Chapter 2

Maybe the chilly night air got to me, but I woke up feeling miserable and called in sick.

When I finally walked out of the room, the dining table was already covered with an elaborate breakfast spread.

Chloe beamed at me with a fake-sweet smile.

"Good morning, Mia. Liam and I grew up together. We've always been super close."

I kept my head down, chewing on a piece of toast without answering. She kept rambling on.

"Liam has amnesia right now. He forgot a lot of things... mostly things that weren't that important anyway."

*Unimportant things.* Wow. I couldn't help but reach for the glass of hot milk to swallow down the lump in my throat.

The boiling liquid instantly scalded my mouth and throat.

Out of nowhere, Chloe lunged forward and crashed straight into the glass I fumbled to put down.

The scalding milk splashed over her hand, and she let out an ear-piercing scream.

The bedroom door flew open, and Liam charged out.

With pure panic on his face, he cradled Chloe's hand, examining the burn.

The very next second, he glared up at me, his eyes blazing with fury.

"Mia! Did you do that on purpose?! Do you have any idea how important next week's piano recital is for Chloe?!"

"I never realized you were so venomously jealous!"

The blistering burn in my throat made it impossible to speak, let alone defend myself.

Without waiting for me to react, he scooped Chloe into his arms and sprinted out the door.

Liam didn't come back until late that night.

I was sitting in the living room, quietly trying to swallow down some lukewarm soup. He stormed in, snatched the bowl from my hands, and slammed it onto the hardwood floor.

The ceramic shattered with a violent crack. He roared:

"Mia, if the burn had been any worse, she might never play piano again!"

"You almost ruined her entire career!"

I had no words left. I just stared at the ruined floor, mourning the only food my blistered throat could actually tolerate.

Taking a deep, painful breath, I pulled out my phone and typed:

[She lunged at me and knocked the glass over herself. I didn't do it on purpose.]

Anxious, I kept typing to explain.

Liam snatched the phone right out of my hands and smashed it against the wall.

"Mia, you're an absolute disappointment."

He grabbed me roughly by the arm, dragging me toward the front door.

"You hurt Chloe, and now you want to dodge accountability?"

"You're coming to the hospital right now to apologize. And you're staying there until she forgives you!"

I struggled with everything I had, but he overpowered me and shoved me into the passenger seat.

As the car sped toward the ER, my heart turned to pure ice.

Inside the hospital room.

Chloe lay in bed looking pale and fragile, her hand wrapped in thick white gauze.

Liam yanked me inside.

"Apologize!"

I parted my lips, but only a faint, raspy wheeze came out.

A young nurse nearby noticed something was terribly wrong. She hurried over to me, gasping in shock.

"Miss, your throat and vocal cords are severely burned! If you don't get this treated immediately, the tissue damage will be permanent!"

A brief flicker of hesitation crossed Liam's face, his voice softening slightly.

"Stop playing the victim to weasel out of this. Apologize to Chloe first, then go get treated."

The nurse stared at us in disbelief and tried to speak up again, but I gently raised a hand to stop her.

I borrowed the nurse's pen and notepad, scrawling a quick line:

[Chloe, I'm sorry. I'm giving Liam back to you.]

Liam's face darkened instantly.

"Mia, what the hell is that supposed to mean? Giving me back to Chloe?!"

His voice raised defensively.

"Didn't you claim to be my fiancée? Or were you lying to me this whole time?"

Even now, he was still playing the amnesia card. But I was done acting the fool in his twisted little game.

I bent at the waist, gave a stiff, formal bow, and bolted out of the room.

I didn't care about Liam roaring my name behind me.

Stepping out into the brisk hospital parking lot, I felt as if something vital had finally withered and drained from my soul.

The night wind whipped around me, freezing cold. I instinctively wrapped my arms around myself, shivering.

The next second, a warm wool coat was gently draped over my shoulders.

I turned around to find a familiar face. It was Noah Vance—no, Noah Hayes. When did he get back from London?