The Uncovered Betrayal

When Liam Gallagher and I divorced, we were both calm.
He asked me, considerately, what I wanted.
I answered without a second thought. The cars, the house, the savings.
And half the company stock.
Liam blinked, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. What about the children? You don't want either of them?
"You love them so much. Are you really going to abandon Leo and Mia?"
I looked down at my wrist, at the latticework of scars from years of self-harm, and gently shook my head.
Not anymore.
From now on, I wanted nothing to do with Liam Gallagher. Nothing except his money.

1
Seeing my cold indifference, Liam looked like he wanted to say something more. But after a moment's hesitation, he simply signed the divorce papers in silence.
As we parted, he spoke with a detached politeness. "I can't give you the stock, but you'll always be their mother. If you ever run into trouble, you can always call me."
I nodded.
The moment I turned away, I dropped the business card he'd handed me into the nearest trash can.
In this lifetime, I would rather die than see Liam Gallagher again.
When I got home, I told our housekeeper, Maria, to pack up all of Liam's things and throw them out.
She chuckled, thinking it was just another fight. "Ma'am, did you and the mister have another argument?" she teased. "If you ask me, you should just let it go. He really does care for you. It's not worth giving up your place as Mrs. Gallagher over a moment of anger."
Maria had seen it allthe years of suffering, the endless humiliation. She knew the torrential force of my love for Liam, and she had witnessed my hysterical breakdowns after each of his betrayals.
She, like Liam, was convinced I would never leave.
But this time, I didn't cry or complain. I simply took our wedding portrait down from the wall.
"My mother is dead," I said, my voice calm and empty.
The smile froze on Maria's face. She stood there, stunned and speechless, before stammering out an apology.
I just smiled faintly and said nothing.
Then, with all my strength, I smashed the heavy frame against the floor.
Maria jumped back, startled. Then she was immediately by my side, helping me clean up the shattered glass. She expertly tended to the small cuts on my hand, a familiar routine.
"Good riddance," she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. "You're a Harvard graduate, for goodness' sake. You can do so much better without him. You don't have to take that kind of abuse, dear."
"I know," I whispered, my head bowed.
I hadn't wanted to cry. But as I looked down, tears began to fall, hot and unstoppable. There was regret and sorrow, yes, but also a flicker of something else: the exhilarating relief of a survivor.
Ten years.
The romantic fairytale of the prince and the small-town girl had finally reached its end. It wasn't a happy one, but it was the one I should have expected all along.

2
At eighteen, I was the valedictorian of my county, accepted into Harvard. That same year, I met Liam Gallagher, a successful alumnus who had returned to campus to make a donation.
The beginning of our story was breathtakingly romantic.
Liam fell for me at first sight. The moment his speech ended, he began a relentless pursuit. He'd wait for me after class with flowers and bubble tea. He'd bribe my roommates for information on my whereabouts. He memorized every little thing about me and declared his love for me under a sky filled with fireworks.
Back then, everyone said we wouldn't last. A girl like me, a Cinderella from a small town, could never truly belong with someone like Liam Gallagher. But Liam didn't care. He fought against the pressure from his family and the world, proposing to me and shielding me from all the malice.
Under his protection, my once difficult life switched to easy mode. I was showered with jewelry and bouquets, offered scholarships to study abroad. Resources were poured on me, everything I could ever want handed to me before I even had to ask.
For a naive, dreamy teenage girl, Liam's intense affection was intoxicating. I fell hard and fast, giving up my ambitions to marry him.
Dating, marriage, pregnancyit all unfolded so perfectly. Life felt effortless. I was drowning in the joy of love, completely unaware that every gift from fate comes with a hidden price tag.
The day our son, Leo, was born, Liam's mother, a woman I had never met, swept into my hospital room and took my baby from his bassinet. Her smile was polite, but her voice was cold and dripping with condescension.
"Leo is the future heir to the Gallagher fortune. His position is of the utmost importance," she stated. "Given your background, you are not qualified to raise him."
After ten months of carrying him, after a difficult labor, I wasn't even allowed to hold my own son. To even see him, I needed permission.
I begged Liam not to be so cruel, not to separate me from our child.
He just looked at me with a strange expression. "My mother's right, Nora. You're from the country. We had an agreementI could mess around all I wanted, but when it came to the children, her word was law."
I was on the verge of collapsing from grief, but Liam just wrapped his arms around my waist and tried to kiss me, laughing it off.
"Come on, don't be sad," he said casually. "If you love kids so much, we'll just have another one."
I couldn't push him away. But when his eyes fell on the dense network of stretch marks covering my stomach, he stopped. A flicker of disgust and conflict crossed his face. After a moment's hesitation, he simply said, "You must be tired. Get some rest."
His coldness was like a slap in the face, waking me from my beautiful dream. I remembered his mother's contempt, the snickering of those around me. I suddenly realized that this grand, sweeping love story was nothing more than the whim of a rich boy.
Fate had given me a gift. Now, it was starting to collect the interest.
Losing my son was only the beginning.
During my postpartum recovery, I fell into a severe depression. I called Liam, but he never answered. I sent texts, but they went unread. I was sick with worry, imagining the worst had happened to him.
The next morning, I woke up to the news.
Photos of him in bed with a starlet were plastered all over the internet. The world began to speculate how long it would be before the small-town Cinderella was thrown out of the palace. The public mockery shattered the last of my illusions.
I couldn't accept it. My depression spiraled. We had the most vicious fight of our lives. In a complete breakdown, I grabbed a knife and threatened to jump from the balcony.
That was the only time I saw fear in his eyes. He rushed to hold me, his body trembling as he apologized. Like every cheating husband, he wept and swore it was all a misunderstanding, that he loved me, begging for another chance.
That night, Liam knelt before me, tears streaming down his face. "Nora," he pleaded, "please forgive me. Just this once."

