Chapter 4

I walked into the kitchen. The polished chrome and white marble surfaces gleamed under the recessed lighting. It was a space I had designed for holidays, for quiet breakfasts, for a life that had turned out to be a lie.

I wasn't making food for Sarah.

My hands were shaking, and a deep chill had settled into my bones from the pool. I pulled out a saucepan, filled it with water, and found the ginger and brown sugar. I needed to warm myself up, to stop the violent shivering that wracked my body.

As the water began to simmer, sending fragrant steam into the air, Sarah walked in. She leaned against the doorframe, a smug, triumphant look on her face.

"See? In the end, you still have to listen to him," she sneered. "Stop fighting it, Olivia. You lost."

I ignored her, carefully slicing the ginger.

"You know," she continued, walking closer, "Mark told me all about you. He said you're a brilliant architect. It's a shame about your hands. An architect with broken hands can't draw, can they?"

I looked up at her, my blood running cold. Was that a threat?

"You're a clever girl, Sarah," I said, my voice dangerously calm. "You saw an opportunity and you took it. You played the part of the innocent victim perfectly. Mark never stood a chance."

She smiled, dropping the innocent act. "He's a man. All men are the same. They want what's new and exciting. You were old news. I just gave him what he wanted."

"And what is it that you want?" I asked, stirring the ginger tea. "His money? His name?"

"Everything," she said simply. "Everything that was yours."

She glanced down at my hands, which were curled around the warm mug I had just poured. Her eyes narrowed. "I'm going to be Mrs. Johnson. And you're going to be nothing."

Then, before I could react, she did something insane.

She screamed and plunged her own hand directly into the saucepan of boiling water on the stove.

A bloodcurdling shriek filled the kitchen.

"My hand! My hand!" she wailed, pulling it out. It was already red and blistering.

Mark burst into the kitchen, his face a mask of panic. "Sarah! What happened?"

He rushed to her side, completely ignoring me. In his haste, he knocked the saucepan. It tipped over, sending scalding hot water cascading down my front.

I cried out as the searing heat hit my skin. The pain was immediate and sharp. I stumbled back, clutching my chest.

"Olivia burned me!" Sarah sobbed, holding up her injured hand. "She did it on purpose! She said she was going to ruin me!"

Mark' s head snapped towards me. His eyes were blazing with a terrifying rage. I had never seen him look at me like that before. It was pure hatred.

"That's not what happened!" I gasped, the pain making it hard to breathe. "She put her own hand in the water! There are security cameras in this house, Mark! Check the footage!"

He didn't even hesitate. "Don't lie to me, Olivia! I'm done with your games!"

He lunged at me. He grabbed my right hand, the one I use to draw, to create, to build.

"You wanted to ruin her hands?" he snarled, his voice a low growl. "Let's see how you like it."

He twisted.

A sickening crack echoed through the kitchen, followed by an explosion of white-hot agony. My vision swam. The pain was blinding, all-consuming.

My legs gave out from under me, and I collapsed onto the floor. The last thing I saw before I blacked out was Mark scooping a crying Sarah into his arms and carrying her out of the kitchen, leaving me broken on the cold marble floor.

When I woke up, the first thing I felt was the throbbing, relentless pain in my hand. The second was the smell of antiseptic.

I was in a hospital room. My right arm was in a heavy cast from my fingers to my elbow.

"You're awake."

I turned my head. Liam Black was sitting in a chair by my bed. He looked tired, his tie was loosened, and there were dark circles under his eyes.

"What... what are you doing here?" I whispered, my throat dry.

"My flight was delayed. I came back to the city and couldn't reach you. I had my assistant track your phone," he explained, his voice low and steady. "I found you on the kitchen floor."

Tears filled my eyes. He had found me. Not Mark. Liam.

"I'm sorry," I choked out, shame washing over me. "This isn't... this isn't the partnership you signed up for."

"Stop," he said gently. "None of this is your fault." He leaned forward, his expression serious. "Did Mark do this to you?"

I just looked at him, unable to speak, and the tears started to fall. That was answer enough.

A muscle tightened in his jaw. "I see."

Just then, I heard nurses talking in the hallway. "Did you see that guy in the VIP suite? He brought his girlfriend in with a burned hand and he's treating her like a queen. But the hospital records say his legal wife was just admitted with a broken hand and severe burns. Men these days..."

The irony was so bitter it tasted like acid. For years, I had dreamed of Mark treating me with that kind of devotion.

"This is one of Mark's family's hospitals," Liam said, seeming to read my mind. "I'm sorry. It was the closest one."

"Get me out of here," I said, my voice shaking with a sudden, desperate need to escape. "Please, Liam. I don't want to be here."

He didn't question me. He just nodded. "Okay."

He stood up and gently scooped me into his arms, being careful of my cast and the bandages on my chest. He was strong and his hold was secure.

He carried me out of the hospital and into his car, placing me carefully in the passenger seat. He buckled my seatbelt, his movements gentle and deliberate.

When we got back to his penthouse, the first thing I did was ask for my laptop. With my one good hand, I logged into my accounts. I found the online listing for the villa, the one Mark and I had shared.

I changed the price, dropping it to a fraction of its market value. Then I clicked "sell."

An hour later, my phone pinged. The house was sold.

I arranged for the new owners to take possession immediately. On my way out of the city, I stopped by the house one last time. I handed the keys to the new owner, a kind-looking woman who wished me good luck.

I took one last look at the home I had poured my heart into. Then I got back in Liam's car and didn't look back.