Chapter 3

Liam pulled out his phone and swiped through a few photos before turning the screen to me. It was him and Chloe, smiling for a camera. They were on a yacht, the sun setting behind them. Her head was on his shoulder, his arm was wrapped tightly around her waist. It was a picture of a happy couple.

"The board's PR team thinks this is the best narrative," he said, his tone clinical, like he was discussing a marketing strategy. "We have to control the story, Ava. They're positioning Chloe as the hero's new love interest. It's a story of hope after tragedy. It polls well."

I stared at the picture, my stomach churning. "The narrative? Liam, we are engaged. Or were you 'controlling the narrative' when you put a ring on my finger?"

"I've already released a statement," he said, finally putting the phone away. "It clarifies that we had a professional relationship that ended amicably months ago. That you were a valued colleague, but nothing more."

The public humiliation was a fresh wave of pain. He was erasing me. Erasing ten years.

"And the wedding we had planned for October?" I asked, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "The venue we booked? The invitations we designed? Was that also a 'professional relationship'?"

He had the decency to look uncomfortable. "That's the other thing. The investors for the new AI project... they're very conservative. Family values guys. They were unsettled by the kidnapping, by the idea of a messy personal life. They need to see stability."

He took a deep breath, steeling himself. "I need to marry Chloe."

The room went silent. Even Maya stopped typing. Jax took a half-step forward, his hands clenched into fists.

"I need to what?" I whispered, sure I was hallucinating.

"It's a temporary arrangement," he insisted, speaking quickly. "A business decision. We'll have a quiet city hall wedding, get the photos out, and secure the funding. It will stabilize the stock and placate the investors. In a year, maybe two, we'll have a quiet, no-fault divorce. And then... then you and I can be together again. The way it was always meant to be."

He actually believed the words coming out of his mouth. He believed he could discard me, marry another woman, and then summon me back when it was convenient for him.

A laugh bubbled up from my chest. It wasn't a happy sound. It was broken and raw, the sound of a heart tearing itself apart.

Liam looked alarmed. "Ava, don't be like this. It's the only way. I'm doing this for us. For our future."

"Our future?" I choked out between ragged laughs. "You left me to die, Liam."

"I saved Chloe!" he shot back, his voice rising in defense. "She was terrified! She's just a kid, she wouldn't have survived!"

"And I'm what? A disposable asset?"

He tried to reach for me, to touch my shoulder, but Jax moved between us, a silent, immovable wall.

"Don't touch her," Jax growled.

Liam backed away, holding his hands up. "I'm just trying to make her understand." He looked at me, his eyes pleading. "Ava, you're strong. You've always been the strong one. I knew you could handle it. Chloe... she would have crumbled."

His phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, and his entire demeanor softened. "I have to go. It's Chloe. She's having a panic attack about the press conference."

He looked at me one last time. "I'll stay with you tonight, okay? After I handle this. We can talk it all through."

Then he was gone, leaving the scent of his expensive cologne and the echo of his insane proposal behind.

He didn't come back that night. Of course, he didn't. Chloe's panic attack was more important. I was once again the second choice, the afterthought.

The laughter had died in my throat, replaced by a cold, hard resolve. I looked at Jax and Maya, my pack, my family.

"Get me out of here," I said again, my voice clear and steady. "And find me the best physical therapist in the country. I have a lot of work to do."

I would not crumble. I would not break. He thought I was strong? He had no idea. He had unleashed a storm, and I would not rest until I had reclaimed everything he had taken from me, and more. The pain in my body was immense, but I pushed it down. I focused on the cold anger. Every painful stretch in physical therapy, every grueling exercise, was fuel. I was rebuilding myself, one agonizing movement at a time.