Chapter 1
Two hundred strikes.
I counted each one in my head, even when my vision blurred and the pain turned to white noise.
Ethan’s leather belt cracked against my back again and again, the edge sharp enough to split skin through my thin silk dress.
Sophia sat on the velvet couch ten feet away, flute of champagne in one hand, manicured finger tapping the air with every hit.
“One seventy-two,” she purred, swirling the golden liquid. “You’re rushing, baby. Make them count.”
Ethan grunted, adjusting his grip.
The marble foyer of our Dallas mansion smelled like expensive champagne and my own blood.
My cheek was pressed to the white carpet, the fibers sticky and wet under my skin.
I couldn’t move.
Every muscle in my body screamed, every breath a knife twisted between my ribs.
I’d stayed for three years.
Swallowed every insult.
Hidden every bruise under long sleeves and high collars.
I’d stayed because Ethan’s family trust paid for my mom’s cancer treatment.
I’d stayed because I thought if I was quiet enough, good enough, the man I’d married would come back to me.
“One ninety-eight,” Sophia said, smiling.
Her red lipstick was perfect, not a hair out of place.
“One ninety-nine.”
Ethan’s arm drew back one last time.
The belt hit so hard I saw stars.
“Two hundred.”
Sophia laughed, the sound light and bright as wind chimes.
“Told you she couldn’t even keep track. She mumbled the last ten.”
Ethan tossed the belt aside like it was trash.
He stepped over me, Italian leather shoe catching my side hard enough to make me gasp.
“Next time you glare at her like she’s dirt,” he said, voice cold, “remember this.”
I bit my lip until I tasted copper.
Too weak to make a sound.
Too broken to even cry.
Sophia stood, stilettos clicking sharp on the marble.
She crouched down next to me, sweet vanilla perfume thick enough to make me gag.
She fisted a handful of my hair, yanking my head back so I had to look into her cold blue eyes.
“By next month,” she whispered, breath hot on my face, “this house will be mine. Your car. Your jewelry. Every last thing your daddy left you.”
She let go.
My skull thudded against the carpet, black spots dancing across my vision.
“Clean this mess up before we get home,” Ethan called over his shoulder, wrapping an arm around her waist.
“We’re going to the country club to celebrate.”
The front door slammed shut.
The deadbolt clicked loud in the silence.
I lay there for what felt like hours.
Every shift of my body sent fire racing up my spine.
Then my phone buzzed on the entry table.
Just out of reach.
I dragged myself across the floor, leaving a dark red streak behind me.
Fingers shaking so bad I could barely close them around the cold glass.
I didn’t call 911.
I didn’t call my mom.
I scrolled to a contact I’d saved the first night Ethan hit me, three years prior.
One letter.
J.
He’d been my dad’s right hand man, back before we lost the company, back before my dad died.
He’d pulled me aside at the funeral, voice rough.
“Any time, little bird. Any reason. No questions asked. I’ll burn his whole world to ash if you say the word.”
I pressed call.
He answered on the first ring.
“Lila?”
My voice was barely a rasp, raw from screaming into the carpet.
“It’s time.”
Before I could hang up, I heard tires screech to a halt in the driveway.
Not one car.
May you like
Five big black SUVs, engines still rumbling.
The front door burst open.
