Chapter 1

He threw the divorce papers at my face.

“Sign it,” Lucas said.

With no sympathy and no feelings, his fingers dug into my jaw, pinning me so hard against the wall like I was an animal that might bite. Three years of marriage. Three years of lies and deceit. He had only ever touched me when his mother ordered it… and he chose right now to throw me out.

“I won’t.”

It was the first time I had ever stood facing him without breaking.

His mother laughed from the doorway. Her Chanel perfume couldn’t hide the smell of bleach and smoke. “Barren and useless,” she said, spitting out her forever description of me. “My son needs an heir, Elena, not a charity case.”

Victoria Hale. The woman who taught me how to set a table for forty and how to disappear when her friends came. She stepped into the light, her pearls and Dior flickering with gold.

“You heard my son.” She tapped her manicured nail on the mahogany table. “Sign. Or I call security. They’ll drag you out the way we drag trash to the curb.”

Just then, the door opened, revealing my worst enemy: Celine. A lady I had once called a friend.

She wore a red dress tight as skin, wearing that same fake smile she always wore. She placed her right hand on her stomach. She was five months round—with his baby. She didn’t look at me; she ignored me like I didn't even exist. Instead, she walked right up to Lucas, stood on her toes, and kissed him.

Right in front of me.

His hand was still gripping my jaw, yet he let her kiss him.

My stomach dropped—not from jealousy, but from memories. I remembered eight months ago in the bathroom, at exactly 3:00 AM. My blood on the tile, no one to help, No one to call. My hands had stayed pressed between my legs while my eyes stayed glued to the blood on the floor.

His child.... Our child.... Gone.

The only night his mother had allowed him to touch me, the only time he saw me as something… the moment I had cherished with everything I had .......was spilled across the bathroom floor.

I had crawled to the phone in agonizing pain and dialed his line severally, but it always ended in voicemail. The last time I tried, a flicker of hope went through me when he finally picked up.

But I was caught up by a female voice.

Celine answered, giggling. “He’s busy, Mrs. Hale. Try not to die alone.”

I bled for six hours alone.

Lucas came home at dawn. He saw the blood. He saw me on the floor. He stepped right over me and went to the shower. He never even asked what I lost.

Back in the mansion, the reality crashed back.

“Sign it, Elena,” Lucas said against my mouth. His thumb pressed hard into my bottom lip. A slap would have been kinder; this was a blade on glass. “Don’t make this ugly.”

Ugly?

I quit MIT for him.

I learned to cook his mother’s soup.

I knelt when she called me trash.

I buried his child alone while he was inside Celine.

And I was making it ugly?

I looked past him at Celine, her hand still staying on her stomach with his baby.

“You’re due in March?” I said.

Celine blinked, completely confused. “What?

“The baby. You’re five months. A March due date.”

Lucas’s fingers twitched on my jaw.

“How do you—” Celine started.

“Because I was due in March too,” I said. “Last year. Before I lost it on your bathroom floor.”

The room went dead silent. Victoria’s smile completely cracked.

“You didn’t tell me,” Lucas said.

I looked at him. Really, Lucas? He didn't move, and he didn't blink, but I saw it the guilt hit him all at once. He had nowhere to put it. He looked like he wanted to say sorry. Like he wanted to reach for me. Like he wanted to break something.

Instead, he just stood there, saying nothing.

I picked up the pen. My hand was steady. Three years of practice, three years of being a slave.

Celine recovered first, scoffing. “Finally. She knows her place.”

I signed my name.Elena Hale One last time. Next time, my signature would be Elena Vale and Vale meant "farewell” in Latin.

I pushed the papers hard against her chest.

“Your turn,” I said. “Practice writing homewrecker. You’ll need it for court.”

Lucas dropped his grip on my face like I had burned him. He caught Celine’s elbow. “We’re leaving.”

He left. He kept his arm around her and didn’t even care to look back.

His mother stepped close to me. She spat, and it hit my bare foot. “Be gone by dark. Or I set the dogs on you.”

I stood in his mansion with nothing,No shoes, no phone, no cash.

I walked upstairs to the room that was never truly mine. My clothes were gone. The closet was entirely empty, the drawers ripped out of everything.

On the bed sat a single trash bag. Inside it was my old MIT hoodie, torn and stained. The one I wore the night he proposed. Victoria’s work.

I picked it up and wore it; it was the only option I had. It smelled like mildew and the girl I used to be.

I opened my bank app one last time. Account Frozen.

I started laughing. The sound tore out of me like a rusty nail pulling out of wood.

I walked out the front door, straight into the storm without shoes. The gate was locked, so I had to climb it. In the process, the sharp steel cut my palm open. I hit the pavement on the other side, my blood mixing with the heavy rain as I struggled to get up.

Suddenly, a black SUV came fast around the corner, with no headlights.

Celine’s face was in the window, and she was laughing. She mouthed a single word: Jump.

But my feet stayed rooted to the ground. I didn’t jump. I stood right there in the middle of the road, wearing his hoodie, barefoot and bleeding. Daring her.

For one second, her smile fell. Then, she hit the gas.

The last thing I saw was her red nails on the steering wheel. The last thing I felt was blinding pain.

The last thought that ripped through my fading consciousness wasn't a prayer for salvation. It was a vow: God, give me one more life. I won’t be good. I’ll make them bleed.

****

Elena!! Elena!!

a hand grabbed me. Someone shook me vigorously.

Victoria called, "be fast and come down for dinner!”

I snapped my eyes open, gasping for air.

A pristine white lace dress hung beautifully on a chair across the room my wedding dress. On the wall hung a calendar. Three years ago. Today’s date. My wedding night.

I sat up fast. My hands weren't cut. My feet were not bleeding. I wasn't drenched in blood and rain.

I hurriedly ran toward the big mirror hanging on the wall and stared at my reflection.

I was back. I wasn't dead.