Chapter 2

Chloe looked right past my shoulder, her gaze fixing on the Ladurée bag dangling from my hand.

"Is that for Liam?"

Before I could answer, she swiped her hand violently.

The box flew out of my hand and smashed heavily onto the floor. The cake instantly turned into a pile of sludge.

"Oops, my hand slipped." Chloe curled her lip without an ounce of apology, exaggeratively covering her nose. "But that thing didn't belong here anyway. It reeks of lower-class poverty."

I clenched my fists, nails digging into my flesh, staring only at Liam, who was avoiding my eyes.

"Trying to impress me with money?" Chloe continued. "You'll be a cleaner for the rest of your life and never earn three hundred thousand. Your body looks decent, though. Instead of scrubbing floors here, why not go stand on a street corner in the red-light district? As long as you're willing to spread your legs, that kind of 'dirty work' pays fast. Maybe you could actually scrape enough together to beg me."

Blood rushed to my head with a roar.

"Chloe," I stared at her, "is there anything in your brain besides filthy transactions?"

"Still got a tough mouth." Chloe scoffed.

She held the manuscript over the dancing flames.

The edges of the paper curled and blackened instantly in the heat.

Chloe's hand relaxed.

The manuscript slipped from her fingers, plummeting straight into the heart of the fire.

"No!"

My body moved faster than my brain.

I lunged at the fireplace like a lunatic, ready to thrust my hands into the scorching tongues of fire to snatch it back without hesitation!

I lunged too hard, my feet slipping, and I lost control, hurtling toward the searing metal fireplace grate. Hitting that meant certain disfigurement.

"Elena!"

Liam darted forward in a blur, grabbing me and pulling me back with force!

"Let go of me! Give me the manuscript!"

I struggled desperately, watching in despair as the fire swallowed the pages.

"Are you crazy?! You'd throw your life away for a pile of scrap paper?!" Liam roared.

Scrap paper?

That was the only thing my mother left me!

And it was burned like trash by his beloved Chloe!

In that instant, all the terror, grief, and humiliation turned into a cold, dead silence.

I stopped struggling. I let him hold me, my body stiff as ice, as I looked up into his clear, sharp eyes.

Liam's pupils, once "unfocused," were now constricted, his gaze piercing and precise, focused on me like a scalpel.

"When did your eyes heal?"

My voice was terrifyingly calm.

Liam's body went rigid.

"I... I just heard the wind, it was a reflex... I..."

"Reflex?"

I looked straight into the face that now made me sick to my stomach.

"Liam, you've been acting for three years. Aren't you tired? My mother's manuscript is destroyed, and the last shred of affection I had for you is destroyed with it. How much longer did you plan on playing me for a fool?"

His eyes flickered, and his face instantly assumed that familiar expression of the innocent victim.

"Elena, what are you talking about? My eyes really can't see, I just have occasional light perception... Are you really blaming me for this? You've just been looking for an excuse to abandon me all along!"

He was doing it again—trying to hold me hostage with his "blindness" and fear of abandonment to garner sympathy.

These past three years.

Late at night, he would hold me and weep, smashing cups, screaming that he couldn't see the piano keys, that living was like being in a dry well.

To save up for his astronomical corneal transplant fee, I walked five kilometers in a blizzard just to save two dollars on bus fare.

I endured endless eye-rolls at the cleaning company, only to come home and kneel by the toilet to wipe his ass.

So, while I was serving him like a dog, he was using those clear eyes to watch me run around in circles like an idiot.

I flung his hand off me with all my strength.

"Liam, for the sake of humiliating me, your acting really sucks. We're done."

I turned toward the door.

I didn't want to stay a second longer.

Behind me, Chloe's voice drifted over, dripping with coy mockery:

"Oh my, Liam, you really worked hard keeping up the act... were you actually afraid that toilet-scrubber would be sad?"

"Seriously? You, the grand piano genius, actually fell for a cleaner?"