Chapter 2

02

The next time I opened my eyes, I was strapped to a bed in a psychiatric ward.

My wrists and ankles were raw from the leather restraints.

There was a rubber gag in my mouth, silencing any sound I tried to make.

The sterile white room smelled of stale urine and heavy disinfectant.

The calendar on the wall showed that I had been "unconscious" for forty days.

"Miss Moore is awake again?" A man in a white coat walked in.

He held a long needle filled with a liquid that glowed with a strange blue tint.

It was Dr. Miller, Silas's private physician.

Last year, when I was dehydrated from morning sickness, he was the one who gave me my IVs.

He forced my mouth open, pushing the rubber gag deeper.

"Mr. Sterling gave the orders. You're too unstable. You need some special medication."

The moment the needle pierced my vein, my body convulsed violently.

It wasn't a normal sedative.

It felt like a neurotoxin, crawling through my blood and into my brain, making my nerves scream.

Gold stars exploded in my vision, and suppressed memories flooded back like broken glass.

When I was fifteen, a group of thugs tried to corner me in an alley.

Silas had charged in with a brick, his forehead bleeding as he shielded me.

When we graduated high school, he took me on his beat-up bike through the park.

"Lyra, let's go to Chicago together. They have everything there."

On my twentieth birthday, he used his savings to buy a silver ring.

Under my dorm building, he said, "When my business takes off, I'm going to marry you."

On our wedding day, he carried me into our new home.

"Lyra, the Sterling house is your home now."

All those sweet words were now nothing but serrated knives carving at my heart.

After what felt like an eternity, Dr. Miller pulled the needle out.

He placed a divorce agreement in front of me, tapping the signature line with a pen.

"Sign it. Mr. Sterling says he can let you die with a little dignity if you do."

I closed my eyes, my teeth sinking into the rubber gag until I tasted blood.

"Have it your way then," he sneered, pulling out an electric shock device.

As the current surged through my temples, I felt my skull vibrate.

My consciousness was crushed into dust.

Yet, one thought remained abnormally clear―I cannot die.

I have to get out. I have to find my son.

Bianca said she would "take good care of him."

Knowing her cruelty, he was definitely alive, just hidden away.

The next time I "woke up," I began to play the part of the lunatic.

I would hold my pillow and scream "my baby."

I would rip at my hair and throw my food at the nurses.

Dr. Miller increased my dosage, and Silas visited less and less.

Every time he came, he looked at me with pure disgust.

No one noticed that I was hiding the undigested pills in the cracks of the bed frame.

No one noticed that I was secretly memorizing the guard's shift changes.

And no one realized I was using a hidden hairpin to slowly pick the lock on my restraints.

On the seventy-third night, the last lock finally snapped.

The nurse was fast asleep, drool dripping from her mouth.

She probably thought a woman drugged into a stupor couldn't possibly do anything.

I slipped into her uniform and used her keys to unlock the door.

At the end of the hallway, I saw Dr. Miller on the phone.

"Don't worry... her brain is pretty much fried now..."

"I'll make sure she 'voluntarily' signs the transfer of the Moore Holdings shares."

So that was it.

Silas didn't just hate me for "lying." He wanted my family's wealth.

My father had locked thirty percent of the company's shares in a trust before he died.

Only I could activate them.

I clenched my fists until my nails drew blood in my palms.

I ran into Silas at the stairwell; he was there for a late-night check-in.

He froze, his brow furrowing. "What are you doing out of bed?"

I kept my head down, mimicking the nurse's voice.

"Mr. Sterling, Dr. Miller asked me to bring you a file."

The moment he reached for it, I grabbed a heavy fire wrench and slammed it into his head.

Blood trickled down his forehead as he stared at me in disbelief. "You're not crazy?"

"Thanks to you, I've never been clearer."

I grabbed his fallen phone and bolted for the emergency exit.

His enraged roar echoed behind me, but I ran faster than I ever had.

I had already crawled out of hell. What was left to fear?