---- Chapter 17 The sound of the slap echoed in the silent apartment. It was sharp and brutal. Clara's head snapped to the side, a red mark blooming on her cheek. She stared up at him, her eyes wide with shock and pain. The livestream chat exploded. It was a chaotic waterfall of "OMG," "WTF," and "Did he just HIT her?!" "You," Liam snarled, his voice low and shaking with rage. "You did this." Clara started to cry, real tears of fear and humiliation streaming down her face. "Liam, | don't know what you're talking about! | love you!" "Love?" He laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. "You don't know the meaning of the word. You know about ambition. You know about greed. But you know nothing about love." He crouched down, bringing his face close to hers. "She's gone, Clara. Ava's gone. She left me. She disappeared. And it's all because of you." "No!" Clara sobbed. "I was just... | was just trying to get what | deserved! What you promised me!" "| promised you nothing!" he roared, his voice cracking. "| used ---- you. Just like you used me. We were a transaction. But Ava... Ava was my life. My whole life. And you took her from me. You poisoned her, you tormented her, you drove her away with your pathetic little games." He was looking at Clara, but he wasn't seeing her. He was seeing my face, my quiet sadness in the weeks before | left. He was seeing the pain | had hidden so well. The guilt was a physical thing, twisting in his gut, and he was directing all of it at the woman kneeling before him. "She's worth a thousand of you," he spat, his voice trembling. "She is kind and loyal and brilliant. You are nothing. You are a cheap copy. A replacement that could never, ever measure up." He stood up, his whole body shaking. He looked at the man holding the phone. "Keep recording," he commanded. Then he looked back down at Clara. He raised his hand again. Another slap, harder than the first. Clara cried out, a thin, wretched sound. "That," Liam said, his voice cold as ice, "is for thinking you could ever take her place." The entire, brutal, humiliating scene was being watched by the world. Her fans, her sponsors, the media. Her carefully constructed career, her perfect public image, was being burned to the ground, live on the internet.