Chapter 3

Lia spent the rest of Sunday at Isla's apartment, curled up on the couch with coffee that had gone cold hours ago.

"You're really doing this," Isla said. It wasn't a question.

"I'm really doing this."

"Okay. Then we need a plan." Isla pulled out her phone. "I have a friend. She works with an exclusive service. Very high-end, very discreet. Celebrities, politicians, people who can't afford scandals."

"How do you know someone like that?"

"I know a lot of people you'd be surprised about." Isla was already texting. "The question is, are you absolutely sure? Because once I make this call, once you book this, it becomes real."

Lia thought about Julian in their bed with Vanessa. I thought about his cruel words. About Margaret's cold dismissal of her pain. About five years of slowly disappearing.

"I'm sure."

Isla made the call.

Twenty minutes later, she had a name and a number written on a napkin. "Her name is Elena. She runs the whole operation. Mention my name and she'll take care of you. But Lia? This is going to cost a few thousand. Can you access that kind of money?"

"My parents gave me an emergency credit card years ago. Julian doesn't know about it." Lia's hands were shaking. "I've never used it."

"Well, this counts as an emergency." Isla squeezed her hand. "You don't have to do this. We can find other ways to hurt him."

"No. I need this. I need to prove to myself that I'm not his property. That I can make my own choices."

"Then call her. Now. Before you lose your nerve."

Lia dialed with trembling fingers.

A woman answered on the second ring. Smooth, professional voice. "Elena speaking."

"Hi. I'm a friend of Isla Chen. She said you might be able to help me."

"Ah, yes. Isla texted me. You're looking for companionship?"

God, what a polite way to say it. "Yes."

"Wonderful. Let's discuss what you're looking for. This is your first time using a service like this?"

"Yes."

"Don't be nervous. We're very professional and very discreet. All our companions are thoroughly vetted, tested regularly, and trained to make you comfortable. Now, what are your preferences?"

The next ten minutes were surreal. Elena asked questions like she was booking a spa appointment, not arranging for Lia to sleep with a stranger. Height preference? Age range? Physical type? Any specific requests?

Lia answered as best she could, feeling like she was ordering a person from a catalog.

"Perfect," Elena said finally. "I have someone in mind. Sophisticated, experienced, excellent reviews from clients. His name is Marcus. Six-foot-two, dark hair, early thirties. Very professional. Does that sound acceptable?"

"Yes. That sounds fine."

"Excellent. When would you like to schedule?"

"As soon as possible." Before I change my mind.

"How about Friday evening? I can reserve a suite at the Azure Hotel downtown. Very upscale, very private. The penthouse level has two suites. I'll book Suite A for you. Marcus will arrive at eight PM sharp. The rate is three thousand for the evening, paid through the card on file. Everything is handled discreetly. You'll never see a charge that says what it's actually for."

Three thousand dollars. Lia's stomach twisted. That was insane. But also, what price could she put on reclaiming herself?

"Friday works."

"Perfect. I'll text you all the details. The reservation will be under the name Chen. Suite A, top floor. Is there anything else you need?"

"No. Thank you."

"My pleasure. Enjoy your evening, Ms. Chen."

The call ended.

Lia stared at her phone, reality crashing over her. She'd actually done it. Made the call. Booked the appointment. In five days, she'd walk into that hotel and sleep with a man named Marcus who she was paying three thousand dollars to pretend to want her.

"Holy shit," she whispered.

Isla wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "You okay?"

"I don't know. I think I might throw up."

"That's normal. This is terrifying. But Lia? You're taking control. That's huge. That's everything."

"Or I'm making the biggest mistake of my life."

"Maybe. But it'll be your mistake. Your choice. Not Julian's. Not Margaret's. Yours."

Lia leaned into her friend, trying to steady her breathing. "What if I can't go through with it? What if I get there and chicken out?"

"Then you leave. No judgment. But I don't think you will. I think you're stronger than you give yourself credit for."

Lia went home that evening to find Julian still gone. She ate cereal for dinner standing at the kitchen counter, then went to bed in the guest room. Alone. Like always.

Her phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number.

**Unknown:** Hello Ms. Chen. This is Elena. Your appointment is confirmed for Friday, March 15th at 8 PM. Azure Hotel, Penthouse Suite A. The reservation is under Chen. Marcus will meet you there. Have a wonderful evening.

Friday, March 15th. Five days away.

Lia saved the number and set her phone down with shaking hands.

