw the evidence, he heard the witnesses, but he chose not to believe.

"Ashley would never do something like that," he said, his voice cold and final. "I'm so disappointed in you, Chloe."

The words hit me harder than the soup. He looked at me with disgust, as if I were some monster. The man who had once promised to protect me from the world was now protecting my tormentor from me.

A numb feeling spread through me, starting from my heart and radiating outwards, chilling me to the bone. The physical pain from the burn was nothing compared to this.

"We need to get you to a hospital," he said to Ashley, his voice soft again. He scooped her up into his arms as if she were a fragile doll.

He carried her out of the house without a single backward glance.

I was left alone, standing in the middle of the wrecked living room, the smell of soup and betrayal thick in the air. Maria gently guided me to a chair and began to tend to my burn with a first-aid kit, murmuring comforting words in Spanish.

I just stared into space, feeling nothing at all.

Liam didn't come back that night. Or the next. A full week passed. I packed the rest of my things, finalized my travel plans, and told the staff I was going away for a while.

Then, one evening, he returned. He walked in carrying a dozen shopping bags from all my favorite designer stores. He placed them on the table and smiled, a practiced, charming smile that no longer reached his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Chloe," he said. "I overreacted. I know things have been tense. I just want us to be happy again."

He opened one of the bags and pulled out a diamond necklace. "For you. An apology."

I looked at the glittering diamonds, then at his face. It was a performance. A transaction. He thought he could buy my forgiveness, smooth things over with expensive gifts so we could go back to pretending.

"Ashley was just stressed out from work," he continued, starting his litany of excuses. "Her family lost everything, you know. She's not herself. You have to be more understanding."

"Understanding?" I finally found my voice. It was quiet, but sharp as glass. "She intentionally scalded me, Liam. And you took her side."

"She didn't mean to," he insisted. "It was an accident. And you did push her."

I didn't argue. There was no point. I simply looked at him, and for the first time, I saw him clearly. Not the boy I grew up with, not the man I was supposed to marry, but a stranger. A weak man controlled by a toxic obsession.

"I don't want your gifts," I said, pushing the necklace away. "I don't want your apologies."

My coldness seemed to finally get through to him. A flicker of panic crossed his face before it was replaced by frustration. Just then, his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, and his entire demeanor softened. A small smile touched his lips.

It was her. It was always her.

"I have to go," he said, already turning towards the door. "Ashley needs me for something."

He left. Again.

I stood there for a long moment, then walked over to the trash can and swept all of the designer bags, including the diamond necklace, into it.

I knew then that I wasn't just waiting for my visa anymore. I was waiting for the right moment to disappear from his life completely.

A few days later, he tried to make amends again. He said he had a surprise for me, a charity auction gala. He promised it would be a romantic evening, just the two of us.

Reluctantly, I agreed to go. Part of me, the stupid, hopeful part, wanted to believe he was trying. The other part knew it was a lie.

That part was right.

We had been at the auction for less than ten minutes when I saw her. Ashley. Standing across the room, looking furious.

I tried to turn and leave, but Liam gripped my arm.

"Chloe, please," he begged, his voice low. "Just ignore her. Let's just have a nice night."

But a nice night was never part of the plan. Not when Ashley Peterson was involved.