When The Contract Ends

For five years, I was Liam Walker, a hired husband and father in a grand mansion, my very existence hanging on Victoria Sterling' s whims and my sick mother' s need for life-saving treatment.

My days were a relentless cycle of enduring Chloe, Victoria's ten-year-old daughter, who saw me as an intruder and a perpetual punching bag for her grief, often turning physical.

Then came the car crash, and as the world exploded around us, I watched Victoria tend to her late husband's handsome lookalike, Julian, leaving me, her 'husband,' slumped and bleeding in the wreckage.

At the hospital, I heard Victoria coldly prioritize Julian' s life, and Chloe whisper, 'Let him die, Mommy. Then Julian can be my new daddy for real.'

My agony deepened when Victoria, in a chilling display of power, ordered my other hand broken, the one I played guitar with, all while Julian reveled in her affections and poisoned Chloe' s mind with lies about me.

What was I really to them? A ghost, a prop, a punching bag, meticulously broken down and discarded, with no worth beyond my fleeting utility.

But as my body healed, a quiet fury hardened my resolve. My contract was almost up, and this time, no amount of money or manipulation would stop me.

I would escape, take my mother, and build a life free from their toxic grasp, a life so genuinely happy, their future remorse would be utterly meaningless.

A searing pain shot up Liam' s arm.

He looked down.

Chloe, Victoria Sterling' s ten-year-old daughter, had just slammed a heavy encyclopedia onto his hand, the one resting on the polished mahogany table.

Her small face was twisted with a fury that was too big for her.

"You're not him!" she shrieked, her voice piercing.

"You'll never be Ethan!"

Ethan. Her dead adoptive father. Liam' s predecessor in this gilded cage.

Liam bit back a cry, cradling his throbbing hand.

It was already misshapen from old injuries, never quite healed right.

This was just another addition to the collection of hurts Chloe had inflicted over nearly five long years.

"Chloe, that's not okay," Liam said, his voice strained, trying to keep the agony out of it.

"I didn't do anything."

He knew it was useless.

She never listened.

"Liar!" Chloe spat.

"You're always trying to replace him! Mom keeps you around, but you're nothing!"

She kicked his shin, hard.

Liam flinched but stood his ground.

He was used to being her verbal and sometimes physical punching bag.

It was part of the price for his mother's life.

Mrs. Gable, the housekeeper, rushed in, her face etched with concern.

"Miss Chloe, please! Mr. Walker hasn't done anything to you."

Another servant, Thomas, hovered nervously by the door.

"She' s right, Miss Chloe. It' s not fair."

Chloe whirled on them.

"Shut up! Both of you! You work for my mother, not for him!"

Her voice was imperious, a miniature version of Victoria's corporate chill.

"He' s a nobody!"

Mrs. Gable sighed, a sound of resignation Liam knew well.

Thomas just looked down at his shoes.

Liam felt that familiar cold wave of isolation wash over him.

Five years. Five years of this.

His status in this house was less than the furniture.

The click of heels on the marble floor announced Victoria' s arrival.

She swept into the room, a vision in a sharp power suit, her gaze cool and assessing.

She took in Liam' s pale face, his cradled hand, Chloe' s defiant stance.

"What happened here?" Victoria' s voice was low, devoid of warmth.

Chloe immediately burst into tears. "He scared me, Mommy! He was looking at Daddy's picture!"

Victoria' s eyes, the color of ice, flicked to Liam.

She walked over and gently took Liam' s injured hand, her touch surprisingly light.

"Let me see."

Liam instinctively pulled his hand back.

Her touch, so rare, felt like a brand.

He couldn't bear it, not after everything.

Not when it meant nothing.

Victoria' s perfectly sculpted eyebrow rose.

"Don't be difficult, Liam."

Her voice was flat, impatient.

She didn't ask if he was okay. She never did.

"Take him to Dr. Evans," she instructed Thomas, her tone dismissive.

"And Chloe, darling, come with me. We' ll talk."

