---- Chapter 8 The plan was in its final stages. | had to go back to the house one last time to pick up a few personal items, things that mattered to me, things that had belonged to my parents. | timed my visit for an afternoon when | knew Liam would be stuck in meetings across town. | used my key to let myself in. The house was cold and silent, no longer feeling like a home. It was just a structure, a beautifully designed shell that was now empty of any meaning. | walked through the rooms, a ghost in my own life, gathering a small box of memories. | was in our bedroom, taking my mother' s jewelry from the safe, when | heard the front door open. My heart stopped. Liam wasn't supposed to be back for hours. | heard his voice, then another voice. A woman's voice. Clara's. "You shouldn't be here," Liam was saying, his voice a harsh whisper. "What if Ava comes?" "Relax," Clara's voice purred. "You said she's staying at her old place. Besides, | wanted to see it. Our future home." | froze behind the bedroom door, clutching the box to my chest. They were coming up the stairs. | ducked into the large ---- walk-in closet, pulling the door almost shut, leaving just a tiny crack to see through. They walked into the bedroom. Clara's eyes scanned the room, a triumphant smirk on her face. She ran her hand over the bed, over my side of the bed. "It's nice," she said. "A little cold for my taste. We'll need to redecorate. More color. More life." Liam looked nervous. "Clara, this isn't a good idea." "Oh, Liam, don't be such a worrier," she said, turning to face him. She put her hands on his chest. "| just want what's mine." My own words, my own thoughts, coming from her mouth. The irony was suffocating. "What if Ava had been here?" he asked, though he didn't push her away. "Her wedding dress is in that closet." "Let her have the dress," Clara said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "She can have the wedding, too. A nice little party before she signs her life over to you. But we both know who the real bride is." She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him, a long, possessive kiss. | watched, my stomach churning, as he kissed her back. Then Clara pulled away and looked at him, her expression turning serious. "You promised me, Liam. You promised this was just a business deal with her. A few more weeks, and ---- then she's out, and I'm in." "| know what | promised," he said, his voice low. "| hope so," she said, her voice turning sharp. "Because I'm not going to be your dirty little secret forever. The wedding I'm planning is going to make hers look like a backyard barbecue. I've already booked the Grand Plaza for next spring. And the designer for my dress is flying in from Milan. Only the best for your son's mother." Her words hit me harder than any physical blow. A Grand Plaza wedding. A designer from Milan. All the things he'd told me were too extravagant, too expensive for our own wedding. He had been saving the grand gestures for her. For his real family. | pressed my hand against my mouth, my whole body trembling. My wedding, the one | had poured my heart and soul into designing, was just a pale imitation of the real event. It was a budget version, a dress rehearsal for the main performance. | wanted to scream. | wanted to storm out of the closet and tear them both apart. But | didn't. | stayed silent in the darkness, my heart shattering into a million tiny pieces. My carefully constructed composure was cracking, and the raw, agonizing pain was flooding back in. He wasn't just replacing me. He was erasing me with a better, more expensive version.