Chapter 1
I clamped both hands over my mouth and nose, carefully regulating my breathing to slow and even it out.
My scattered consciousness slowly drifted back into focus.
Miles loomed over me, staring down as his leather shoe crunched over shards of broken glass. "Why aren't you throwing your little tantrum now? Where'd that rabid, glass-smashing energy go?"
He stepped forward and grabbed my jaw, his grip so tight it sent a sharp, throbbing pain up my jawline. "Holly Quinn, wake up and smell the coffee. The company's mine. The house is in my name. Even the right to breathe in this room is a favor I gave you. Don't push your luck when I'm being generous."
In my past life, I would have spiraled into another breakdown the second I heard those words.
Not now. I twisted my head to the side and wrenched my face out of his grasp.
My voice came out rough and parched. "You've already taken everything. Why can't you just let me go?"
Miles's eyes darkened sharply. "As long as you behave yourself, you can still be Mrs. York. No one's stopping that."
He gave my cheek a sharp, mocking pat, his voice ice-cold. "If you don't? I'll have you tossed straight into a psych ward. Sierra will write up any diagnosis I ask for, no questions asked."
The second I heard Sierra's name, my stomach lurched violently, bile rising in my throat.
I'd pulled her out of that remote mountain village, saved her from the hands of human traffickers, only for her to stab me in the back and shove me straight into hell.
A shard of glass dug deeper into my palm, the searing pain cutting through the roiling rage and grief threatening to overflow.
Miles didn't notice a thing and kept pressing his point. "And let's be real, I can't promise what those lunatics in the psych ward might do to you. Anything could happen."
I lifted my eyes and stared quietly at the face I'd loved for years, getting lost in thought for a moment.
Miles took my silence as surrender and burst out laughing, loud and arrogant. "There we go. That's my good wife."
My stomach cramped so hard I doubled over, acid burning its way up my throat before I could stop it. I retched violently, heaving up the contents of my stomach.
Miles jumped back a full step, his face twisted with disgust, terrified he'd get splattered.
"Tomorrow's our wedding anniversary. I'm going to announce publicly that your condition has gotten worse, and I'll be officially taking over full control of the company. I'm also hiring Sierra as my personal advisor."
A cold, dead chill settled over my chest.
In my past life, my death let him inherit the company smoothly and take everything without a single hitch.
Not this lifetime. He wasn't going to get that lucky again.
He needed my "health issues" to convince the board to let him take over.
That was the only reason I was still breathing right now.
I stared at his sharp, handsome face, and a flood of old, warm memories flashed through my head like a dying movie reel.
To get close to me, Miles had pulled out all the stops, memorized every single little thing I liked.
When he found out I had stomach issues, he brought me home-cooked meals every single day, no exceptions, even when I turned them down cold.
When he saw I got chilblains on my hands every winter, he'd slather hand cream on my fingers gently, every single time I washed my hands.
Little by little, he'd wormed his way into my heart, earned a spot as my family.
All of it was an act. Every single second.
I pressed the glass shard in my palm even deeper.
A ringtone buzzed from Miles's pocket, yanking me out of my thoughts.
He tossed me a glance, then turned and headed upstairs to take the call.
The second he left, Sierra walked through the door, a medical kit swinging from her hand.
Her eyes flicked over the total mess covering the floor, and the disgust on her face was impossible to miss. "Mrs. York, you'd better go take a shower before we start the treatment. The stale stench clinging to you is disgusting."
A business card lay discarded on the floor. While she was busy rummaging through her medical kit, I slipped it quietly into my cuff.
Sierra slouched back against the sofa like she owned the place, fidgeting with her fresh manicure, her tone sharp with impatience. "What are you smiling to yourself about? Hurry up, don't waste my time. I still have to go eat with Miles. I seriously don't get him. He makes me watch you take your pills every single day? Waiting on a lunatic like you is so unlucky!"
I kept my face blank and meekly let her do her examination.
As usual, she held out two white pills for me to take.
I knew exactly what those were—long-term use was what kept me foggy, depressed, and perpetually drowsy, easy for them to control.
"Hurry up and take them! Quit dragging your feet!"
Hatred roared in my chest, but I crushed every last spark of it down.
Under her watchful eye, I tilted my head back and forced the pills down without water.
Just then, footsteps echoed through the villa. Sierra looked toward the sound, and her expression shifted instantly.
