Chapter 2

The front door slammed open just after 2 a.m., the sound echoing through the cavernous penthouse.

I heard Ethan' s heavy footsteps, unsteady and angry. He was drunk.

He stormed into the living room, tearing at the knot of his tie. His face was flushed, his eyes wild. He was looking for me.

"Maria!" he yelled, his voice raw. "Where are you? Sing for me."

I stepped out of my room, standing in the dim light of the hallway. I just looked at him, my hands clasped in front of me.

"What are you doing just standing there? I said sing!" he snarled. "Sing the one my mother used to sing. The one about the river."

I remained silent. I simply shook my head, just once.

His face contorted with rage. "What? Are you defying me now? After everything I' ve given you? You think because I' m getting married you can pull this stunt?"

He strode towards me, his presence overwhelming. He grabbed my shoulders, his fingers digging into my skin.

"You are nothing without me! A gutter singer from a swamp city! I made you! You will do as I say!"

He shook me, and I let my body go limp, my head lolling to the side. I kept my eyes on his, my expression blank.

He saw the cut on my forehead, a thin line of blood from where I had "accidentally" hit my head on the doorframe earlier. He didn' t care.

He shoved me away, and I stumbled back against the wall.

"Useless," he spat, turning away in disgust. He grabbed a crystal glass from the bar cart and hurled it against the far wall. It shattered, the sound sharp and violent in the quiet room.

He stormed towards his office, fuming. "I' m done with you. Get out of my sight."

He slammed the office door shut.

I waited, my heart pounding a steady, controlled rhythm. This was the moment.

He had left his suit jacket slung over the back of a chair.

I walked over to it, my movements calm and deliberate. I reached into the inner pocket. My fingers closed around the cool, heavy metal.

The key to his private safe.

I slipped it into the pocket of my dress.

I walked silently back to my room, closing the door without a sound. I sat on my bed, the key a heavy weight in my palm. A key to a safe. A key to my father' s legacy. A key to my freedom.

I knew Ethan' s schedule. He would pass out in his office. He wouldn' t wake until morning. The engagement party, the fight with me, the alcohol-it was the perfect storm.

I laid out my plan in my head.

The safe was behind a painting in his office. Inside was the ledger, my old, fake passport, and a stash of emergency cash.

The Greyhound station was a thirty-minute cab ride away. The first bus heading south, to Louisiana, left at 4:15 a.m.

By the time he woke up, I would be gone. A ghost.

His new fiancée, Sylvia, was a blessing in disguise. Her campaign to erase Ethan' s past had made my own disappearance all the more plausible. He would think her team had simply… disposed of me. It would buy me time.

Sylvia herself was a force of nature. I' d seen her at the penthouse once before the engagement was announced. She walked in as if she owned the place, her eyes sweeping over the decor with disdain. She' d looked right through me, as if I were a piece of furniture.

She had her own agenda, her own power. Her focus would be on the wedding, on solidifying her position. A missing singer would be a minor annoyance, a loose end to be tied up cleanly and forgotten.

That was my advantage. They were all so busy playing their power games, they wouldn' t see the real threat until it was too late.

I waited until the silence in the penthouse was absolute. Then, I moved.