Chapter 2

My heart felt like a stone in my chest.

Liam' s casual dismissal of our ten years, his easy lie about Chloe, echoed in my mind.

I walked away from him, numb.

That night, I went to Eleanor.

She was in her study, a formidable figure even in her silk robe.

"Eleanor," I said, my voice surprisingly steady, "I' ll marry Ethan Prescott."

The words hung in the air.

The Prescotts were old money like us, their empire in finance and tech a match for our philanthropic endeavors.

An alliance. A strategic move.

Eleanor raised an eyebrow, surprised by my sudden resolve after months of my quiet resistance.

"Are you sure, Ava?"

"Yes," I said. "Please, expedite the plans."

She studied me for a long moment, then nodded. "Alright. I'll call his parents tomorrow."

A few days later, it was my birthday.

Liam appeared at my apartment door with a small cake and a bouquet of my favorite lilies.

"Happy birthday, Ava," he said, his smile a little too bright.

He tried to act like nothing happened, like his Instagram post was a forgotten joke.

"That Chloe thing, it was nothing," he insisted, setting the cake on my counter. "She means nothing to me, Ava. Those feelings are long dead."

I watched him, a coldness spreading through me.

He moved to put the flowers in a vase, leaving his phone on the counter.

It lit up. A text message.

From Chloe.

My eyes scanned it before he noticed.

"Liam, tonight was amazing. I'm back for good this time. I want to marry you. Meet me at our old spot if you feel the same."

My stomach twisted.

He picked up his phone, glanced at it quickly, then slipped it into his pocket.

Later, during my small birthday gathering with a few close friends, his phone rang.

He stepped away to take the call.

"A work crisis," he announced, his expression serious. "I have to go. I'm so sorry, Ava."

He kissed my forehead, a fleeting, meaningless gesture.

Hours later, unable to sleep, I scrolled through Instagram.

Chloe' s story.

A picture of her, beaming, a familiar romantic gazebo in the background, the one by the old willow tree.

Liam was there, his arm around her, a wide, happy smile on his face.

"Our spot," she must have called it.

My birthday. A work crisis.

The lies piled up, suffocating me.