Delilah nodded, letting Mrs. Madison share what she needed.
She knew this was part of the process — allowing her clients to feel understood, safe in a way they likely hadn’t felt in years.
"He controls everything," Mrs. Madison continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "My finances, my social life. I can’t even call my family without him monitoring the conversation." She paused, swallowing hard. "And when he’s angry… well, you can see the result."
Delilah’s gaze didn’t waver, though her fingers tightened subtly around the edge of the table.
She had seen women like Mrs. Madison before — trapped in gilded cages, their freedom stripped away layer by layer until all that remained was a husk of the person they used to be.
"Alright," Delilah finally said, her tone steady. "When do you
