Chapter 2

I didn’t know how far I ran. The cold night air bit at my cheeks like shards of ice—sharp and unforgiving—but it barely touched the firestorm inside me, an inferno scorching every inch of my skin, every beat of my heart. Josie’s voice trailed behind me, fractured and weak, swallowed by the night. I couldn’t stop, even as my body begged me to.

My legs buckled near a deserted alley, muscles trembling, refusing to carry me any farther. I collapsed onto the cracked concrete, the rough ground digging into my palms, scraping away the last of my strength. My chest felt like it was being crushed under a thousand invisible hands, each breath shallow and ragged. The rose—wilted and torn—slipped from my fingers and landed at my feet. It felt like my soul had shattered into a million fragments.

Josie. Becca. Ryder. Max.

Their laughter echoed inside my head, sharp and cruel, slicing through what was left of my hope.

I was the fool.

The puppet.

The joke.

His phrases—“pick-me,” “man-pleaser,” “puppet”—curled like poison in my mind, a perverse incantation I couldn’t unhear. They cut deeper than the cold, sharper than any wound I’d ever known.

I clutched my stomach and gasped for air. Would he have harmed a child too, if one had existed? The thought slammed into me like a tidal wave. Desperate for something solid, my fists clenched tight, nails piercing into my skin. I shut my eyes and saw that rainy afternoon—the way his eyes had shone, warm and full of lies.

“You’d be a great mom,” he’d whispered, brushing hair from my face. “A daughter with your smile.”

I had swallowed that lie whole, a fragile seed of hope blooming in my chest. Now it was ash.

A sharp buzz broke the silence. My phone. I had stolen it from Josie’s coat in the chaos and hit record earlier when we sat down—right before I’d excused myself to use the bathroom. My fingers trembled as I unlocked it, tears blurring the screen. I searched for answers. For anything to fill the burning hole inside me.

Instead, I heard it—his voice. Becca’s voice. Cruel and cold.

Pizza: “When do we tell her?”

Josie: “Let her figure it out. Divorce’s easier that way.”

Pizza: “She’ll snap. What if she calls Veron?”

Josie: “She won’t. She thinks he hates her. Just like I planned.”

A strangled sound escaped my throat. My body shook with sobs. I had been poisoned against my own brother. My only family.

I remembered Josie’s whispers behind closed doors, warnings dressed as concern.

“I don’t trust Veron. He’s too controlling. It’s us against the world.”

I had believed him. I wanted to believe him. But it was a cage. A beautiful lie.

A sharp click of heels broke the stillness. I turned toward the sound, breath catching.

Becca.

She stepped from the shadows like a viper—arms crossed, smile razor-sharp.

“Looking for sympathy? You lost that the moment you left,” she sneered.

The words struck like a blow. My voice cracked as I asked, “How long? How long have you two been planning this?”

Her eyes flashed with victory. “Since before you even said ‘I do.’ Josie was mine all along. You were just a detour.”

She tossed something at my feet. A flash drive.

“Watch your anniversary video. The part where he says he never loved you? Priceless.”

I picked it up, numb. The weight of it sank deep into my bones. I wanted to scream, to fight, to tell her she had twisted everything—but I only watched her disappear into the dark, wondering how long she’d been following me.

---

Back home, I slammed my laptop open, shoved the drive into the port, and locked the door behind me. My heart pounded like war drums as the video loaded.

There he was—Josie—laughing in a luxury suite, champagne in hand.

But I wasn’t there.

Becca was.

His voice rang clear: “To freedom. One last act, and she’s out of our lives.”

My hands shook. The room spun. Air thickened around me like fog. “How could Josie be so cruel?” I muttered, sobbing like a wounded animal.

I wasn’t just betrayed. I was erased. Replaced.

The silence pressed in like a noose. I had to move—had to do something before Josie came home.

I scrambled for my phone. Beneath the folds of my ruffled bag, I found it. I powered it on, and one name lit up the screen.

Veron.

Six years. Six years of silence.

My thumb hovered.

What if he hates me?

What if I’m too broken?

What if I’m truly alone?

I hesitated, heart hammering.

Then—I pressed it.

“Veron?” My voice trembled. Barely a whisper.

Silence. Long enough for my breath to hitch.

Then, “Liana?”

His voice. Cold. Composed. But beneath the ice—I heard it. A flicker. Recognition. Maybe even... relief?

“Yeah,” I whispered. “It’s me.”

Another pause.

“It’s been a while.”

Memories crashed into me. Veron teaching me to ride a bike. Laughing with chocolate on our faces. Protecting me from our parents’ fights. And then—his eyes the night I left. Full of hurt. Of betrayal.

“I didn’t think you’d answer,” I said, brittle.

“I almost didn’t.”

Silence again. Thicker this time.

“How are you?” I asked, stupidly.

“I’m fine,” he said. Sharp. Distant. “You sound... broken.”

That broke me. My control snapped, and the sobs poured out like rain from a busted dam.

“I’m not okay, Veron,” I choked. “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I want to come home.”

His voice shifted. “Home?” He said it like it hurt to hear.

I swallowed. “I left everything. Josie. The marriage. The lies. I’ve been lying to myself for years.”

“Why now?” he asked, and I heard it—that pain. That old wound I left behind.

Because I saw what Josie truly was.

Because I’m afraid of who I’ve become.

Because the only person who ever truly saw me... was you.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I just... I can’t do this alone anymore.”

Another silence. But it felt different. Less icy.

“Do you really want to come back, Liana? You left us like we didn’t matter.”

His words sliced through me.

“I was young. Stupid. I thought I could fix myself by running away.”

“You were wrong.”

“I know.”

He sighed. Softer. Like an old bruise being pressed.

“Where are you?”

“Rome. Villa Borghese. Alone.”

“Stay there. I’m sending someone.”

“Who?”

“His name is Dylan. He’ll find you.”

“Veron—”

“Don’t hang up. Not yet.”

Something cracked in his voice. The frost thawed—for just a second.

“You disappeared, Liana. For six years, I kept waiting for a call that never came. You have no idea what that did to me.”

“I do,” I whispered. “Because I was waiting too. I just never had the courage.”

“Do you have it now?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

The line went quiet. Then—

“I’ll see you soon,” he said.

Click.

---

I sat under the moonlight, alone in the garden. I checked Instagram to distract myself.

A mistake.

There it was—Josie, smiling beside Becca. In front of her house. His arm around her waist like it had always belonged there.

Caption: My man of my dreams.

Two hours ago, I’d left him in tears. Now this?

I deleted his number with shaking fingers. Yanked my wedding ring off and flung it into the bushes.

He was never mine. He just made me believe he was.

Footsteps echoed down the path. I sat up, heart thudding, breath quickening.

A man emerged from the shadows. Tall. Broad shoulders. Clean-cut jaw. Dressed in black. Silent but dangerous.

I froze.

“Liana?” he asked.

“Yes?” My voice came out small.

“Dylan. Veron sent me.”

His voice was low, unreadable. His eyes swept the surroundings like a soldier trained to kill.

“We need to move.”

I hesitated. Something about him was too calm. Too sharp.

But I followed anyway. Like a sheep trailing its shepherd into the dark..