Chapter 1 - The Weight of an Empty House
“What did she say?” Liam’s voice cracked, barely audible over the pulsating bass of the VIP lounge.
Caroline’s fingers remained open, the vintage diamond catching the harsh glare of a paparazzi flash from the street below. She did not offer the ring back to him; she let him stare at it, forcing him to understand the gravity of what he had just done. “She said to tell you she finally chose peace, Liam. And looking at you right now, I don’t blame her.”
Savannah Cole materialized at Liam’s elbow, her perfectly glossed lips curved into a sympathetic pout that didn't reach her calculating eyes. “Liam, babe, what’s going on? Is she throwing a tantrum again? It’s your release night, don't let her ruin your—”
“Shut up,” Liam snapped. The words tore out of his throat with a sudden, vicious intensity that made Savannah physically recoil. He didn't look at her. The intoxicating haze of whiskey, flashing cameras, and ego was instantly vaporized by the sheer, terrifying reality of that ring. Harper never took it off. Not when she washed dishes, not when she slept, not even when they fought.
Liam pushed past the executives, ignoring the shouts of his publicist. He burst out of the lounge, shoved his way into his waiting SUV, and screamed at the driver to get him home.
The sprawling, twenty-acre Tennessee estate had always felt massive, but tonight, it felt like a mausoleum. Liam threw the heavy mahogany front doors open. "Harper!" he yelled, his voice echoing off the vaulted ceilings. Silence answered him.
He took the stairs two at a time, stumbling slightly on the plush carpet. When he threw open the doors to their master suite, the air felt completely dead. Her side of the closet was largely untouched—she had left the designer gowns, the diamond tennis bracelets, and the expensive handbags he had bought to apologize for his absences. She had only taken her jeans, her sweaters, and the battered leather duffel bag she’d owned since college.
Then, he saw it.
Resting perfectly in the center of his pristine, untouched pillow was a thick white envelope. Liam’s hands shook so violently he could barely tear the paper open. A glossy black-and-white strip fell onto the heavy duvet.
Liam stared at it. The curved, unmistakable profile of a baby. His baby.
He flipped the photo over, and the handwritten note hit him like a physical blow to the chest: We’re going to be parents. Life on the road has been crazy, but maybe this will remind us what all this work was supposed to be for.
A guttural, agonizing sob ripped its way out of Liam’s chest. He collapsed onto the edge of the bed, crushing the ultrasound against his heart. She had brought this to the party. She had come to tell him he was going to be a father. And instead of greeting his pregnant wife, she had stood in the shadows and watched him stroke the waist of his tour manager.
Three thousand miles away, Harper Hayes was not crying.
May you like
She stood on the wrap-around porch of a beautiful, secluded A-frame cabin in the mountains of Bozeman, Montana. The midnight air was freezing, biting at her cheeks, but she pulled her thick wool cardigan tighter around her waist and inhaled deeply. For the first time in seven years, she didn't smell stale whiskey, hairspray, or the desperate sweat of the music industry. She smelled pine needles and fresh snow.
She placed a gentle hand over her slightly rounded stomach. "It's just you and me now, little one," she whispered to the quiet forest. "And we are going to be just fine."
Related Stories
