Chapter Three

As soon as I got back home, I started to pack my things. I forced myself not to cry, focusing instead on the task at hand. The image of Marcus and Emily was burned into my memory, and I knew that I would remember it for the rest of my life.

But I wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of seeing me cry. They could jump off a fucking bridge for all I cared. After spending so long wondering what exactly I had done to deserve this cruelty from my husband, it was satisfying to finally have an answer.

He was more interested in fucking my best friend than fixing our marriage.

I could picture the two of them right now, and even the thought of it made me want to sink to the floor and cry until my tears dried up. I couldn't bear to think about what happened, or the sad reality of what my life was about to become.

I didn't know what I was going to do now, but I sure as hell wasn't going to stay in this house. For so long, it had felt more like a prison than anything else. I had no memories of being happy here, and I wasn't going to miss anything about being here.

I had a plan in mind. Once I packed my things, I would get a hotel. Somewhere in the Upper East Side, so I wouldn't be so far away from anything. And tomorrow, I'll call the lawyer and tell him about the divorce. It shouldn't take long, since Marcus wasn't going to oppose. Once we finalised everything, I would leave New York. Everything I loved about this city was with Emily, and I couldn't bear that thought. I had always wanted to move to England for a while. Maybe I would go there for a while before I figured out what to do with my life. Marrying Marcus made me forget all the things I wanted to do with my life. He told me it wouldn't be right for his wife to be seen working, because I would never want for anything. So he asked me to give up on my dreams and stay with him, and I stupidly obliged.

How could I have been so stupid? How could I not see that he was cheating on me? The late nights, the mysterious phone calls, and the way he seemed so satisfied with our current situation. In the past, he couldn't keep his hands off me. But all of a sudden, he stopped trying. The mere mention of sex was enough to piss him off. He would snap at me whenever I tried to get intimate, or he would make up some excuse that he was tired or just not interested.

There was also the unexplained pack of condoms I always kept finding in the trash.

That was the first thing that raised alarm bells in my head. Either he had screwed up, or he simply didn't care and he wanted me to find out.

I finally managed to pack most of my clothes, and I hauled my suitcase out of the closet. I refused to look at our bed as I walked out of the room, and I dragged it out into the hallway. I must have been making a lot of noise, because Carlos—the butler—suddenly appeared in the hallway right as I was about to head for the stairs. He was still in his uniform, his greyish hair slicked back and his piercing green eyes narrowing down on me. Even though he was much older than me, we had always been so close ever since I started living here.

I was going to miss him the most.

"Ma'am?" he asked confusedly, his gaze shifting between me and the suitcase. "Are you going somewhere?"

"Yes, Carlos," I replied. "I'm getting the hell out of this house."

He blinked at me confusedly, and as I started to pull the suitcase, he rushed forward and took it from me.

"I always knew this day would come," he whispered, a sad expression on his face. "But it was not my place to speak."

"You knew about the affair?" I asked.

"I didn't," he replied. "But it's not so hard to realise that you and the master are not happy anymore. I suspected it would eventually come to this, and you would leave each other sooner or later. I guess it was sooner."

"I wish things were different, Carlos," I said. "But I cannot stand this sham of a marriage anymore. I've held on for too long. I have to leave. For my own sake."

"I shall miss you, ma'am," he said as he dragged the suitcase downstairs with me. "These past few years of having you with us has been wonderful. You were truly the best we could have asked for."

I forced back my tears as I said, "Thank you, Carlos. You have been an amazing friend. Will you inform the rest of the staff for me? I don't have the strength to say any goodbyes right now."

"You can count on me, ma'am," he said as we finally got downstairs and headed for the elevator. "I wish things could have worked out differently."

He smiled at me, but his smile disappeared as we rounded the corner and found Marcus standing in front of the elevator. My heart dropped into my stomach as my eyes met his, and he smiled wickedly.

"Leaving so soon?" he drawled, swaying slightly. He had clearly been drinking, and I could see it in how unfocused his gaze was. His shirt wasn't properly buttoned, his shoes were in his hands, and he had used his tie as a belt. He looked like he'd just been dragged through a junkyard, and I wondered how he had gotten this hammered. But it wasn't my problem anymore.

"I have nothing else to say to you, Marcus," I said. "Get the fuck out of my way."

"Y-you bitch!" he hiccuped. "You think y-you're so much better than me, don't you? You think you're a saint, don't you?"

"Marcus, move," I said. "Now."

"Fuck you, Liv," he spat. "You think I-I wanted to do this? You think I wanted any of this?"

"I don't care what you want," I spat. "I don't give a fuck what you want, Marcus. You can go fuck yourself for all I care."

For a moment, he looked shocked that I was talking back at him. I'd never actually spoken to him this way before, maybe because on some level, I always felt like he was my superior. But now, I'd thrown all caution to the wind. I wasn't holding anything back.

Marcus blinked at me like he was just seeing me for the first time. His lips were slightly parted, as though he was about to say something. I was so close to him that I could see the tiny black flecks in his eyes. I could see the slight crookedness of his nose which he always dwelled on, and he always tried to hide in public. But he was a total stranger to me now, and he stared at me like he didn't know me anymore.

And then he slapped me.

I didn't even see it coming. One minute I was looking into his eyes, and the next I was on the floor. It was sharp and painful, and it stung as I looked up at him, my mouth open in shock. Marcus had never hit me before. And I couldn't believe what had just happened.

"How dare you speak to me that way?" he roared, his anger dulling some of the effects of the alcohol. "You think you have the power to even stand next to me? You filthy peasant. I made you what you are today. If it wasn't for me, you would still be in the gutter right now, searching for scraps and trying to make a name for yourself. I pulled you out of the gutter and made you what you are today. And now you think you have the audacity to stand there and lecture me?"

I was still too dazed by the slap to say anything, and my cheek was burning as he towered over me. I couldn't look up at him, afraid of what I would see.

"Listen to me very carefully, Olivia," he said. "This is just the beginning of your worst nightmare. I'm going to make your life a living hell. You think this is the end of it? I'm going to take everything from you. I'm going to make you beg for mercy, and I'll make sure you're kissing my feet by the time this is over. I'm going to take everything from you. I'm going to ruin your life so much that even the filthy gutter rats like you won't recognise you. Believe you me, you'll wish you'd never been born by the time I'm through with you."

He stormed off without another word, leaving me right there on the floor. I couldn't even move, and my ears were ringing from the slap or from his words. The entire lobby was deathly silent, until Carlos moved forward and offered me his hand.

"I'm so sorry, Ma'am," he said. "I'm so sorry."

I didn't say anything as he helped me to my feet, and I didn't say anything as he rode downstairs with me, and helped me outside. I didn't even say anything as he helped me find a taxi, and he said a quick goodbye before heading back up to the penthouse.

I climbed into the back of the taxi as we drove off, and I stared out the window and watched the cars flying past. I couldn't hear them, or anything else. I couldn't focus on one thing in particular, as a hollow and scathing feeling settled in my chest.

And that was when I started to cry.