---- Chapter 18 A few days later, as | was sorting through baby clothes Elizabeth had optimistically bought, my phone pinged A text message. From an unknown number. *'He's mine, Olivia. You lost. He's going to marry me. Just thought you should know. Enjoy your lonely, pathetic life. S."* Serena. Of course. Her cruelty was relentless, her need to gloat, pathetic. | almost laughed. Did she really think this would wound me? | deleted the message without replying. She was irrelevant. A symptom of Michael's deceit, not the cause. My focus was on my escape plan. Elizabeth had found the perfect refuge: the Hayes family's old coastal estate in Kennebunkport, Maine. Secluded, historic, and miles away from the toxicity of LA. A place to heal, to prepare for the baby, to rebuild. The arrangements were being made with military precision. A private car, a discreet flight. Michael, meanwhile, was becoming increasingly agitated. His calls were more frequent, a mixture of pleading and accusation. "Liv, we need to talk. My investors are pulling out! This is your ---- mother's doing, isn't it?" "My mother makes her own decisions, Michael. As do her friends." "But this is our future! Your future too! And the baby's!" He still tried to use the baby as a bargaining chip. His unease was growing, but his overconfidence in my "love" for him, his belief that | wouldn't truly dismantle the life he'd built on my family's support, remained. He told me, during one particularly desperate call, that he and Serena were getting married. "A small ceremony," he said. "Just to give Mikey a name, you understand. It doesn't mean anything for us, Liv. It's just... a formality." A formality. Marrying another woman while still legally separated from his pregnant wife. The delusion was complete. "Congratulations, Michael," | said, my voice flat. "| wish you all the happiness you deserve." The dramatic irony was thick enough to cut with a knife. He thought he was solidifying his new life. He had no idea he was simply accelerating his own downfall. My bags were nearly packed. My farewell to LA was silent, but absolute.