The gallery opening arrived on a cold Friday evening in November. Sophie's photographs lined the white walls—twenty of her best pieces, carefully curated and professionally displayed. Her heart hammered as she watched people move through the space, studying her work, reading the plaques beside each image.
Marcus stood beside her in an expensive suit, his hand occasionally touching the small of her back in a gesture that felt both protective and possessive.
"You did it," he whispered as a prominent art critic paused in front of one of her pieces. "You're going to have offers from every gallery in the state before the night is over."
Sophie smiled, but her eyes kept drifting toward the entrance. She'd invited Liam weeks ago, before everything fell apart. She didn't know if he would come.
At 8:47 PM, he did.
He stood in the doorway for a moment, taking in the scene—Sophie in her elegant black dress, Marcus's hand on her back, her face glowing with success and confidence. Liam looked like he'd been hit by a truck. His dark hair was messy, his shirt untucked, and his expression was one of barely controlled pain.
"Liam!" Sophie called out, extricating herself from Marcus's touch. "You came!"
"I said I would," Liam said quietly, moving toward her. "Congratulations. Your work looks incredible."
"Thank you." She wanted to say more, wanted to bridge the distance that had grown between them, but Marcus materialized at her side before she could.
"Liam, right?" Marcus extended his hand, his smile sharp as a blade. "Good of you to make it. I know Sophie's been worried about whether you'd show up."
Liam ignored the outstretched hand. "Can I talk to you? Alone?" he asked Sophie.
"Actually," Marcus interjected smoothly, "Sophie's got a meeting with a potential collector in about five minutes. We can't afford to miss that opportunity."
"I wasn't asking you," Liam said, his voice dangerous.
"And I don't care." Marcus's charming facade cracked for just a moment, revealing something cold underneath. "Sophie's made her choices. I suggest you accept that and move on."
Sophie's stomach twisted. Something about the way Marcus said it felt wrong—territorial and possessive in a way that went beyond romantic interest.
"Marcus, I need a moment," Sophie said firmly. "This is Liam. My oldest friend. I'm not leaving without talking to him."
Marcus's jaw clenched, but he stepped back. "Fine. But make it quick. The collector is waiting."
Liam took her hand and led her toward the back of the gallery, to a quiet corner away from prying eyes.
"I need to tell you something," he said without preamble. "And I need you to actually listen to me, even though I know you don't want to hear it."
"Okay," Sophie said cautiously.
"Marcus Sterling isn't who you think he is." Liam's voice was urgent. "I did some digging after we fought. His last three schools—he transferred from each one. His ex-girlfriend from his previous town filed a restraining order against him. He was obsessed with her, controlling, manipulative. By the time she left, she felt like she'd lost herself completely."
Sophie's blood ran cold. "That's not true. You're just—"
"I'm not making this up." Liam pulled out his phone, showing her screenshots of news articles, social media posts, a court document. "His family paid off the girl's family to keep it quiet, but it happened. And Sophie, the pattern is exactly the same. He shows up, identifies someone vulnerable or ambitious, makes them feel special, isolates them from their support system, and then—"
"That's not what's happening." But Sophie's voice wavered. She thought about the way Marcus had appeared at every turn, the way he'd subtly discouraged her from spending time with Liam, the possessive comments disguised as concern.
"Isn't it?" Liam stepped closer. "When's the last time you hung out with your other friends? When's the last time you did anything that didn't involve him? He's been systematically cutting you off, and you've been so flattered by his attention that you haven't noticed."
"You're jealous," Sophie said, but even as she said it, doubt crept in. "You don't like that I'm happy without you."
"I'm not jealous—okay, I'm jealous, I'm definitely jealous, but that's not why I'm telling you this." Liam's eyes were wet. "I'm telling you because I love you. Because even if you never forgive me, even if you hate me for the rest of your life, I can't watch him destroy you without at least trying to save you."
"And what makes you think I need saving?" Sophie's voice was sharp, defensive.
"You don't. You're brilliant and talented and capable. But you're also kind, and he's using that kindness against you." Liam took her face in his hands. "Please, Sophie. Just think about what I've said. Look at the evidence. Ask yourself if the things he does make you happy or if they make you feel obligated."
Before Sophie could respond, Marcus appeared in the doorway, his expression thunderous.
"What's going on here?" he demanded. "Sophie, we need to go. The collector is leaving."
"Actually," Sophie said slowly, "I need to talk to you about something."
Marcus's face changed in an instant. The charming mask slipped, and something dangerous emerged. "I don't think that's a good idea right now."
"Why not?" Sophie stepped back, away from both of them.
"Because clearly your little friend has been poisoning you against me." Marcus's voice was low, controlled, but his eyes burned with fury. "And that's disappointing, Sophie. That's very disappointing. After everything I've done for you, after opening all these doors, you choose to believe a jealous boy who can't stand to see you succeed without him?"
"He's trying to help me," Sophie said, but her voice shook.
"He's trying to control you." Marcus moved toward her. "Just like he always has. He wants to keep you dependent on him, small and insignificant, just like he is."
"That's not fair," Liam said, stepping between them.
"Stay out of this," Marcus spat.
"No." Liam's voice was steady, resolved. "I'm not staying out anymore. I've been quiet about this for too long because I was trying to respect Sophie's choices. But you're a predator, and I'm not going to let you hurt her."
Marcus laughed, a cold, brittle sound. "You think you can stop me? You're nothing, Ashford. You're a small-town basketball player with no future and nothing to offer. I've already built Sophie's career. I've made her someone. Without me, she'll go back to being a talented nobody from a nothing town."
Sophie felt something crack inside her. Every compliment he'd given her, every opportunity he'd opened, suddenly felt tainted. Had any of it been real? Or had it all been part of some elaborate game to make her dependent on him?
"You're right," she said quietly. "I did need saving. But not from Liam."
She turned to Marcus, and for the first time, she let him see her anger. "I think you should leave."
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me. Leave. And don't contact me again." Sophie's voice was steady, strong. "You were right about one thing—I am talented. But my talent doesn't come from you. It comes from me. And I'm going to build my career on my own terms, with people who love me for who I am, not people who want to own me."
Marcus's face contorted with rage. "You'll regret this. You're nothing without me. No gallery will touch your work once I'm done with you. No school will accept you. You'll spend the rest of your life regretting—"
"Get out," Liam said, his voice deadly calm. He stepped toward Marcus with such intensity that the other boy actually backed away.
"This isn't over," Marcus hissed as he retreated toward the exit. "You'll both regret this."
When he was gone, Sophie felt her legs give out. Liam caught her, holding her as she shook with the release of weeks of tension and manipulation.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry. You were right about everything, and I was too stubborn and stupid to see it."
"Hey," Liam said gently, tilting her chin up to look at him. "You're not stupid. He was good at what he does. And you trusted him because you're good and kind and you see the best in people."
"I should have listened to you."
"I know. And I should have been less of a jerk about it." Liam's eyes were intense, vulnerable. "But we're past that now. What matters is that you see him for what he is, and you got away from him."
Sophie looked at her photographs lining the gallery walls—work she'd created with her own talent, her own vision. "I did that," she said softly. "I made that. Not him."
"You did," Liam agreed. "And you're going to do so much more."
They stood together in the quiet gallery, surrounded by Sophie's art, and for the first time in weeks, the air between them felt lighter. The anger and distance that had driven them apart suddenly seemed small and insignificant compared to what they'd been through together.