chapter 8

8.

"Because that liar Chloe kept insisting she was the one who saved me—that's why I treated her so well. I'm sorry, Isla! Please, come back to me. The one I truly love is you! My money might not match the Weston family's, but I can give you a normal man's love. Owen can't."

Seeing that I wasn't moved, he suddenly dropped to his knees with a dull thud.

"Come back to me, Isla, I'm begging you. From now on, I'll love you with everything I have! I'll transfer all my company shares to your name, give you everything I own—just come back."

"Who's this mutt barking in front of me? I don't know you." My tone was ice-cold.

"Isla, stop pretending. How could you not know me? I'm your childhood fiancé, Liam! Your dad adored you before he passed—he was afraid you'd suffer if you married into another family, so he took me in and betrothed us… Come with me. Owen's basically a vegetable. Are you really planning to tie yourself to him for life? You only married him to spite me, didn't you?"

I gave a short, mocking laugh. "That's my business. What's it got to do with you?"

Just then, Owen's voice came from behind me.

"Who the hell dares to hit on my wife—and call me a vegetable? If you've got the guts, say it again to my face!"

Liam's expression froze. "You… you were supposed to be dead. What's going on?"

Owen stepped forward calmly. "Yeah, I died once. But life goes on, and here I am—alive and well."

His eyes narrowed. "And if you dare spread another rumor about me being a vegetable, I'll chop your damn head off."

Suddenly, thunder cracked overhead. The wind roared, and rain poured down in sheets.

In seconds, Liam was drenched, rain and mud streaking down his face until he looked like a drowned rat.

"Isla…" His voice was hoarse, swallowed by the storm. "Please… come with me…"

Owen's voice stayed cool. "Get lost. Now. Or I'll have to get rough."

Rain dripped from Liam's chin. "Then let Isla tell me herself."

The bodyguards glanced at each other, unsure what to do.

The next moment, a bucket of muddy rainwater was dumped straight over Liam's head.

He shuddered violently, lips pale, eyes wide and hollow.

I stood beneath the eaves, watching it all with detached calm.

When the rain began to ease, I stepped forward.

A flicker of desperate hope lit up his eyes. "Isla—you're going to say yes, aren't you? You won't abandon me again?"

He crawled toward me on his knees, hands clutching at the muddy ground.

I looked down at him, the same way he once looked down on me. "Liam, quit playing the victim. I'm not buying it."

That faint light in his eyes went out completely. His forehead pressed to the wet earth as he began to sob, his voice breaking apart.

"Isla, I was wrong. I know I was wrong. Please… just one more chance…"

I turned away, no longer interested in his performance.

Owen caught my hand. "Honey, what do you want to do with him?"

"Take him away," I said flatly.

Owen gestured, and the bodyguards dragged Liam off.

"Listen up," he said coldly. "From now on, he is not allowed to step into my territory without permission!"

I walked away without looking back. Behind me, Liam's wailing echoed through the rain—raw and desperate.

The next morning, I got up and checked my phone.

A breaking news alert popped up on the screen.

A certain company president suspected of mental illness, sent to a psychiatric hospital.

The man in the photo was covered in mud, face barely recognizable.

But even under all that grime, I knew it was Liam.

I was still staring at the screen when Owen walked in and sat at the table, his voice gentle.

"Mrs. Graham, breakfast is ready."

The table was laden with dishes of every kind, the air rich with the comforting scent of home.

I locked my phone, smiled, and walked over.

For once, I held onto something real—solid, peaceful, mine.

(The End)