The next few days passed in a blur. Julian came and went like a ghost, barely speaking to her. Margaret called twice, both times Lia let it go to voicemail. She couldn't deal with that woman's bullshit right now.

On Wednesday, Isla dragged her shopping.

"If you're doing this, you're not wearing your sad married lady clothes," Isla announced, pulling her into an upscale boutique. "You need something that makes you feel like the badass you're about to become."

They spent two hours trying on dresses. Too conservative. Too flashy. Too Margaret-approved. Finally, Lia found it. Deep emerald green silk that hugged every curve, with a neckline that was daring without being obvious.

When she looked in the mirror, she barely recognized herself. She looked confident. Powerful. Sexy.

"That's the one," Isla said firmly. "You look fucking incredible."

Lia bought the dress. And lingerie. Black lace that made her blush. Nothing like the boring cotton underwear she usually wore.

Thursday night, Julian actually came home for dinner. They sat across from each other in silence, eating takeout Chinese food.

"I have plans for Friday night," Lia said suddenly.

Julian looked up, surprised. "Plans?"

"Yes. I'm going out."

"With who?"

"Does it matter? You said we could both see other people. I'm taking you up on that."

Something flashed in his eyes. Anger maybe. Or possessiveness. "You're bluffing."

"Am I?"

They stared at each other across the table.

"Fine," Julian said finally. "Do whatever you want. I don't care."

But his jaw was tight. His knuckles white around his fork.

Good. Let him wonder. Let him worry.

Friday arrived too fast and too slow at the same time.

Lia spent the day in a fog of nerves. Couldn't eat. Couldn't focus. Just kept checking the clock.

At six PM, she started getting ready. Long shower. Expensive lotion. Hair and makeup done with more care than she'd taken in years. The emerald dress slipped on like water.

She looked at herself in the mirror and barely recognized the woman staring back. She looked beautiful. Dangerous. Like someone who made her own choices and didn't apologize for them.

Julian was in his study when she came downstairs. He looked up and froze.

"Where are you going dressed like that?"

"Out. Like I said."

"Lia." His voice was sharp now. "What are you doing?"

"Exactly what you gave me permission to do." She grabbed her purse. "Don't wait up."

She walked out before he could respond, heart pounding so hard she thought it might explode.

The drive to the Azure Hotel took thirty minutes. Friday night traffic was hell. Lia gripped the steering wheel, breathing through her panic.

She could still turn around. Go home. Forget this whole insane plan.

But then she thought about Julian's face when she'd walked out. The shock. The anger. The realization that maybe his wife wasn't the doormat he thought she was.

No. She wasn't turning around.

The Azure Hotel was all glass and steel and money. Lia pulled up to the valet, handed over her keys with shaking hands.

The lobby was stunning. Marble floors. Crystal chandeliers. People in expensive clothes doing expensive things.

Lia walked to the front desk, every step feeling surreal.

"Checking in. Reservation under Chen."

The clerk smiled professionally. "Of course. Penthouse Suite A. You're all set." She handed over a key card. "Top floor. The elevators are just past the lounge. Enjoy your stay."

Lia took the key card. This was it. Last chance to run.

She didn't run.

The elevator ride to the top floor felt both endless and too fast. When the doors opened, she stepped into a quiet hallway. Thick carpet. Soft lighting. Two doors at opposite ends.

Suite A and Suite B.

Hers was on the left. She walked toward it slowly, key card clutched in her sweating palm.

She stood outside the door for a full minute. Heart racing. Hands shaking. Every instinct screaming at her to leave.

But she'd come this far.

She swiped the card.

The door opened.

The suite was beautiful. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. Modern furniture. A bedroom visible through an open doorway. Champagne chilling on ice.

Empty. She was early. Marcus wasn't here yet.

Lia set down her purse and poured herself champagne with trembling hands. Drank it too fast. Poured another.

At exactly eight PM, there was a knock on the door.

Her heart stopped.

This was real. This was actually happening.

She walked to the door, took a breath, and opened it.

But the man standing there wasn't Marcus.

He was taller. Broader. Dark hair disheveled, gray eyes unfocused and slightly wild. He wore expensive clothes that looked rumpled, like he'd been in them for hours. And he was swaying slightly, leaning against the doorframe like he needed the support.

"You're not Marcus," Lia said stupidly.

The man stared at her, confusion flickering across his devastatingly handsome face. "Who the fuck is Marcus?"