Chapter 3: The Performance
I emerged from the bathroom ten minutes later, my face wiped clean of the "cheap makeup" they mocked. I walked into the room, my heart beating in a rhythm of cold steel.
Liam was standing by the window, clutching a glass of scotch, his shoulders slumped in a rehearsed display of worry. Victoria was fussing with her clutch, looking perfectly composed.
"Oh, Chloe," Liam sighed, turning to me with puppy-dog eyes that made my skin crawl. "I... I think we need to talk. You’ve been acting so strange lately. So erratic."
I watched him. It was a pathetic play. "Strange, Liam?"
"The mood swings," he continued, stepping closer and reaching for my hands—hands I pulled away just in time. "Mom and I are just so worried. We think you should take some time at the sanitarium in the valley. It’s for your own safety."
I didn't cry. I didn't beg. I walked to the bar, poured myself a glass of water, and took a slow, deliberate sip. "A sanitarium? That sounds expensive, Liam. Can we afford that? Especially with your current financial... entanglements?"
The color drained from his face. Victoria froze.
May you like
"What did you say?" she hissed.
I smiled, a slow, predatory curve of the lips. "I think you’ve both had a very long day. Why don't you go home? I’m going to stay here and enjoy the honeymoon suite. Alone."
