The CEO’s Final ActChapter 3

I remembered the last time I "played" for sympathy. It was our second year. We’d been caught by the tabloids. To save his image, Liam turned our "arrangement" into a public relationship.

When Mia found out, she called him crying from London. He spent hours soothing her, then turned that tenderness into a rage directed at me. My condition had flared up that night. I was terrified. I called him, begging him to come home.

When he finally showed up, he looked at me—pale, trembling, and sick—with nothing but loathing. “Olivia,” he had said, “you should just go die in a corner somewhere and stop bothering us.”

Well, he got his wish.

Mia came back the next day. This time, she brought the King himself. Liam looked at me, his brow furrowing almost imperceptibly. “Are you that desperate for money? You look like a ghost.”

I smiled. “Starving artist, Liam. Want to donate to the cause? I’ll pay you back in the next life.”

He went to snap something back, but Mia interjected, clinging to his arm. “Liam, honey, you promised!”

Liam cleared his throat. “The production team likes your house. They want to use it for the show. Name your price, but you have to move out by tonight.”

My smile vanished. “No.”

Mia scoffed. “It’s a shack, Olivia. We’re doing you a favor by even looking at it.”

I ignored her, staring straight at Liam. “You know what this house means to me. It’s all I have left of my parents.”

Mia nudged him. Liam’s eyes hardened. “It’s just a house. Don’t be dramatic. Just give me a number.”

My heart did a strange, heavy thud, and then… silence. This was Liam Miller. For Mia, he would burn down the world. “Two hundred million,” I said.