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My father, a titan of industry, called me in to seal my fate: an arranged marriage to solidify his empire. All eyes were on me, Liam Hayes, heir to the powerful Hayes Group, as I consented, the word heavy with unspoken guilt towards Olivia, the woman I loved for seven years. That night, back in the modest apartment I shared with Olivia-where I was just "Liam, the architect"-her phone buzzed, illuminating a message preview from "Alex Reed": "I miss you, Liv. Can't stop thinking about your birthday." My blood ran cold. Alex, her childhood friend, the one she always spoke of with strange fondness. I opened her password-free messages, and my world shattered. Conversations spanning months, years, filled with "I love yous" and "I wish we could be togethers." Then, tonight's texts: "He's with his parents. So boring. I wish you were here." Followed by, "I can't wait. I love you so much, Alex." I scrolled further, reading complaints about my "lack of ambition," our "boring life," realizing how she saw me: a placeholder. The pain was a physical blow. Seven years, a lie. The woman sleeping peacefully beside me was a stranger, a user. How could I have been so blind, so stupid? The guilt I felt about my arranged marriage vanished, replaced by a searing clarity. I was the fool, not the disloyal one. A cold resolve set in. I wouldn't be her safety net anymore. My relationship with Olivia was over, and the prearranged marriage to Charlotte Davies, the woman I hadn't even met, suddenly felt like my only escape.