Chapter 3The Perfect Illusion

I slept like the dead.

When I woke up, the sun was already setting, casting long, orange shadows across the room. I rubbed my swollen eyes and opened the door to find Liam standing silently on the balcony. He was perfectly still, staring at the distant skyline, a nearly burnt-out cigarette pinched between his fingers.

My heart dropped.

The last time he smoked was when he had just taken over the Howard Group. The foundation was shaky, and the old board members fought him on every decision. The stress got to him, and he started smoking. When I found out, I threw a fit—fake coughing, shortness of breath, chest pains—a full-blown drama queen performance until he agreed to quit. He never could say no to me.

So why was he smoking now?

Was it… because of me?

“Liam,” I called out softly from behind him.

His fingers twitched, and he reflexively stubbed out the cigarette. His hair was a little messy, falling over his forehead and hiding the gaze he deliberately kept averted. That’s when I noticed it. A faint, angry red bloom across his right cheek, like he’d been slapped. Hard.

The words died in my throat.

He forced a weak smile, his voice raspy. “You’re awake? I’ll go make you some pasta to fill you up.”

He walked past me towards the kitchen, his steps hurried as if he were fleeing a natural disaster.

My phone buzzed gently. I glanced down and saw a message from my dad, sent and then quickly retracted.

The picture was becoming painfully clear.

Welp, it looked like Debra Howard was about to be permanently evicted from her home.

I clamped my hand over my mouth and ran back into the room, trying to stifle the sobs that threatened to escape. Before the axe fell for good, I quickly checked the balance on my accounts.

Luckily, I still had a little over a million dollars.

First things first, I transferred a hundred thousand dollars to each of the two girls I’d been sponsoring for years, to cover their tuition and living expenses.

Almost immediately, two question marks popped up in our little group chat.

I gave them the short version of the story, gently explaining that my own future was uncertain and I couldn't continue supporting them regularly anymore.

Right now, I was paranoid and fragile, seeing shadows in every corner. I felt like anyone could be waiting to kick me while I was down. I didn’t want to expose my weakness, so I was about to dissolve the group chat when a video call request came through from them.

Mia: “Is that all? Big deal. I’ll support you from now on.”

Lily: “Debra, I’ll support you too!”

My composure shattered in an instant, and fresh tears streamed down my face. I was touched, but I had to refuse.

“Sniffle… Never mind, guys. The money you two make wouldn’t even be enough to buy me a handbag.”

Mia and Lily: “…”

Mia was in my year; Lily was a year younger. Back in prep school, they were scholarship students at our elite academy. That kind of poor-but-resilient-heroine trope was prime bait for the idle, rich scumbags. And I, the resident tyrannical heiress, loved nothing more than putting those scumbags in their place.

So, we had a deal: I protected and funded them, and they tutored me. It was a fair trade that had lasted until now. I wasn’t sure if you could call us friends, but they loved sharing their lives with me, and I found it surprisingly fun.

After they saw I’d declined their very generous offer of patronage, they spent the whole night planning out my future. In the end, we all agreed on the perfect solution.

Get certified as a pastry chef and open a dessert shop!

Ever since I was a teenager, whenever I got into trouble, I’d bake a box of cookies for Liam as an apology. Even the coldest heart would melt at the sight of such a peace offering.

After thinking it over, I realized that baking was probably the only talent and interest I actually had.

Time to get to work.

I started researching online, so absorbed that I didn’t even notice the missed calls from Ethan.