Everyone Underestimate Liam Cross

3: Looser

LIAM CROSS.

The phone kept ringing, Mason's name kept flashing across the screen again and again. Isla’s hand trembled slightly as she reached to silence the call, but she tried to hide it... lifting her chin, and crossing her arms like she was the one in control.

Her eyes glimmered with defiance, yet I could see the storm brewing beneath guilt tangled with pride, shame wrestling with arrogance.

“And so?” she said in a loud shaky whisper that ripped through me. And so? The woman who once cried over my pain now stood there, daring me to question her. No traces of remorse, or love we used to know.

“Isla,” I said slowly, disbelief thick in my throat. “I’m your husband.” My words felt pathetic, as her gaze drifted away like that title meant nothing anymore.

The phone buzzed again on the dresser, that cursed name lighting up once more. My chest tightened as I stepped closer.

“Look at me, Isla.”

She turned then, her eyes locking with mine... cold, steady, and unflinching. No tears, or fear on her face. Just the quiet challenge of a woman who no longer cared if she broke me completely.

“Say it, Isla. Say you’re sleeping with him.”

She tilted her head slightly, I watched as her lips curling into a faint smirk that never reached her eyes. There was no remorse in her expression, just cold defiance, the kind that said she’d already made peace with being cruel.

“And what if I am?”Her voice came out smooth.

The air went still. Even the ticking clock on the wall seemed to hold its breath. My world felt like it collapsed right there... quietly, and violently. I clutched my chest as a sharp pain tore through me, stealing every ounce of air I had left. My knees wobbled, I could hear my heartbeat thundered in my ears, and the room began to spin.

“Liam?” she said, hesitant and caring for half a second before her tone turned harsh again. “Is this pretense so I’ll leave Mason?”

Her face held half worried, half annoyed, like she couldn’t decide whether to help me or walk away.

“I… I can’t… bre...” The words barely escaped my lips as I staggered backward, gasping for air. My fingers clawed at my chest, my breath shallow and uneven.

She scoffed, shaking her head with a bitter laugh. “You always want attention. All the attention you’ve been getting since the accident... it’s still not enough for you, right, Liam?”

Her words echoed faintly as my vision blurred. The floor felt like it was tilting beneath me. I tried to say her name, but the sound never came out.

Then everything went black.

*****

When next I opened my eyes, everything was white... the ceiling, the walls, the faint sheets that smelled faintly of antiseptic. My throat burned, and my chest felt like it had been cracked open and stitched back together wrong.

I blinked slowly, the sound of the heart monitor echoing softly beside me. Then I heard a deep stern voice.

“So, you finally decided to wake up,” Mr. Gregory Davenport said from the corner of the room. He was sitting on a hospital stool with his back straight, his arms folded, and his cold eyes fixed on me like I’d committed a personal offense just by surviving.

I tried to sit up, but pain shot through my ribs. “W-what happened?”

He snorted. “You collapsed, that’s what happened. A grown man gasping on the floor like a dying fish. Embarrassing doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

I swallowed hard. The dryness in my throat made it difficult to speak. “Where’s Isla?”

He stood up slowly, his suit crisp, his expression hard enough. “She’s doing fine. Unlike you, she doesn’t need to be pitied or carried around like a child.” My chest tightened again.

“Don’t,” he snapped. “Don’t start with your excuses, Liam. I warned my daughter that marrying an athlete was a mistake. And look at you now, no career, no pride, nothing left but a pair of broken knees.”

I clenched my fists beneath the sheets, anger and shame wrestling in my chest. “You think I asked for this? You think I wanted to end up like this?”

He leaned closer, his voice sounding low, . “Wanting doesn’t matter, results do. And your results are worthless.”

He reached into his briefcase and pulled out a white envelope. He dropped it on the side table beside my bed.

“Divorce papers,” he said flatly. “Sign them. Today Isla’s moving on, and you’re not part of her future.”

My breath caught. “You mean you told her to move on.”

His jaw tightened. “I didn’t have to. She already realized what the rest of us knew, and that is... she made a mistake choosing you.”

For a moment, the silence between us was suffocating. The machine beside me beeped, steady and cruel, marking every second of humiliation.

He picked up my duffel bag from the floor and tossed it toward me. “Your things. I had the nurse pack them. Once you’re discharged, don’t bother coming back to my house. You’re no longer welcome.”

I stared at him, the edges of my vision blurring from the crushing weight of it all.

“Mr. Davenport…” I managed weakly. “I loved her.”

He gave a bitter, humorless smile. “Then that’s your biggest mistake yet.”

And with that, he turned and walked out, leaving me with the sound of the door clicking shut loudly.

Mason Drake finally got to her just like he promised years ago.

You see, my wife, Isla Davenport, was the kind of woman who could silence a room with just her presence. Her beauty wasn’t loud, and magnetic. The kind that made every man’s neck turn without realizing it.

Long legs, honey-brown skin. Even when I trained, and she came by with her usual soft smile, the guys would whistle or throw teasing remarks.

But Mason… his teasing was different. It wasn’t playful, but it was venom laced with envy.

“You don’t deserve that position,” he used to say during practice. “You don’t deserve this game. And you sure as hell don’t deserve that gorgeous woman. All of it will be mine someday.”

Mason and I were teammates once, but we never truly were on the same side. I was faster, more disciplined, and more focused. He was talented, sure... but his ego couldn’t handle coming second.

When the coach picked me for the national championship instead of him, that was the final crack. He left our team, joined another where he could be number one without me in his way.

Then came the day everything ended. The race that should’ve made my name legendary. Instead, it broke me. My knees gave out halfway through a sprint, and I crashed to the track in a pain I’ll never forget.

I remember lying there, barely conscious, when Mason came to see me in the hospital. He stood beside my bed, smirking with glinting eyes which held satisfaction.

He leaned in close and whispered the same words he’d thrown at me before:

“You don’t deserve this position. You don’t deserve this game. And you don’t deserve that gorgeous woman. All of it will be mine soon.”

And now, everything is. My title, my career, and my wife.

Everything that once was mine... now belong to Mason Drake.