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My husband, Liam, asked me to move out of the master bedroom. He wanted to make room for his childhood sweetheart—who also happens to be his cousin, Isabelle—just back from Europe. “It’s only temporary,” he said. “Once she’s emotionally stable, everything will go back to normal.” I smiled and agreed. He thought I was still the perfect wife, the one who would endure anything for the family’s reputation. What he didn’t know was that when I returned to my room and opened my laptop, it wasn’t to pack. It was to create a file named “Liberation Plan.” The moment he nodded, he signed off on the liquidation of his entire family. *** “Ava, I need you to move out for now.” Liam walked into the house as he spoke, loosening his tie without a single glance in my direction. His voice was light, as if he were discussing the weather. “Isabelle gets agitated when she sees you. I’m bringing her home so I can look after her.” I took the suit jacket he shrugged off. The familiar scent of cedar was threaded with a faint trace of Grasse white orchid—a fragrance that was expensive, and decidedly not mine. It was the perfume Isabelle had always worn. “And what if she’s never stable?” I tightened my grip on the costly fabric, my voice low. “Are you going to keep up this charade forever?” Liam stopped. At last, he turned to look at me. He sighed, a sound I knew all too well. It was the soothing, tolerant sigh he used when handling an unruly subordinate. “Ava, think of the bigger picture. She’s family. She’s in a terrible state right now.” He walked toward the living room, keeping his distance, then raised a hand and pointed to the huge, mottled modern painting on the wall. “Get rid of this, too. Isabelle doesn’t like this style.” He paused, then added, “Besides, it’s been up long enough. It’s time to bring out the family collection again.” It was the first anniversary gift he’d ever given me. For five years, I had personally wiped t......