Art of Misalignment

Chapter 25 Scatter and Undercurrents

The grand ballroom lights dimmed one by one. The orchestra faded on the final notes of a waltz while the last guests drifted toward the exits.

Liam kept his arm tight around Maya’s waist as they headed for the door. His fingers pressed into her hip, a little too hard.

“You okay, baby?” he asked, voice low and rough with exhaustion. “That was intense. All those rich assholes staring at you like you were the main course.”

Maya offered a small smile that never reached her eyes. “I’m fine, Liam. Just tired. The dress was worth it, though, right? Everyone kept complimenting me.”

“Yeah,” he muttered, pulling her closer. “You looked like you belonged there. Like one of them.” His voice cracked. “Sorry I couldn’t keep up with all the networking crap. My head’s still spinning from the last few days.”

They stepped out into the cool night air. A valet brought around Liam’s modest black sedan. From the top of the steps, Ethan watched them, eyes narrowed. He raised his glass in a silent toast only he understood. Maya glanced back once. Their eyes met for half a second.

Inside the car, the leather seats creaked as Liam started the engine. Streetlights painted orange streaks across the dashboard. He reached over and took her hand, threading their fingers together. Her skin felt cool against his.

Maya stared straight ahead at the glittering skyline. Neon signs blurred past in red, gold, and electric blue. In her head she kept seeing Ethan’s easy stride across the ballroom floor, the way power rested on him like it cost nothing.

The silence stretched between them. Liam turned on the radio—an old jazz station trying to fill the quiet. He squeezed her hand tighter.

“Talk to me, Maya. What’s going on in that head of yours? You’ve been quiet since we left the table.”

She turned to him. For a second the old Maya flickered—the gentle cellist who used to look at him like he hung the moon.

“Nothing important,” she lied. “Just thinking about the music festival. Doris said I still have a chance if I focus.” Another lie—she had already been cut.

Liam let out a long breath, shoulders dropping. “Damn right. I’d do it again in a heartbeat. You’re my muse, Maya. My real one. Not like the others. Not like Chloe.”

At Chloe’s name, Maya’s jaw tightened.

“When we get home, I’m gonna run you a bath. Then I’ll hold you all night.”

Maya nodded absently. “That sounds nice.”

But inside her chest, something had already snapped.

Liam pulled into the apartment complex and killed the engine.

They walked up the stairs in silence. The moment the door closed behind them, Liam pulled her into his arms and pressed desperate kisses down her neck. The red silk slid to the floor as he unzipped the dress. His hands moved over her with familiar hunger,

but Maya’s responses were automatic—soft gasps, arched back, fingers threading through his hair. Her mind was somewhere else, wrapped in tailored suits and effortless power.

Later, tangled in the sheets, Liam lay beside her, breathing hard, one arm draped over her waist. “God, I needed that,” he murmured. “Felt like we were us again.”

Maya stared at the ceiling, city glow leaking through the blinds.

“Yeah,” she whispered into the dark. “Us again.”

But the lie tasted like expensive champagne and betrayal.

The apartment still carried the scent of last night—sweat, expensive perfume, and something sour underneath.

Maya woke first. Her body felt heavy, but her mind was already sharp and cold. She turned her head on the pillow and studied Liam.

He slept on, face slack, dark circles bruising his eyes. The man who once lit up rooms with wild ideas now looked small and used up.

She slipped out of bed without waking him, bare feet silent on the wooden floor. The red silk dress lay crumpled in the corner. In the bathroom she locked the door, and pulled out her phone. She opened the hidden album and stared at the photo she’d secretly taken at the gala—herself in that red gown beside Ethan under the chandelier. The fabric glowed.

God, I looked powerful, she thought. The idea twisted inside her, growing heavier.