Chapter 3

"It' s pouring outside," Liam said, his voice a low command. "Stay the night. We can talk in the morning."

I looked out the floor-to-ceiling window. A storm was raging over the city, rain lashing against the glass. It was a convenient excuse. It was always a convenient excuse.

I knew him. He wasn't offering comfort; he was asserting control. He couldn't stand the thought of me walking out, of me having the final say. He needed to be the one to dismiss me.

A bitter laugh escaped my lips. "And talk about what, Liam? The weather?"

I pulled my wrist from his grasp, the decision solidifying in my gut like ice. This was it. The final cut. I had given him my youth, my mind, my loyalty. I would not give him the satisfaction of a drawn-out, manipulative goodbye.

"Don' t be like this, Scarlett," he said, his tone hardening. A flash of irritation crossed his face, the mask of the charming entrepreneur slipping to reveal the ruthless tyrant beneath.

"Like what? The woman you' re dumping after a decade?" My voice was sharp, sarcastic. "Sorry if I' m not playing my part correctly."

For a second, I saw his composure crack. His jaw tightened, a muscle pulsing in his cheek. He wasn't used to being challenged. Not by me.

Then, just as quickly, the mask was back in place. He smoothed his features into an expression of cool detachment. It was then that the chime of the private elevator announced a visitor.

"Ah," he said, a slow, cruel smile spreading across his lips. "Perfect timing."

The elevator doors slid open, and Ava Sterling stepped out. She looked fresh, innocent, and completely out of place in the predatory atmosphere of his penthouse. She saw me and her smile faltered, a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes.

Liam moved to her side, wrapping a possessive arm around her waist. He didn't look at me. He looked at her.

"Ava, darling," he said, his voice dripping with affection. "I' d like you to meet Scarlett Hayes. An old business associate."

He turned his gaze to me then, his eyes cold and dismissive. "Scarlett, this is Ava Sterling. My fiancée."

He emphasized the word, a deliberate twisting of the knife.

"Ava is... different," he continued, his gaze flicking between us, a cruel comparison. "She needs protecting. She' s not built for the kind of life we had. You were always so good at handling the dirt, Scarlett."

I stared at him, speechless. The casual cruelty of his words stole the air from my lungs. Ten years of partnership, of shared risk and sacrifice, reduced to "handling the dirt."

I looked at my hands. Hands that had written code that made us millions, that had covered for his tracks, that had held him when the pressure became too much. He had remade me into what he needed, a woman who could thrive in the dark. And now, he was holding that very strength against me, using it as the reason to cast me aside for someone pure and untainted. Someone he could present to the world.

His phone buzzed. It was Ava. He glanced at the screen, and his entire demeanor softened.

"I have to take this," he said to me, already turning his back, already walking away. He was gone before I could even find my voice.