THE MAN I CAME TO DESTROY

Chapter 5

Liam's POV

I make it to the elevator before my body starts betraying me.

The doors close. I'm alone. And suddenly I can't breathe right.

My chest is too tight. My hands won't stop shaking. Not the practiced tremor I've perfected over two years. The real kind. The kind that comes from lying about your dead sister to the man who might have killed her.

Are you related to Chloe?

The question plays on a loop in my head. His voice. His eyes searched my face for the truth I couldn't give him.

“I don't know anyone named Chloe.”

The lie sits in my throat like broken glass.

The elevator descends. Fourteen. Thirteen. Twelve.

My reflection stares back at me from the mirrored walls. I look pale. Wrong. Like someone wearing a mask that doesn't quite fit anymore.

Heat crawls up my spine. Spreading across my shoulders. Down my arms. I'm sweating. Actually sweating. Not the nervous kind you can hide. The kind that soaks through your shirt. Makes your skin slick and cold.

Eight. Seven.

My stomach lurches. Nausea hits so hard I have to brace myself against the elevator wall.

This is bad. This is…

The headache starts behind my eyes. Sharp. Immediate. Like someone's driving nails through my skull.

Four.

I denied her. Looked him in the eyes and pretended Chloe never existed. Like she was nobody. Nothing. Just some name that means nothing to me.

Three.

My body feels wrong. Like it's being torn apart from the inside. Like every cell is rejecting what I just did. What I just said.

The elevator dings. Doors open.

I stumble out into the lobby. Try to walk normally. Can't. My legs aren't working right. Everything's tilting sideways.

The receptionist looks up. "Sir? Are you okay?"

I don't answer. Just keep walking. Toward the exit. Toward air. Toward anything that isn't this building where I just erased my sister's existence.

I make it to the stairwell. The one nobody uses because there are elevators. Push through the door. Collapse against the concrete wall.

The nausea gets worse. I'm going to be sick. Actually sick.

I slide down the wall. Sit on the cold floor with my head between my knees. Trying to breathe. Trying to remember how breathing works.

I don't know anyone named Chloe.

Liar.

People sometimes mistake me for other people.

Liar.

I'm just me. Liam Hart. Nobody special.

The biggest lie of all.

Because I'm not Liam Hart, junior associate who's grateful and harmless and slightly fragile. I'm Liam Hart, brother of Chloe Hart, who spent two years becoming a weapon specifically designed to destroy the man I just lied to.

And I looked him in the eyes and pretended she never existed.

My phone buzzes. Elena.

I can't deal with her right now. Can't deal with anyone.

The door opens. Footsteps on the stairs.

"Liam?"

Marcus. Of course, it's Marcus.

I look up. He's standing three steps above me, briefcase in hand, expression concerned.

"Hey. You okay? You look…" He stops. "You look terrible."

"I'm fine."

"You're sitting on a stairwell floor covered in sweat. That's not fine."

He comes down the stairs. Crouches next to me. Puts a hand on my shoulder.

"When's the last time you ate?"

"This morning."

"When's the last time you slept?"

I don't answer.

He sighs. "Come on. Let's get you up. Get you home."

"I have work"

"Screw the work. You're no good to anyone like this." He helps me stand. "I'll tell Jennifer you're sick. Which you clearly are. Take the rest of the day. Rest. Come back tomorrow when you're not about to pass out."

"I can't just leave.."

"Yeah, you can. You're not a surgeon. No one dies if you take a sick day." He's steering me toward the fourteenth floor now. Back through the door. "Get your stuff. I'll walk you down."

I should argue. Should insist I'm fine. But I'm not fine. And Marcus knows it.

We take the elevator back up. I gather my things from my desk. Briefcase. Jacket. Keys.

Jennifer sees us. "Liam? What's wrong?"

"Not feeling well," Marcus answers for me. "Sending him home."

"Oh no. Do you need anything? Can I call someone?"

"I'm okay," I manage. "Just need to rest."

"Of course. Feel better. Take tomorrow too if you need it."

I nod. Let Marcus guide me back to the elevators.

We ride down in silence. He doesn't ask questions. Doesn't push. Just stands there being steady while I try not to fall apart.

The doors open. Lobby.

"You good to drive?" Marcus asks.

"Yeah."

"You sure? Because you look like you're about to collapse."

"I'm sure."

He doesn't believe me. But he lets me go anyway. "Text me when you get home. So I know you didn't pass out behind the wheel."

"I will."

I walk toward the parking garage. Each step feels like pushing through concrete. My head is pounding. My stomach is churning. Everything hurts.

The garage is mostly empty. Middle of the day. Everyone's at work.

Everyone except…

"Liam Hart."

I freeze.

That voice. I know that voice from research. From surveillance. I have studied everything about the Moretti family for two years.

Sophia Rossi.

She's standing next to a black Mercedes. Expensive. Sleek. Everything about her screams money, power, and danger.

"Ms. Rossi." My voice comes out steadier than I feel. "I didn't expect…."

"Get in the car."

"I'm sorry?"

"Get. In. The car." Not a request. A command. "We need to talk."

Every instinct I have is screaming at me to run. But I can't run. Can't make a scene. Can't do anything that looks suspicious.

So I walk over. Open the passenger door. Get in.

She slides into the driver's seat. Doesn't start the engine. Just sits there. Looking at me.

Her eyes are cold. Calculating. Like she's seeing through every layer of performance straight down to the truth underneath.

"You're not feeling well," she says finally.

"Just a headache."