Liam watched them go, Chloe shooting him a triumphant glare over Victoria' s shoulder.

The throb in his hand was a dull counterpoint to the ache in his chest.

At the clinic, the doctor confirmed a new fracture in his already damaged hand.

More pain, more pills.

Later that evening, Victoria entered the small guest room he' d been relegated to after the "incident."

It wasn' t his and Victoria' s marital bedroom; that space was a shrine to Ethan, untouched by Liam.

A faint, expensive perfume, not her usual scent, clung to her.

Her silk robe was slightly askew, a tell-tale sign.

Liam didn' t need to ask. Julian Vance, the latest Ethan look-alike, was clearly still in the main house.

Victoria had a type, or rather, a ghost she couldn't let go of.

She'd cycle through men who bore a passing resemblance to her late husband, showering them with attention and gifts, while Liam, her actual husband, remained a fixture, a necessary evil.

Julian was an aspiring actor, handsome, and just as shallow as the rest.

And just as cruel to Liam when Victoria wasn't looking.

Liam was an outsider, a ghost in his own marriage.

He was the illegitimate son of Frank Walker, a man who' d only acknowledged him when he saw an opportunity.

Victoria Sterling, grieving and needing a caretaker for herself and a father figure for the traumatized Chloe after Ethan' s sudden death, had been that opportunity.

Frank had brokered the deal: five years of Liam' s life, his freedom, his music, in exchange for funding the experimental treatment that was keeping Liam' s mother, Maria, alive.

A rare autoimmune disease was slowly killing her, and the Sterling money was her only hope.

He' d signed on the dotted line, stepping into Ethan's shoes, a role he was never meant to fill, a role Chloe ensured he knew he was failing at every single day.

He thought of the past nearly five years.

A blur of cold shoulders from Victoria, open hostility from Chloe.

He was a companion in name only, a live-in servant with a marriage certificate.

Victoria' s voice cut through his bleak thoughts.

"Dr. Evans said it' s a clean break. It will heal."

She didn't sound concerned, just factual.

"You need to be more careful around Chloe. You know how sensitive she is about Ethan."

Liam stared at the ceiling. Blame him. Of course.

"I' m giving Mrs. Gable instructions to increase the dosage for Maria' s next treatment cycle," Victoria continued, her tone all business. "A little bonus, for your... inconvenience."

Transactional. Always transactional.

His pain, his mother' s life, all reduced to entries in her mental ledger.

A bitter taste filled Liam' s mouth.

"The contract is up in three months, Victoria."

His voice was quiet, but firm.

"I'll be leaving then. Maria and I."

Victoria looked at him, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes – surprise? Annoyance?

Then it was gone, replaced by her usual cool dismissal.

"Don't be dramatic, Liam. You' re just upset about your hand."

She waved a perfectly manicured hand.

"Maria will continue to receive the best care, here. That' s my decision."

She didn' t ask. She declared.

His opinion, his plans, were irrelevant.

Liam watched her turn and walk out, the door clicking softly shut behind her.

He closed his eyes.

Three more months.

He would count down every single day.

This time, he wouldn't let her, or his father, or anyone, dictate his life or his mother's.

He was leaving. For good.

The thought was a small, hard kernel of hope in the vast emptiness of his current existence.

Liam spent the next few days mostly in his small room.

His hand throbbed, a constant reminder.

No one came to check on him.

Victoria was busy with Sterling Industries, and Chloe, he assumed, was busy being Chloe.

He scrolled through social media on his phone with his good hand.

He saw pictures Chloe had posted: Victoria, Chloe, and Julian Vance at a gallery opening, laughing, looking like a perfect family.

Julian had his arm around Victoria, Chloe beaming up at them.

The caption read: "Best family ever! #Blessed."

Liam felt nothing. Just a dull confirmation of what he already knew.

He was an outsider, a placeholder whose time was almost up.

His resolve to leave hardened into certainty.

When the doctor said he could manage on his own, Liam signed himself out.

No one from the Sterling household came to pick him up.

