Stepping into Liam's house felt surreal.

It had been so long since I'd been in a place with so much light.

The room I was given in the hospital was always dark and damp, a corner of a bathroom that reeked of filth.

The patients who beat me would sneer, "A piece of trash like you is lucky to even sleep here."

They would deliberately urinate where I slept, throw dead rats on me, calling it my punishment.

They acted like righteous crusaders, joyfully passing judgment on the "homewrecker."

Living in that dark, filthy place, my skin broke out in a constant rash, itchy and painful.

In the beginning, I had called for help, over and over.

"Liam! Liam, save me!"

I prayed he would appear and rescue me from that hell.

But back then, Liam was busy.

He was arranging the best doctors for Mia, investing in the ballet company she loved.

They were even photographed kissing sweetly on a street in London.

The Director was the one who told me.

She shoved the evidence of their happiness in my face, grinding my cheek into the dirty floor.

"See that, you bitch? Don't you dare have any unrealistic fantasies about Mr. Hayes."

I was filled with so much hatred and grief, it felt like all the strength had been drained from my body.

I was sent to this hell by Liam and Mia, suffering inhuman torment day after day in despair and agony.

And they were off somewhere, whispering sweet nothings, wrapped up in each other.

The torture never stopped.

There wasn't a single part of my body left unscarred, and the mental anguish was constant.

In the end, my heart grew numb.

My pride was shattered.

My soul was left weeping.

I stopped asking for help.

Sometimes I would just lie there, staring at the ceiling, wondering why I was still alive.

"Go sit on the sofa," Liam said, frowning at me. "I'll get the first-aid kit. Your chin is still bleeding."

That's when I noticed how much the house had changed since I'd left.

It was as if a new woman had taken over.

The pink sofa I loved was now a stark, clinical white.

The little fox pillow I used to hug while watching TV was gone.

The matching couple's mugs Liam and I had bought together had vanished.

In their place was a vase filled with red roses, and I was allergic to pollen.

I didn't sit on the sofa.

Instead, I quietly curled up on the rug beside it.

I didn't want to be beaten.

The Director said that someone as worthless as me belonged in a corner.

The memory of my skin splitting open made me start to tremble.

Liam was losing his patience.

"I told you to sit on the sofa, didn't you hear me?"

I was terrified.

"I'm dirty and worthless, I can't sit on the sofa. That's for you and Miss Mia."

Liam's face darkened.

"What the hell are you talking about? Are you trying to mock me with that dead expression?"

I mechanically forced a smile.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for making you uncomfortable. It's my fault. I deserve to die."

Liam pressed his fingers to his forehead, looking like he had a massive headache, as if he'd just thrown a punch into a cloud of cotton.

It was Mia who took his hand, her voice gentle.

"Don't be angry, Liam. Chloe's probably just disoriented from being away so long."

"Why don't you go take a shower? You must be tired. I'll take care of Chloe's cut."

Liam let out a cold grunt, but he listened to Mia and went to shower.

Mia took a cotton ball soaked in alcohol and pressed it hard into my wound.

The sharp sting of the alcohol made me hiss in pain.

Mia smiled, a flicker of pure pleasure in her eyes, as she gripped my head tightly with both hands.

"Life in the asylum wasn't too pleasant, was it?"

"I told them to take special care of you."

Her eyes were full of menace.

"You'd better behave yourself, you bitch. Don't even think about trying to seduce Liam."

"You don't want to go back there, do you?"

The electric shocks, the barbed whip soaked in pepper spray, the excruciating pain in my fingers, my bloody, broken fingernails…

A violent shiver ran through me.

My eyes filled with absolute terror.