"Liar." She says it pleasantly. Like she's commenting on the weather. "You look like you're about to be sick. Like something's eating you alive from the inside."

I don't respond.

"I saw you come out of Elias's office earlier. You looked upset then too. Did something happen?"

"No. Just delivered some documents."

"And talked to him."

It's not a question.

"Briefly. Yes."

She tilts her head. Studies me. "What did you talk about?"

"I thanked him. For helping me last week. That's all."

"That's all?"

"That's all."

She's silent for a long moment. Then: "Elias has been distracted lately. Avoiding obligations. Skipping meetings he should attend. Acting like he has something more important on his mind than the merger he's supposed to be finalizing."

Her eyes narrow.

"And then you show up. New hire. Fragile. Convenient. And suddenly he's even more distracted."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Don't you?" She leans closer. "Let me ask you something, Liam Hart. And I want you to think very carefully before you answer."

The air in the car feels too thin. Too hot.

"Are you related to Chloe?"

The question hits like a physical blow.

My heart stops. Then starts again, too fast. Too loud.

She knows. Somehow she knows.

Or she suspects. Isn't sure. Testing me as Elias tested me.

"I don't…." My voice cracks. "I don't know who that is."

"Liar." Still pleasant. Still calm. "Everyone lies differently, you know. Elias lies with his face. Doesn't show anything. Completely blank. You lie with your body. Right now, your pupils dilate. Your breathing changed. Your hands.." She glances down. "are shaking."

I curl my fingers into fists. Try to steady myself.

"I don't know anyone named Chloe," I repeat. Stronger this time. "People keep asking me that. I don't understand why."

"Because you look like her. Because you showed up here conveniently and fragrantly right when Elias needed something to feel guilty about. Because…" She pauses. "Because someone with your exact skill set would be perfect for a revenge plot."

The words hang between us.

Revenge plot.

She knows. Or she's close enough to knowing that the distinction doesn't matter.

"I'm not…I don't…" I can't finish. Can't find words that will make this okay.

Sophia leans back. Crosses one leg over the other. Perfectly composed.

"Let me be very clear about something, Liam. I don't care who you are. I don't care what you want. I don't care if you're here for revenge or opportunity or pure coincidence."

Her eyes lock on mine. Ice and steel.

"What I care about is that you stay away from Elias Moretti. You don't talk to him. You don't seek him out. You don't exist in his world anymore."

"I work here"

"Then quit. Transfer departments. Do whatever you need to do to ensure your paths don't cross."

"Why?"

"Because Elias has obligations. To his family. To this company. To me. And I won't let some junior associate with a victim complex derail careful planning."

She reaches over. Touches my jaw. Forces me to look at her.

"People who become problems in my world don't last long. They have accidents. Coincidences. Unfortunate circumstances that remove them from the equation."

Her thumb presses against my throat. Not hard. Just enough to remind me how easy it would be.

"So here's what's going to happen. You're going to stay away from Elias. You're going to be the perfect little employee who doesn't cause trouble. And if you don't "

She leans in close. Her breath was cold against my ear.

"You'll end up like the others before you."

She pulls back. Smiles. Pleasant. Beautiful. Terrifying.

"Do we understand each other?"

I can't speak. Can't move. Can't do anything except sit there with her hand still on my jaw and her threat sitting between us like poison.

"I asked you a question, Liam."

"We understand each other," I whisper.

"Good." She releases me. "Now get out of my car. Go home. Rest. And tomorrow, when you come back to work, remember this conversation. Remember what happens to people who don't listen."

I open the door. Stumble out. Stand there in the parking garage while she starts her engine.

She rolls down her window. "Oh, and Liam? If you're smart, you'll quit. Transfer. Move to a different city. Because staying here, " She smiles, "that's just asking for trouble."

The window rolls up. She drives away.

I stand there. Alone. Shaking.

She threatened me.

Sophia Rossi just threatened my life.

You'll end up like the others before you.

The others.

Chloe.

She's talking about Chloe.

My phone buzzes. I pull it out with hands that won't stop shaking.

Unknown number.

I warned you. Get out while you still can.

I stare at the message. At the mystery person who's been watching this whole time.

Get out.

Quit.

Run.

That's what Sophia wants. What this person wants. What everyone seems to want.

For me to disappear. To give up. To let Chloe's death mean nothing.

I deleted the message.

Walk to my car. Get in. Sit there for five minutes trying to remember how to breathe.

Then I drove home. Through traffic, I don't see. Past buildings I don't register. Operating on autopilot while my mind races.

Sophia threatened me.

Knows or suspects who I am.

Warned me to stay away from Elias.

Or end up like the others.

I park in my building's garage. Take the stairs up to my apartment because I can't handle another elevator right now.

Unlock my door. Step inside.

The evidence room. I need to see it. I need to remember why I'm doing this.

I open the door to the second bedroom.

Chloe's photograph stares back at me from the center of the wall. Twenty-two years old. Smiling. Alive.

I don't know anyone named Chloe.

The lie echoes in my head.

I sink down against the wall. Stare at her picture.

"I'm sorry," I whisper. "I'm so sorry."

But sorry doesn't bring her back.

Sorry doesn't change the fact that I denied her existence.

Sorry doesn't stop Sophia from threatening to kill me.

My phone buzzes again. Elena.

We need to talk. Now.

I don't respond.

Just sit there in my evidence room. Surrounded by two years of planning. Looking at my sister's photograph.

And wonder how everything went so wrong so fast.

I came here to destroy Elias Moretti.

Instead, I'm the one being destroyed.

And I don't know how to stop it.