Chapter 1

"Who were you calling, Ava?"

Liam's voice cut through the silence of the large, sterile living room. I flinched, my fingers tightening around the phone in my pocket. I had just ended a call with a discreet service, my last hope for escape.

"No one," I said, my voice barely a whisper. I kept my eyes on the floor, on the cold marble that seemed to reflect my own emptiness.

He walked toward me, his expensive leather shoes making no sound on the thick rug. I could feel his presence looming over me, a shadow that had blotted out all the light in my life. He was no longer the man I loved, the brilliant tech genius who had promised me the world. He was a monster.

"Don't lie to me," he said, his voice dangerously low. "You know I hate it when you lie."

I finally looked up, meeting his cold, empty eyes. They were the same eyes that once looked at me with so much love, but now they only held a chilling hatred. "It was just a wrong number, Liam."

He didn't believe me. His hand shot out and grabbed my wrist, his fingers digging into my skin like steel clamps. I gasped in pain as he twisted my arm, forcing the phone from my grasp. It clattered onto the marble floor.

"Let go of me," I begged, trying to pull away, but his grip was unyielding.

He laughed, a harsh, ugly sound that echoed in the vast room. "Let go? After what you did? You don't get to make demands, Ava. You lost that right the day you killed Chloe."

His words hit me harder than any physical blow. Chloe. My sister. His accusation was a poison he injected into me every single day. I didn't kill her. It was an accident. But he refused to believe it, consumed by a grief that had twisted into a vengeful obsession.

He shoved me backward, and I stumbled, my back hitting the sharp edge of a glass coffee table. A sharp pain shot through my spine, but I bit my lip to keep from crying out. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction. I straightened up slowly, my movements stiff, my face a mask of practiced indifference. This was my shield, the only thing that kept me from shattering completely.

"I didn't kill her," I said, my voice flat and devoid of emotion. I had said it a thousand times. It never changed anything.

He ignored me, picking up my phone and scrolling through the call history. His face darkened when he saw the unknown number. He looked at me, a cruel smile playing on his lips. "Planning your escape?"

He walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the city. This penthouse, once our dream home, was now my gilded cage. He held the phone up, dangling it over the open air.

"No!" I cried, a genuine panic breaking through my composure. That number was my only way out.

"This is what happens to things that try to leave me," he said calmly, and he let the phone go. I watched it fall, a tiny black speck disappearing into the night, taking my last sliver of hope with it.

He turned back to me, his expression unreadable. "Now, come here." It wasn't a request. It was a command.

My body moved against my will, a puppet responding to its master. Fear was a cold, heavy weight in my stomach. He led me to the bedroom, the room that was once filled with our laughter and plans for the future. He pushed me onto the bed, his weight pinning me down. The scent of his expensive cologne, a scent I once loved, now made me sick.

His touch was rough, possessive, a brutal reminder of his ownership. It was a violation, a punishment he inflicted on me night after night. I closed my eyes and endured it, my mind detaching from my body. I focused on the dull ache in my back, the sting on my wrist, anything to distract from the humiliation. The physical pain was a familiar anchor in a sea of emotional torment.

After he was done, he rolled off me and lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. I could feel the tremors running through my body, the silent sobs trapped in my chest.

"I loved her, Ava," he whispered into the darkness, his voice suddenly filled with a raw, broken grief. "She was everything. And you took her from me. You stood on that balcony and you watched her fall."

My heart clenched. He was wrong. I was inside, looking for her, when I heard the screams. By the time I got to the balcony, it was too late. But he had created his own version of that night, a version where I was the villain.

I didn't answer. There was nothing left to say. I waited until I heard his breathing even out into a deep sleep. Then, I carefully slipped out of the bed. I walked back into the living room, my bare feet cold against the marble. My eyes landed on a framed photo on the mantelpiece. It was of the three of us: me, Liam, and Chloe, taken on the day of our engagement. We were all smiling, a perfect picture of happiness.

With a surge of cold, clear rage, I picked up the heavy frame. My hands were shaking, but my resolve was firm. I walked over to the window he had just used to destroy my phone. I stared at the photo, at the ghost of the man I loved and the sister who was gone. Then, I hurled it into the void. It shattered against the side of the building, the sound lost in the city's hum.

It was over. The love, the hope, the life we were supposed to have, it was all gone, smashed into a million pieces.

I stood there for a long time, the cool night air washing over me. He had destroyed my phone, but he hadn't destroyed the number memorized in my head. He hadn't destroyed my will to survive. I would call them again. I would find a way. Even if it meant I had to die to be free.

Tomorrow. I would start again tomorrow.