3
I made the second worst mistake of my life.
I forgave him.
For our son. For the lingering love I couldn't cut away. And because my mother was in a terrible car accident, leaving me with no other home to run to.
So, Liam and I reconciled. And soon, I was pregnant with our second child, Mia.
Just like with Leo, Mia was taken away the moment she was born. The excuse this time was that Liam needed to focus on work and couldn't be disturbed by a crying baby.
To see my children, I had to go to the family estate before dawn every day to serve his mother. I poured her tea, massaged her shoulders, and even knelt to wash her feet, all in the desperate hope that she would show a sliver of mercy and let me spend time with my own kids.
But all my efforts were rewarded with Liam's brazen betrayals and my children's deep-seated resentment.
Leo refused to call me "Mom." Whenever he saw me, he would scowl and say, "That stupid country woman is here again. I don't want to see her."
Mia was too young to speak. She would just cry until her grandmother held her.
Meanwhile, my mother's condition was getting worse. The coldness of my children and the crushing weight of my life left me exhausted and hopeless.
Just when I needed him most, Liam was building a new life with another woman.
It was our wedding anniversary. Leo refused my invitation to celebrate. Liam didn't answer my calls. Instead, his new lover thoughtfully sent me a video of them in bed together.
Listening to their intimate sounds, I finally broke. I grabbed a blade and dragged it across my arm, over and over.
When Maria burst into the bathroom, I had almost bled out. She frantically called Liam.
This time, he didn't come home until morning.
He crouched in front of me, a smirk on his face as he looked at my mangled arm. "Weren't you going to die? A whole night has passed, and you're still here, clinging to this family like a stray dog."
His words shattered my fragile calm. Without a second thought, I threw myself off the balcony.
I didn't die. I just broke my leg.
Mrs. Gallagher paid off the reporters and dragged me to my mother's hospital room. She looked down at me, her voice like ice.
"The ICU costs twenty thousand a day. If you ever dare to embarrass the Gallagher name again, I'll make sure your mother dies with you."
That was the first time I realized that even death was a luxury I couldn't afford.
I was trapped. I couldn't let go of the past, couldn't sever the ties to my children. So I humbled myself, shrinking into nothingness in a marriage that had devoured my soul. I watched my son and daughter grow distant, watched Liam move from one woman to the next, watched them use my own mother to control me.
Marriage into a wealthy family was a sweet dream and a painful chain. Cinderella had become Mrs. Gallagher, but the prince was still lost in his game, "saving" one beautiful, poor girl after another.
Until one day, Liam went too far.
He fell for a socialite in her thirties with a string of ex-husbands, and he got her pregnant.
Mrs. Gallagher was furious. She slapped me twice across the face, screaming at me for failing to control my own husband.
"What good are you if you can't even keep a man's heart?" she shrieked. "I order you to clean up this mess immediately. Otherwise... I will cut off your mother's medical funds and ensure you never see Leo or Mia again!"
With my marriage in ruins, my mother was the only pillar I had left. I couldn't lose her.
Steeling myself, I went to see the woman, Seraphina. Unlike Liam's other flings, she wasn't arrogant or aggressive. She was polite, even deferential, calling me "Mrs. Gallagher" with a pleading look in her eyes.
"I'm so sorry, ma'am. I never intended to disrupt your family," she said softly. "I just love Liam so much. But for his sake, I'm willing to get rid of this child and disappear forever."
Seraphina was true to her word. She took the money and vanished.
That night, Liam, who hadn't been home in ages, walked into my room. Without a word, he pushed me onto the bed and took me. For an entire month, he didn't let me leave that room.
Not until I was pregnant with our third child.
As a reward for solving his problem, and to keep Liam at home, Mrs. Gallagher made an unprecedented concession: I would be allowed to raise this child myself. Around the same time, my mother's health began to improve under the care of the Gallaghers' private medical team.
I was ecstatic. I thought my suffering was finally over, that things were finally looking up.
But when I was eight months pregnant, Liam pushed me down the stairs.

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