Chapter 3

(Domenica) POV:

I slipped the encrypted phone back into my pocket and dragged my suitcase down the tree-lined street outside the estate, the cold night breeze carrying the crisp scent of freedom.

The everyday phone in my pocket buzzed frantically. Seeing my cousin-in-law Penelope White's name flashing on the screen, I frowned slightly and pressed answer.

"Domenica! Where the hell did you die off to? Tomorrow is my wedding of the century, so get your ass over here and steam my wedding dress right now!"

Penelope's shrill voice grated on my eardrums. For three years, every single member of the White family had treated me like a free live-in maid.

"Penelope, your wedding has nothing to do with me. Go find someone else to be your servant," I said calmly.

There were two seconds of dead silence on the other end before she exploded.

"Are you out of your mind? You eat our food and live under our roof! What's wrong with making you do some chores?"

I didn't bother listening to her tantrum. I hung up and added her number to my block list right next to Curtis's.

Walking to the intersection, I unlocked my secondhand Chevrolet, tossed the suitcase into the backseat, and slid behind the wheel to start the engine.

Two blocks down the road, my phone screen lit up again as I stopped at a red light. A video had just been posted in the White family group chat.

I tapped play. On the screen, Brant was kneeling at the feet of Elenora Mccarty, the iron-fisted matriarch of the old-money White family, sobbing her heart out.

"Grandma Elenora, you have to stand up for Curtis! Domenica didn't just hook up with some wild man outside—she splashed hot coffee all over me to cover up her guilt!" Brant wailed.

Beside her, Curtis stood clutching his sprained wrist, nodding with a pained expression to back up Brant's lies.

Sitting in the main armchair, Elenora gripped her redwood cane, her wrinkled face dark with rage before she swept her teacup off the table, shattering it on the floor.

"Disgraceful! How could our century-old White family tolerate such a shameless, low-class slut!" Elenora's gravelly voice boomed through the speaker.

I watched the clowns putting on their little show and curled my lips into a cold sneer. The light turned green, and I pressed down on the gas pedal.

The video kept playing. Elenora turned her sharp gaze toward Curtis's arrogant younger cousin, Clair Stephenson, who was standing by the wall.

"Clair, take some men and drag that bitch back here! Before Penelope's wedding tomorrow, I'm going to use our family law to teach her some rules!" Elenora ordered.

"Yes, Grandma! I'll make sure she crawls back on her knees!" Clair rubbed his hands together, a cruel grin spreading across his face.

I shut off the screen and tossed the phone onto the passenger seat as neon streetlamps stretched across the windshield.

The low-fuel light dinged on the dashboard. I glanced at the gauge, spun the steering wheel, and pulled into a 24-hour gas station up ahead.

Stepping out of the car, I lifted the nozzle and slid it into the tank. The cold wind blew my long hair back, keeping my head crystal clear.

For three years, Elenora's so-called "family law" meant locking me in the basement without food or water to break my spine.

Now the seal on my identity was gone. I was the head of Apex and the heir of the Justice family; no one would ever make me bow my head again.

Tires screeched across the quiet lot. A flashy bright-yellow Porsche 911 swerved in and parked sideways right in front of my Chevrolet, blocking my exit.

The doors flew open. Clair swaggered toward me flanked by four burly bodyguards in black suits, a nasty smirk plastered across his face.

"Keep running! Why aren't you running anymore, you shameless bitch?" Clair stopped three paces away and spat on the concrete.

I looked at him without a trace of expression, my hand steady on the fuel nozzle.

"Clair, are you sure you want to provoke me for a piece of trash like Curtis?" My voice was as freezing as a winter storm.

Clair shivered slightly under my gaze, but with four guards behind him, he shoved his unease down and pulled out his phone. He opened a live stream on social media, shoving the camera lens toward my face under the title: Punishing the Cheating Society Slut.

"Come on, say hello to everyone in Los Angeles! Let's let the whole internet watch how I break your cheap bones tonight!" Clair barked into his microphone.