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my joy should have been. I' d just given my son, Liam, a kidney. The doctors had diagnosed him with a ra

side where the incision was. It was a good pain,

bert Sterling, had been with him, sending me texts filled with gra

table. It was Robert. I smiled,

number. It was a

but we have reason to believe your husb

louder, and the pain in my side sharpened into some

essage from an unknown number. It was a

storted voice spoke over the video. "Olivia Hayes. Your husband's

ific hotel room, where a camera was already set up. I had to perform a series of acts, recorded

k screen, his smiling face a beacon. I had just s

id

m crashed multiple times from the traffic. The comments section was a river of filth

k, inheriting my mother's esteemed design f

g, telling me how brave I was, how he would spend the rest of his life making

directors at Hayes Design, my mother's legacy, forced me to resign. They couldn't have their b

every

was my reason for living. They held me when I cried, promising their unwavering support. "We'

elded by the love of my husband and son. I found a fragile peace

door was slightly ajar. I heard voices inside-Robert and

ked. His voice wasn't the voice of the swe

und. "She still thinks she' s a hero who saved her dying son. She has

tepsister. Rob

hroat. The floor seemed

with a chilling admiration. "Destroying her reputation, making everyone think s

my side, to the faint, pale line of the scar. It

sease" that vanished so quickly after the surgery. Robert' s insistence that we handle the "kidnapping" privately. The

racter, the fool, and my own family were the writers, directors, and a

omforting word from Robert, every hug from Liam, was now poison. Their sup

ness trip Robert had taken. He was standing on a balcony, and in the reflection of the glass door, a woman was visible. Scarlett. They were laughing, their a

ey had taken my body, my reputation, my mother's legacy, and my

w feeling began to crystalize from the wreck

a

hey thought I was a broken woman who

were

a dull, constant throb, a reminder of what they had stolen. I wasn'

s. Architectural firms, far away. The second sea

s an architect. I knew how to read blueprints, how to find the stru

un. And it would st