MR. AND MRS. LIAM: A Perfect Lie.

Amber’s POV

> Wetland Event Center — 8 p.m. <<

“Smile for the camera,” my husband, Vincent Liam, whispered in an authoritative tone, yet his bright smile never left his face as he stared at the camera and waved happily at the audience watching us.

How can he pretend as if nothing happened twenty minutes ago? How can he smile happily as if I didn’t just walk in on him kissing one of the waitresses in the janitor’s room?

“I said, smile!” he growled through gritted teeth. His left arm, wrapped around my waist, tightened, and his free hand pinched my lower back.

I wanted to pull away from him, but my wandering eyes landed on my mother-in-law, who was holding her glass of champagne tightly while glaring at me, daring me to make any sudden movements.

I swallowed hard, forcing down my pain, and wore a weak smile. “You’re hurting me,” I whispered to my husband.

“Then fix your attitude until the ceremony is over,” he warned.

I wanted to argue with him, but then again, I locked eyes with my stepfather, who was also glaring at me. Just like my mother-in-law, he was daring me to misbehave.

“Don’t destroy my image in the industry, or I swear, you’ll regret coming into my life!”

Today’s ceremony was all about Vincent. Today was the day he officially took over his father’s business—chains of hotels and cement companies—and dignified personnel from all walks of life had come to honor him. It wouldn’t be nice if I caused a scene here, so it was best to wait until we got home to discuss his infidelity.

Forcing a bright smile onto my face, I waved at the audience while reporters continued taking photos of Vincent and me.

The rest of the ceremony continued with Vincent and me walking arm in arm, greeting our guests and pretending to be the happiest and most loving couple ever.

> The Liams’ Villa — 11 p.m. <<

My head rested against the car window as I watched our driver, Mike, drive through the big gates and head straight to the garage.

Vincent's head rested against the headrest as he slept soundly. He must be tired from all the socializing at the ceremony earlier... or maybe he was just tired from banging that waitress.

“Mrs. Liam,” Mike called as he held the door open for me. “We’re home,” he said.

A heavy, deep sigh left my lips as I stared outside once more. Home... a home where I’m not welcome.

Turning back to Vincent, I gave him a gentle nudge, and his eyes snapped open.

“We’re home,” I repeated Mike’s words.

Vincent simply nodded and alighted from the car, then headed toward the house without waiting for me or even turning to see if I was following behind him.

Rolling my eyes, I also alighted from the car and rushed after him.

“We need to talk,” I said immediately after we got inside.

He ignored me and headed upstairs toward our room.

I quickly rushed in front of him with my arms spread out, preventing him from going any further.

He gave me an offended glare. “Can’t we have this talk in the morning? I’m already worn out because...”

“I can’t wait until tomorrow,” I interrupted him.

He narrowed his eyes immediately after I said that, not pleased with the tone I had used, but I ignored his expression and continued.

“Why?”

“Why what?” he asked back.

I inhaled deeply. “Aren’t you tired of everything going on between us? Why can’t we be like other couples? Why did you marry me in the first place if you’re just going to treat me like trash? Why don’t you respect me as your wife?”

He furrowed his brows and tilted his head slightly, as if trying to understand the words that had just left my mouth.

“My wife...” He let out a sarcastic laugh. “No. You’re not my wife, and I would never consider making someone like you my wife, neither would I acknowledge you as one.”

His words struck my heart as though a knife had been thrown at it. I wanted to ask him what he meant by those words, but words failed me at that moment, and my mouth parted as I could only stare at him in disbelief.

“You’re nothing but a wicked, selfish, gold-digging bitch!”

I knitted my brows in confusion. “What do you mean by that?” I couldn’t hold back this time.

“Oh? You thought you hid it so well, right? You think I don’t know how you got married in place of your sister?” His left brow raised, ready with an accusation. He took a step closer to me, leaned down a bit, and looked me in the eyes. “You sent thugs to kidnap her and made her miss our wedding, then you stepped forward like a knight in shining armor to save the day. You did all that so you could marry me because you’re secretly obsessed with me but couldn’t have me!”

“What?!”

“Yes.” He leaned even closer to my ear and whispered, “Love can never be forced, Amber. I don’t love you, and I will never love you. Just you watch and see how I will continue to frustrate your life and make you beg for death!”

“Listen, I... she...” He didn’t give me a chance to explain myself. He simply turned away from me and left in a hurry, taking the stairs two steps at a time.

I slumped onto the floor, rested my head against the rails, and looked around pitifully. What a beautiful house—high ceilings, a beautiful and expensive chandelier, antique furniture and paintings, marble floors—anyone would wish to live here. Many girls would envy me and wish they were the ones married to Vincent. If only they knew the sadness embedded inside this house.

Tears flowed down my face as my mind raced back to three years ago—before I became Mrs. Liam.