Chapter 5

I woke up to the smell of coffee and the sight of Ethan, fully dressed in a crisp shirt and slacks, sitting in a chair by the bed. He looked tired, dark circles under his eyes. For a fleeting moment, he looked like the man who used to stay up all night with me when I was sick.

"You're awake," he said, his voice carefully neutral. "I had a doctor check on you while you were sleeping. He gave you a sedative."

He pushed a tray with breakfast towards me. "Eat."

This time, I didn't refuse. I needed my strength. I ate the toast and drank the juice, my movements slow and deliberate. I was an actress now, and this was the most important role of my life.

"I've made some calls," he said, watching me. "I've hired a private investigator. A top man. He'll look into Lily's accident again, prove once and for all that Olivia had nothing to do with it. To give you peace of mind."

It was a lie, of course. He was hiring someone to create a report that said what he wanted it to say. He was building a more permanent cage of deception around me.

"Thank you, Ethan," I said, my voice soft and submissive. It was what he wanted to hear.

He looked surprised, then pleased. "Good. I'm glad you're finally being sensible."

A few days later, the "investigator" came to the house. He was a slick man in an expensive suit who reeked of lies. He sat with me, asked a few perfunctory questions, and showed me a fabricated timeline that placed Olivia miles away from the scene of the crash.

I nodded along, my face a mask of weary acceptance. "I see," I said. "I... I was wrong. I've been so lost in my grief."

Ethan, who sat in on the meeting, looked relieved. He believed he had finally broken me, that the "truth" he had manufactured had set my mind at ease.

That afternoon, while he was on a conference call in his study, I began to pack. Not clothes, but memories. I took the few photos I had of Lily and my grandmother and burned them in the fireplace. I took the wedding ring Ethan had given me and flushed it down the toilet. I was erasing myself from his life, piece by piece.

He found me in the closet, holding my wedding dress.

"What do you think you're doing?" he demanded, his voice sharp with suspicion.

I let the dress fall from my hands. "I'm getting rid of it," I said, my voice hollow. "Getting rid of all of it. You were right. Lily is the past. I need to move on."

He stared at me, his eyes searching my face for a trick. "What about Olivia?"

"You love her," I said, the words a bitter pill. "She is your future. Who am I to stand in the way of that? I don't deserve you, Ethan. I never did." The self-deprecation was a performance, designed to appeal to his massive ego.

It worked. His anger subsided, replaced by a smug satisfaction. He thought he had finally won.

"Don't be ridiculous," he said, though his tone was pleased. "But you're right to accept the situation." He stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. I heard the click of the lock. He had imprisoned me again, but this time, it felt different. He was locking the door on a ghost.

Through the window, I watched as he ordered gardeners to rip out the rose bushes I had planted and replace them with Olivia's favorite gardenias. He was erasing me from the outside, just as I was erasing myself from the inside.

I spent the next two days locked in that room. I begged for him to let me out. I apologized. I cried. I played the part of the desperate, broken wife. He ignored me.

On the third night, there was a soft tap on the door. It wasn't Ethan. It was Daniel Chen. He slipped a key under the door.

"Mr. Vance is entertaining guests downstairs," he whispered through the wood. "I disabled the cameras on this floor. You have one hour."

I unlocked the door and he slipped inside, handing me a burner phone. "I have more information," he said, his voice low and urgent. "The investigator... he buried something. Olivia didn't just cause the crash. She was arguing with Lily just before it happened. A witness saw her get out of her car and yell at your daughter on the side of the road."

My blood ran cold. "Why?"

"I don't know for sure," Daniel said. "But I overheard Olivia on the phone. She was talking about 'tying up loose ends'. Sarah, I don't think she just wants you out of the picture. I think she wants you gone."

He was right. I was a threat. A loose end.

"There's something else," he said, his face grim. "The food they've been sending up to you... I had it tested. It contains small, cumulative doses of a drug that can cause infertility."

The room tilted. Olivia wasn't just trying to replace my child; she was trying to ensure I could never have another one. The cruelty was bottomless.

"We have to get you out of here," Daniel said. "I've been working on a plan. It's risky. But it's the only way." He explained the idea of the faked death, the unclaimed body at a morgue, the new identity.

"I'll do it," I said without hesitation. "Whatever it takes."

Just then, we heard footsteps approaching. Ethan.

Daniel slipped out of the room just as Ethan unlocked the door. He came in, looking annoyed.

"I'm going out with Olivia," he announced. "Behave yourself while I'm gone." He looked at me, my sudden placidness seeming to unnerve him. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing," I said, forcing a small, sad smile. "I've just... accepted things."

I knew what was happening. As I stood there, a wave of nausea and a sharp, cramping pain hit my abdomen. The poison. Olivia's parting gift.

I swayed, catching myself on the bedpost.

"I'm just tired," I said, my voice tight with pain. I had to hide it. I had to pretend everything was fine until he was gone. My very life depended on it.