Chapter 1Night before my wedding, I caught Liam screwing my best friend. I lost it completely. Fucked all three of his boys—left evidence everywhere.
His desk. His Porsche. His office.
When Liam found out, he just lit a cigarette and hit up the group chat.
"Y'all tapped that? How'd she ride?"
They laughed like it was nothing.
"Pussy's tight, not gonna lie."
"Meh. My side bitch is way better."
"She just laid there. Bro, you never trained her?"
My revenge was their joke. He didn't give a shit.
I cracked. Went insane. He threw me in a psych ward.
One year later, I'm out. A Bentley pulls up—Liam's here.
He came back for me. Too bad I'm done feeling anything.
The nurse cracked the door open. "Miss Pray, you're all set. Mr. Crawford signed you out."
I nodded. Didn't feel a thing.
On my way out, voices drifted from behind the nurse's station.
"God, that's so sad. Her own fiancé broke her like that."
"Sad? Are you kidding? The guy's a ten with a black card. So what if he fucks around? She's not getting beat. Just shut up and enjoy the ride. What a drama queen."
A year ago, I would've screamed. Now? Couldn't even make me blink.
Liam was outside, leaning against his Bentley.
I walked over.
He reached for my face. "You're too skinny."
I turned my head. His hand dropped.
He pulled open the passenger door. "Get in."
There was lipstick on the seat. Claire's brand.
Liam grabbed it and flicked it out the window. "My assistant's a mess. Ignore it."
I smiled. Sure, Liam. Whatever you say.
At a red light, his fingers tapped the steering wheel.
"I ended things with her. Tossed that couch. Got you a new one—your style."
"Mm."
"Your stuff's untouched. Maids keep it clean."
"Thanks."
He shot me a look. Something dark flickered in his eyes.
Then he pulled out a velvet box. "New ring. Bigger rock. You'll love it."
I didn't take it. "Let's not get married."
He tossed it in my lap anyway.
"Enough with the tantrum. I banged your friend, you banged my boys. You're up two. We're square."
He leaned back. "Mrs. Crawford's yours. I promised you that. Stop being difficult."
I stared at the box in my hands.
Wasn't throwing a tantrum. I was just done. Ready to disappear to that quiet village where Mom and Dad are buried.
No Liam. No pain.
The car pulled up to the villa.
Everything looked the same.
I dragged my suitcase past our bedroom, straight to the guest room.
Liam stepped in front of me. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Got used to sleeping alone." I glanced back at our room. "And I don't want that bed anymore."
The day I found out about him and Claire, I pulled the security footage. They didn't just use the couch. They fucked in my Hello Kitty bed too—the one I had custom-made.
Watching that nearly killed me.
Liam stared, then let out a cold laugh. "Fine. Whatever. Just don't land yourself back in the nuthouse."
I watched him walk away.
That familiar ache in my chest? Gone.
Guess the therapy worked. I'd forgotten what it felt like—heart pounding for him, emotions riding his every word.
That night, I couldn't sleep.
After a year on those hard hospital cots, this soft mattress felt all wrong.
Chapter 2
A whole year locked up, and Liam never showed his face.
I was losing it. Begged doctors, nurses—anyone. Threatened to hurt myself just to get them to let me call him.
Over and over and over.
He never answered. Not once.
Eventually, I stopped trying. Got better. Stopped caring.
Middle of the night, I woke up thirsty.
Headed downstairs for water.
That's when I heard him out on the balcony.
"Yeah, sweetheart. Hit up the auction tomorrow—buy whatever catches your eye. Price doesn't matter. I know, babe, I know. Been crazy busy. I'll make it right."
That tone. All honey and warmth.
Used to be mine.
I stood there, glass in hand. Listened for a bit.
I felt absolutely nothing, started to turn back.
"Claudia? How long have you been standing there?"
He'd already hung up. Tried to explain. "I was just—"
"Thirsty. Just getting water. Keep doing your thing."
He moved toward me, hand reaching out.
I was already gone, heading back upstairs.
Could feel his eyes following me the whole way up.
Morning. Breakfast table.
Liam slid a glass of milk in front of me. Like always.
I used to drink it every time. He'd watch me with that soft smile.
