The sheer, undeniable reality of the situation finally crushed the last of Liam’s arrogance. He didn’t fight. He stood up, trembling, his face pale and tear-stained. He didn’t even have time to pack a bag. The officers escorted him toward the door, treating him exactly like the criminal he was.
Eleanor followed them, crying hysterically, spewing venomous curses at me, calling me a monster, a cold-hearted witch.
But her words had absolutely no weight anymore. They were just the dying screams of a parasite being severed from its host.
Before Liam crossed the threshold, he stopped and looked back at me one last time. The devastation in his eyes was absolute.
“Liv,” he whispered. “You planned all of this. You set us up.”
I stood perfectly straight, my arms folded across my chest.
“No, Liam,” I corrected him calmly. “I simply gathered the data you provided, and I adjusted my portfolio accordingly. You made a terrible investment when you decided to bet against my intelligence. Now, you get to pay the deficit.”
The officers guided him out, and Eleanor scurried after him. The heavy mahogany door clicked shut, the automatic deadbolt engaging with a satisfying, metallic thud.
The apartment was suddenly plunged into a profound, beautiful silence.
I walked over to the kitchen island, picked up the blue folder, and placed it neatly into my briefcase. Then, I grabbed my keys, my designer coat, and my purse.