Chapter 3 Chapter 3

The official termination letter from the law firm arrived the next morning via courier. It was cold, formal, and brutal. "Gross negligence... catastrophic financial loss... immediate dismissal." My career was over, sealed by the lie I had been forced to sign.

I went back to the office to pack my things. My cubicle was sparse. A few legal textbooks, a framed photo of my mother, and a single, worn black notebook. Everything else was digital.

That notebook was my real treasure. It wasn't just case notes. It was filled with my research, my theories on experimental legal defenses, my ideas for reforming corporate liability law. It was the blueprint for a future that no longer existed. I clutched it to my chest like a shield.

I had just stepped out of the building, my small box of belongings in my arms, when the assault began.

"There she is! The lawyer who killed my husband!"

A woman lunged at me, her face contorted with grief and rage. She was the widow of a man who had lost his entire pension in the collapse of Sterling Industries. An angry crowd formed around us, their faces a blur of accusation.

"You ruined us!" someone screamed.

"Murderer!" another shouted.

Rotten vegetables and eggs rained down on me. The stench of decay filled my nostrils. They pushed and shoved, their hands grabbing at my clothes, my hair.

"Incompetent hack!" The words were like stones, striking me, bruising my professional pride more than any physical blow could.

Through the chaos, I saw him. Liam. He was standing across the street, his car parked at the curb. He wasn't alone. He had one arm wrapped protectively around Chloe, shielding her from the ugly scene.

He just stood there. Watching. His face was a mask of detached curiosity as the mob tore me apart. He didn't move. He didn't help. He just watched me suffer.

"It wasn't me!" I tried to shout, but my voice was lost in the roar of the crowd.

Just then, a news van pulled up. A reporter jumped out, camera rolling. He shoved a microphone in my face. "Ms. Mitchell, the Vanderbilt Group just released an official statement. They've confirmed your sole responsibility for the failed merger. Do you have any comment?"

The statement. Of course. It would mention me, and only me. Chloe's name would be scrubbed clean, her reputation pristine, protected by Liam's power and my sacrifice.

My eyes found Liam's across the street. We locked gazes through the sea of angry faces. There was no pity in his eyes. No remorse. Just a cold, final judgment.

As if on cue, a man from the crowd gave me a hard shove from behind. I stumbled forward, my ankle twisting, and fell hard onto the pavement. My box of belongings scattered. The precious notebook skidded across the dirty concrete.

Liam and Chloe started to walk away. They had to pass right by the edge of the crowd to get to their destination.

I looked up from the ground, through the legs of my attackers. I saw his expensive, polished shoes walking past, not even breaking stride. He didn't look down. He didn't even glance in my direction.

Chloe, however, paused. She leaned down slightly, a look of faux concern on her face. "Oh, Liam, darling, look at her. She's a mess."

Her words were meant for him, but loud enough for me to hear. A performance of pity.

"She deserves it," Liam said, his voice flat and devoid of emotion. He pulled Chloe along. "Let's go. We'll be late for our reservation."

She deserves it.

The words echoed in my head, drowning out everything else. I remembered a time, a year ago, when I'd scraped my knee after tripping on a curb. A tiny, insignificant wound. Liam had panicked. He'd scooped me up, carried me home, and spent an hour cleaning the scrape with an almost comical level of care, his brow furrowed with genuine worry.

That man was gone. Or maybe he had never existed at all.

A hysterical laugh bubbled up from my chest, raw and broken. I laughed as I lay on the ground, covered in filth. The sound was so unhinged, so mad, that the crowd around me fell silent. They began to back away, unnerved by my breakdown.

A security guard from the building rushed out. "Ma'am, are you alright? Let me help you up."

"I'm fine," I said, my voice hoarse. I refused his hand, pushing myself up with my own strength. My body ached, my clothes were ruined, but my resolve had never been clearer.

I gathered my scattered belongings, my hands shaking as I picked up the notebook. I limped away from the scene of my public execution, ignoring the stares and whispers. I didn't go home. I went straight to the hospital.

The private transfer team Ethan had sent was already there, discreet and professional. I signed the final paperwork, my signature firm this time.

I stood by my mother's bed. She was sedated for the flight, peaceful. I kissed her forehead. "I'll see you soon, Mom," I whispered. "We're going to be okay."

As the team wheeled her out toward a private exit, I sent a single text to Ethan.

"She's on her way."

Then I sent a second message, to my hacker ally, a shadowy figure known only as 'Nyx.'

"Execute."

I was about to leave the room when a voice stopped me in my tracks.

"Leaving so soon?"

I turned. Liam stood in the doorway, his arms crossed, an unreadable expression on his face. My blood ran cold. He wasn't supposed to be here.