Chapter3

Liam arranged everything.

The money was transferred to places no one could find. The apartment was listed for sale. The doctor's office had records noting I needed "close monitoring."

I did as he said, leaving traces in my apartment—a few empty bottles, torn photos, unopened anti-anxiety medication tossed on the nightstand.

Callum called while I was deliberately making the living room messier.

"Evira." His voice came through the speaker, soft piano music in the background. "I heard you've been... not doing well lately."

I didn't speak, just flipped a picture frame face-down on the table.

"I know you're hurting," he continued, his tone carrying that deliberate patience, like talking to a child. "But life goes on. You can't keep going like this."

"Like what?" I asked, my voice deliberately soft, a bit floaty.

"Like this... depressed." He paused. "Sophia is really worried about you. She cried last night, said she feels terrible about you."

I almost laughed. Sophia's tears? Probably from laughing too hard.

"I don't need her concern," I said, letting my voice take on a slight quaver. "I need... I need you to tell me it's all fake. Tell me you never loved her."

Silence on the other end for a few seconds. I heard him sigh softly—no guilt in that sound, only impatience.

"Evira, we've talked about this. You're making this... very difficult for me."

Difficult. My existence had become his inconvenience.

"I'm sorry," I said softly, then hung up.

I set down the phone, the fragile expression on my face instantly disappearing. I walked to the mirror and looked at the woman with disheveled hair and red-rimmed eyes. Not bad acting.

The next morning, Liam sent me a link.

It was a clip from Callum's morning TV interview. I clicked it.

The host asked him about "the recent turmoil in your personal life." Callum flashed a perfectly calibrated, slightly weary smile.

"That's a private matter," he said, his voice sincere. "But I can only say I pray everyone involved finds inner peace. Especially Evira. She's a kind person. She deserves happiness."

The camera zoomed in. The pity in his eyes was as light as a layer of dust.

That wasn't heartbreak—it was contempt. A victor's charity to the defeated.

The comments section was full of praise:

"Still speaking up for his ex at a time like this, what a great guy!"

"Compare that to the sister's emotional breakdown—no contest."

I closed the video. My nails dug into my palms.

That afternoon, I went out according to plan.

I did my makeup—making my face look pale and sickly, dark shadows under my eyes.

I put on that old trench coat Callum had said made me look "old," hair messily tied back.

I knew Maya Winters went to that trendy café every Wednesday afternoon to take photos. I timed it perfectly and pushed through the door.

She was there, as expected. Sitting in the best window seat, a staged salad and coffee in front of her.

When she saw me, her fork stopped mid-air.

I chose a table diagonally behind her, sitting with my back to her. Ordered a glass of water, then stared out the window for a long time.

I could feel her gaze boring into my back. Burning curiosity.

After about ten minutes, I stood up. My movements a bit unsteady. I turned toward the door, and passing her table, I "accidentally" knocked her napkin to the floor.

"Oh... sorry," I mumbled, crouching down to pick it up.

When I looked up, I let her see my face clearly—no makeup, swollen red eyes, unfocused gaze.

Maya's eyes went wide. "Ev... Evira? Oh my god, are you okay?"

I shook my head, quickly stood up, and hurried out of the café. Didn't look back.

The moment I turned into the alley, I straightened my back. Liam's car was waiting there.

"Did she get it?" I asked, wiping the pale foundation off my face with a wet wipe.

"At least three shots." Liam handed me a tablet. It showed a screenshot of Maya's private chat—she was messaging some girlfriend:

"Just ran into Evira Wells!!! OMG she looks TERRIBLE!!! Like a ghost!!! I'm sending you the photos but DO NOT share (yeah right)"

In the photos, I really did look like someone on the edge of a breakdown.

"Enough?" Liam asked.

I looked out the window. The city looked peaceful in the afternoon light, like nothing had happened.

"Add more fuel," I said. "Leak the news that I 'scheduled' an appointment with a psychiatrist next week to my mother's club friends. Make it look like an accidental leak."

Liam nodded and started typing.

I leaned back in the seat. My body was tired, but my mind was crystal clear.

Everything was going according to plan.

Callum was enjoying his victory, Sophia was enjoying her attention, and the whole world was pitying "devastated" Evira.

They were all seeing exactly what I wanted them to see.

And the real me was sitting in this unremarkable car, watching the countdown on my phone screen. One more day until I "disappeared."

One more day until their nightmare began.