After Ten Years He Said I Was Too Old and Planned for Me to Raise His Son Chapter 2

I sat in the car, a deep, cellular cold spreading through me.

On the dashboard were two small clay dolls, a birthday gift from Liam five years ago, which he'd made himself. A boy doll for him, a girl doll for me, their painted smiles pressed happily together. I could never bring myself to put them away.

There were twelve years between us.

I had just divorced my first husband when we met. A failure in love, a success in business. Our paths crossed while competing for a major real estate development. I was thirty-one then, at that specific age critics call a woman's prime, a vintage of confidence and grace that younger girls, for all their taut skin and bright eyes, couldn't yet possess.

It was love at first sight for Liam. He pursued me with a single-minded, almost manic intensity for an entire year. He even bought the contested property at an exorbitant price, only to sign it over to me, no strings attached.

He told me I was wearing a black fishtail dress the day he first saw me. He said that until that moment, he'd never known a simple piece of clothing could look so stunning, so impossibly elegant.

No one dislikes a compliment, and Liam was young, handsome, his features alive with the kind of reckless confidence that I found undeniably magnetic.

From dating to marriage, everything moved at lightning speed. To marry me, he leveraged his entire future against his parents' wishes. He dropped out of grad school. He walked away from the family company. He even threatened that if they didn't let him marry me, he would renounce the family name and tell them to have another son.

His father was hospitalized from the stress of it all, but in the end, they couldn't stand against their only child. They consented. For two years, the tabloids were filled with stories about us. The entire city of New York was convinced of Liam's undying devotion. For that one year, at least, no one doubted how much he loved me.

And now, this video sat in my hands. A stark, cruel contrast.

Ten years. You could get attached to a dog in ten years.

To say my heart didn't ache would be a lie. It felt like it was tearing itself apart.

Running on the last fumes of my strength, I drove home.

The moment I pushed open the door, the rich aroma of braised short ribs filled the air. Liam was at the stove, an apron tied around his waist. He turned off the heat and smiled when he saw me. "Working late again? Leaving me all alone here."

I calmly slipped off my coat and changed my shoes, stumbling slightly as I stepped into the living room.

Liam rushed to my side, steadying me. "You look awful. Did someone at the office give you a hard time? Tell me who it was, I'll take care of them tomorrow."

I looked down. The hand on my arm was young and strong. In contrast, my own skin, no matter how much money I poured into maintaining it, was inevitably losing its fight against time.

A wave of utter exhaustion washed over me.

I pulled my arm away. "Who were you with tonight?"

Perhaps it was my expression, or perhaps it was Liam's own deeply suspicious nature. He was quiet for two seconds, then his face changed. A humorless smirk twisted his lips as he tossed the serving spoon onto the counter with a clatter.

"So you know? What exactly do you know?"

I looked up at him. "Should I know something?"

He slowly, deliberately, rolled down his sleeves. His voice was terrifyingly calm. "Sierra isn't half the woman you are. No family, no education, she's crude. But she's twenty-one. And she has your eyes."

He reached out and touched my cheek, but there was no tenderness in his gaze. "I never had you at twenty-one. Back then, you were still sleeping with your ex-husband, having his baby. Doesn't that seem a little unfair to me?"

A violent tremor ran through me. So, after all these years, he still couldn't let go of Elliot.

He suddenly laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. He forced me down onto a stool at the kitchen island, my body trembling uncontrollably. "You should have just pretended you didn't know. I didn't want to hurt you."

"If you can live with it, we can stay married. If you can't..." He trailed off.

"If I can't?" I pressed.

When Liam smiled, he had these boyish canine teeth that I used to adore. Now, he smiled as he delivered the cruelest words I'd ever heard. "If you can't, you'll learn to. At your age, who else is going to want you? Some sixty-year-old who can't even get it up?"

He leaned in closer. "You have such a high sex drive. You think they could satisfy you?"

I couldn't take it anymore. My hand flew up and I slapped him. Hard.

He licked his lips, a slow, chilling smile spreading across his face as he pushed me back onto the stool. "Even though you're old, we have ten years between us. There's a history there. I won't let Sierra replace you. I can even promise you that her child will call you 'Mother'."

"That," he said, his voice dropping to a confidential whisper, "is my promise to you."

After Liam left, I sat alone in the kitchen all night.

The pot of rich, fragrant soup grew cold on the stove, a greasy, opaque film congealing on its surface.

A wave of nausea rose in my throat, and I retched.