He took a cab back to the sprawling mansion that had been his prison.

The house was empty, eerfed quiet.

He went to his room and started packing.

He didn't have much. A few changes of clothes, some worn books, his old, battered guitar case hidden under the bed.

His most prized possession.

Inside a loose floorboard he' d discovered years ago, he' d stashed away a small amount of cash, painstakingly saved from the meager personal allowance Victoria provided.

It wasn' t much, but it was a start.

Enough for a bus ticket for him and Maria, and a few weeks' rent in a cheap apartment somewhere far away.

Freedom.

"What are you doing?"

Chloe stood in the doorway, arms crossed, her expression suspicious.

She was dressed in a frilly pink dress, ready for some event.

"You need to go through Ethan's old office. Make sure everything is organized for the foundation's gala. And Mommy needs you to arrange the music for her birthday party next week."

She issued the commands like a tiny general.

Liam just nodded. "Okay, Chloe."

There was no point arguing.

He' d do this one last set of chores. Then he' d be gone.

He spent days in Ethan' s dusty office, sorting papers, cataloging belongings.

It felt ghoulish, handling another man' s life.

For Victoria' s birthday gala, a major charity event, he was expected to be present, the dutiful husband.

He found his one good suit laid out on his bed.

Or what was left of it.

It was shredded, slashed with what looked like scissors.

Ink was splattered across the lapels.

Chloe appeared in the doorway, a smug smile on her face.

"Oops," she said, not sounding sorry at all. "Looks like you have nothing to wear."

She giggled. "I did it. You shouldn't go. Mommy doesn't want you there anyway."

Liam sighed. He should have expected this.

He was about to tell Mrs. Gable he wouldn' t be attending when Julian Vance appeared.

Julian, ever sauve, held out a garment bag.

"Heard you had a wardrobe malfunction, old man," Julian said, his tone dripping with false concern. "Victoria asked me to lend you one of Ethan' s old suits. It might be a bit dated, but it should fit."

Liam looked at the suit. It was a dark, expensive-looking tuxedo.

He felt a prickle of unease. Julian was never this helpful without a motive.

But he had no other options if Victoria insisted he attend.

"Thanks," Liam mumbled, taking the bag.

The suit was a little too big in the shoulders, a little too short in the sleeves. And it smelled faintly of Ethan' s old cologne.

He walked into the glittering ballroom, feeling like an imposter.

He immediately drew stares. Whispers followed him.

Chloe, looking angelic in a white dress, ran up to him.

Her eyes, however, were far from angelic.

"That's Daddy's suit!" she announced loudly, pointing at him. "You're wearing my dead daddy's suit!"

The crowd gasped. People stared openly now, some with pity, most with thinly veiled contempt.

Julian, standing near Victoria, smirked, a clear look of triumph on his handsome face.

Liam understood. This was a setup. A public humiliation.

Before Liam could react, Chloe shoved him. Hard.

He stumbled backward, losing his balance at the edge of the ornate indoor fountain.

He flailed, then fell into the cold water with a huge splash.

The ill-fitting suit jacket hampered his movements, dragging him down.

He came up sputtering, water streaming down his face, the laughter of the guests ringing in his ears.

Security guards pulled him out, dripping and shivering.

"Take his clothes off!" Chloe shrieked, pointing at him. "They're Daddy's! He can't wear them!"

The guards hesitated, looking to Victoria.

But Chloe' s command, fueled by her apparent distress, seemed to override their hesitation.

They started to pull at his wet jacket.

He was going to be stripped in front of everyone.

A gasp went through the crowd.

Liam stood there, exposed, water pooling around his feet, shame burning through him.

Then Victoria was there, her face a mask of controlled fury.

She quickly draped her own expensive wrap around his shoulders.

"What is the meaning of this?" she demanded, her voice dangerously low.

Chloe immediately burst into tears, pointing a trembling finger at Liam.

"He did it on purpose, Mommy! He wore Daddy's suit to mock him! He jumped in the pool to ruin it!"