Not today. I poured myself water instead.
His smile died on his face. He didn't push it.
Grabbed his jacket, heading out. "Got some business to handle."
"Cool."
Stopped at the door. Looked back. "That's it? Nothing else?"
Once upon a time, I would've grilled him. Where? How long? Who with?
Don't know when I turned into that girl—paranoid, terrified he'd leave.
Don't care anymore.
"Nope."
He stood there. Walked out.
Once he left, I went upstairs to pack.
Not much worth bringing.
Hospital clothes? Hell no. Just looking at them brought back the pain.
Grabbed the photo of Mom and Dad. Tucked it in my suitcase.
Found my journal from the hospital.
Flipped through. One sentence per page.
Called him again. 180 times now. Still nothing.
Treatment fucking killed today.
Miss Mom and Dad so much. Nobody loves me. Not even him anymore.
Birthday today. Nobody remembered.
Three days without thinking about him. Doctor says I'm almost healed.
Snapped it shut. Threw it in the trash.
Liam came back quick. Had his three boys with him.
They holed up in his study. Business talk.
Door wasn't shut all the way. Could hear everything from the couch.
"So, boss man, how's domestic life treating you?" Ethan. The "flexible as hell" guy.
Liam's voice came out flat. "It's fine."
Marcus jumped in. "She looks way more stable now. Saw her reading in the living room earlier, totally chill. Honestly thought she'd flip when she saw us."
Ethan snorted. "Yo, real talk though—your girl Claire's getting ballsy. Dropped seven million on a necklace at the auction today like it was nothing. And now she's running around telling everyone you bought it for her."
Chapter 3
Liam's voice drifted out. "She likes it. That's enough."
Marcus snorted. "Bro, your girl's gonna find out. You just got her out of the psych ward—don't send her ass right back."
Liam sounded bored. "So she finds out. She'll cry, scream, then get over it. Same shit every time. Honestly, it's exhausting."
Like it was routine. Like I was predictable.
Then Dylan—the "you never trained her" guy—chimed in. "Not gonna lie, she's easier on the eyes now. At least she's not throwing tantrums. You work on her since she got back? Still frigid?"
"Enough." Ice in Liam's voice.
Dead silence.
I sat on the couch, book in hand. Felt nothing.
Marcus came out first. Walked over, looked me up and down. Lips curled into a smirk. "Miss Pray. Looking healthy. Want a round two?"
I didn't answer.
He dropped next to me on the couch. "That night last year? Still think about it."
Dylan and Ethan filed out behind him.
Ethan's eyes dragged down to my waist. Shot Marcus a grin. "She's way skinnier now. Wonder if she's still as tight."
Dylan scoffed. "No wonder Liam's over it. Girl's got zero personality. Like screwing a corpse."
Liam came out last. Looked at me. "Event tonight. Get ready. You're coming. You're my fiancée. Clear?"
"When does it end?"
He frowned, like the question confused him. "Ten."
My flight left at eleven.
I nodded.
His boys smirked at each other.
At the party, Liam paraded me around. Introduced me to his circle.
Didn't need to. Everyone knew the story. The psycho fiancée who banged his friends. The one he had committed.
They smiled at Liam. Looked at me like I was a wounded animal.
I smiled back. Didn't give a damn.
"Liam!" Claire's voice, sweet as poison.
She glided over, locked her arm through his. "Thank you, baby."
Pushed her chest out.
That seven-million-dollar necklace caught every light in the room.
Liam didn't even blink. Smiled at her. "As long as you're happy."
Like I was invisible.
Bile rose in my throat. I slipped my arm out of his. "Bathroom."
He leaned close, voice low. "You wanna make a scene? Do it at home. Not here. Don't take long."
"Mm."
I went to the bathroom and puked my guts out.
Head spinning. For a second, I was back in that white room—nurses forcing my jaw open, shoving pills down my throat.
At least that was over. At least I'd never go back.
On my way out, I passed the terrace.
Marcus and Dylan were out there, smoking.
Saw me. Started talking.
Marcus blew out a ring. "Look at her. She's barely keeping it together. Bet she's seething right now."
Dylan laughed. "Claire's got balls, wearing that thing out here. Probably trying to push her over the edge again.
