---- Chapter 3 When | walked back into the hospital room the next day to collect my few belongings, Liam was there, back in his role. He was sitting up in bed, looking pale and weak-a masterful performance. The suit was gone, replaced by a worn t-shirt and sweatpants. He smiled when he saw me, that warm, gentle smile that had once been my entire world. "Sarah," he said, his voice soft and full of concern. "You're back. They told me you left yesterday. | was so worried." He reached for my hand, and | let him take it. His skin was warm. My hand felt like a block of ice. "The doctor came by," he continued, his eyes shining with fake hope. "He said the transplant was a complete success. ---- He said I'm going to make a full recovery. It's all because of you." | felt nothing. The words just floated in the air, hollow and meaningless As he spoke, his phone buzzed on the bedside table. | glanced down. The screen was lit, showing a preview of a group chat notification. The group was named "Operation Orphan." Tiffany' s name was at the top. Her message read: "How's it going with the poor little charity case? Don't forget, my party is tonight. You'd better be there." Someone named Ethan replied with a string of laughing emojis. "Is she buying it? God, this is too funny." And then, Liam's last sent message, from just before | walked ---- in: "Patience, my queen. I'm just delivering the final act. She'll be gone soon." My eyes flickered back to his face. He was still looking at me with that adoring expression, completely unaware that | had seen everything. The mask was flawless. But | could see the truth now, shimmering just beneath the surface. | pulled my hand away gently. "I'm glad you're okay, Liam," | said, my voice surprisingly even. "That's all that matters." He looked slightly taken aback by my calm demeanor. He was probably expecting tears of joy, emotional declarations. "All that money | gave you..." | began, watching his expression carefully. A flicker of something-maybe greed, maybe caution-crossed his face before he smoothed it over with concern. "Sarah, don't worry about the money," he said, his voice ---- dripping with false sincerity. "I'll pay you back, every penny, as soon as | can get back to my art." "No," | said, shaking my head. "Don't pay me back. | don't want it." | looked him straight in the eye. "Consider it my payment for the last two years. For all the time we spent together. It was worth it." | wanted him to know, on some level, that | was buying my freedom from him. | was severing the tie. But he didn't understand. A look of relief washed over his face. He thought | was just being selfless. "Oh, Sarah," he breathed, pulling me into a hug. "You're too good. You're just too good for this world." ---- His arms wrapped around me, and for a moment, | didn't move. | could feel the steady, healthy beat of his heart against my chest. A heart that was beating strong because of me. He was alive and thriving because of a sacrifice | made for a complete lie. The thought sent a jolt of ice through my veins. He pulled back, a complex emotion in his eyes. For a split second, | thought | saw a crack in the facade, a hint of something real, maybe even guilt. He was so used to empty flattery and transactional relationships, my genuine sacrifice must have struck some buried, atrophied nerve. His heart, | realized, was probably getting hit by a heavy hammer. But the moment passed, and the mask was back in place. We went back to the small, cheap apartment that had been our home. My home. For him, it had been a stage. ---- | looked around at the cramped space, the worn-out furniture, the single small bed we shared. | thought of him, the heir to the Blackwood Corporation, having to endure this. "It must have been so hard for you," | thought, a bitter, silent sarcasm twisting inside me. "Sleeping in this tiny bed, when you're used to a mansion. What a sacrifice you made for your little game." As | was packing my few clothes into a suitcase, he came up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. "What are you doing?" "Just sorting some things," | said, not looking at him. His hand drifted from my waist, moving up my back and brushing against my side, right over the fresh, agonizing line of my incision. | sucked in a sharp breath, a wave of pain so intense it made my vision swim. My face went white. "What's wrong?" he asked, his voice laced with alarm. "Your face is pale. ---- Are you having cramps?" | gritted my teeth, forcing the words out. "Yes. Just... my period. Bad cramps." He accepted the lie without question, his expression softening into sympathy. "Oh, my poor girl. Go lie down. I'll get you a hot water bottle." He fussed over me, his touch gentle, his words full of care. But his warmth couldn't reach me. My heart, which had been broken and bleeding just a day before, now felt like it had completely frozen over. Lying in that bed, feeling the phantom heat from his touch, | knew with absolute certainty that meeting him, loving him, was the greatest misfortune of my life. The connection wasn't just broken; it was a void.