Maya POV
My lawyer called me at 8:00 AM, his tone grave as he delivered the news. Liam was refusing to sign the divorce papers.
"He claims he was under duress," Mr. Henderson said, his voice dry and clipped. "More than that, he claims you are having a mental health crisis and insists he wants to get you help before you make any permanent decisions."
I laughed. It was a sharp, jagged sound that hurt my throat, but it felt necessary.
"He thinks I'm crazy because I finally stopped believing his lies," I said, my grip tightening on the phone.
"He's blocking the asset division, Maya. He's frozen the joint accounts."
"I don't care about the money. I just want out."
I hung up and started blocking Liam on everything. His number. His email. His social media.
Every time I pressed 'block,' I felt a little lighter, like I was severing the tethers of a lead weight dragging me to the ocean floor.
But Liam wasn't used to being told no.
An hour later, there was a pounding on my front door.
I looked through the peephole. It wasn't Liam. It was two men in dark suits. Private security detail.
"Mrs. Goldstein," one of them called out, his voice projecting with practiced authority. "Mr. Goldstein has sent us to escort you home. He's worried about your safety."
I backed away from the door, my heart hammering against my ribs.
He was trying to force me back. He was trying to control the narrative.
I called my mother. She arrived ten minutes later with a private security guard of her own and my lawyer.
They stood on the porch, a human wall between me and Liam's goons.
"You tell Mr. Goldstein that if he comes near her, or sends anyone else, we will file a restraining order so fast his head will spin," my mother hissed at them, her posture rigid with fury.
The men left without a word.
I knew this wasn't over. Liam was just regrouping.
To buy time, I had my lawyer send a message. I agreed to a thirty-day "cooling off period" before pushing the paperwork through.
It was a lie. I didn't need to cool off. I was already frozen solid. But I needed him to think he still had a chance so I could plan my escape.
That afternoon, a news alert popped up on my phone.
*Goldstein Group Stocks Tumble Amidst Insider Trading Rumors.*
It was the distraction I needed. Liam would be busy putting out fires.
I went to the living room and picked up the first edition of *Jane Eyre* he had bought me. The one he spent a fortune on to prove he loved my mind.
I walked to the fireplace. I struck a match.
I watched the flames curl around the edges of the pages, licking at the leather binding. I watched the words turn to ash.
It didn't feel like a sacrifice. It felt like taking out the trash.
Later, I needed to go to the pharmacy to pick up my post-surgical antibiotics. My mother drove me.
On the way back, we passed the city's private women's hospital.
My mother gasped and slammed on the brakes.
"Maya, look."
I looked out the window.
Liam's sleek black sedan was parked at the curb.
Liam was standing on the sidewalk. He looked impeccable in his suit, his face a mask of cold indifference.
Next to him was Ava.
She wasn't the glowing, triumphant woman from the party. She was sobbing, her makeup running down her face in black streaks. She was clutching a folder to her chest like a shield.
Liam said something to her. He didn't shout. He just spoke, checked his watch, and turned away.
He got into his car.
Ava grabbed the door handle, screaming something, but the car pulled away, leaving her standing alone on the concrete.
A man in scrubs came out and guided a shaking Ava back toward the clinic entrance.
I felt sick.
"He made her get rid of it," my mother whispered, horror coloring her voice. "He cleaned up his mess."
Marc Chen was standing near the entrance, smoking a cigarette. He watched Ava go inside, then he looked up and saw our car.
He smiled. He walked over to my window.
I rolled it down an inch.
"You should be happy, Mrs. Goldstein," Marc said, smoke curling lazily from his lips. "Liam cleaned house for you. He chose you. The girl and the problem are gone."
He thought this was a victory. He thought Liam destroying another life to keep his reputation was a romantic gesture.
I looked at Marc. I saw the rot in his soul mirrored in his eyes.
"You think this is over, Marc?" I asked softly.
He smirked. "You won. Go home to your husband."
"Liam didn't choose me," I said, my voice steady. "He chose himself. And you... you're just the next mess he's going to clean up."
I rolled up the window.
"Drive, Mom," I said. "Drive fast."
