DRAWN TO HELL FOR YOU

CHAPTER ONE The first time Leonard split her lip, Serena had apologized. The tenth time, she had learned to stay quiet. By the time he broke her rib, she no longer cried. And on the night he tried to end her, she did not bleed like a victim. She bled like something dangerous. The mirror in the bathroom did not recognize her anymore. Her left cheek was swollen almost beyond its shape, her lower lip torn open, the skin around her eye darkening into an ugly bruise that would be impossible to hide by morning. She stared at her reflection and wondered—absently—when she had stopped looking human and started looking like evidence. A slow drip slid from her mouth, smearing red across porcelain. Serena pressed her knuckles into the sink and breathed in short, careful breaths. Anything deeper would send lightning through her ribs. Leonard had kicked her there earlier. Calm. Mechanical. Almost bored. Three years. Three years of obedience dressed in silk. Three years of pretending silence was survival. She had been wrong. Behind her, the bedroom door slammed. Leonard’s voice followed like poison smoke. “You still standing in there playing brave?” Serena wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and straightened slowly. Her ribs protested. Her legs shook. But she stood. When she stepped back into the bedroom, Leonard was already on the bed, shoes kicked off, sleeves rolled up, face blank with that hollow calm that always came after he exploded. The kind that meant he felt nothing. Not even remorse. He didn’t look at her. Not when she crossed the room. Not when she stopped beside the dresser. Not when her fingers closed around the small black phone hidden beneath a stack of old scarves. Leonard didn’t look at her until she spoke. “I know what you did.” That got his attention. His head turned slowly. His eyes were sharp, irritated. “What are you talking about?” “My mother’s house,” Serena said quietly. “The fire. The insurance. The money.” A flicker—barely there—crossed his face. It was enough. Her mouth curved into something cruel. “I found the records,” she continued. “Took me two weeks. You’re sloppy when you think someone belongs to you.” Leonard stood. Slowly. Threateningly. “You don’t know what you’re saying.” Serena tilted her head. “No? Funny. Because the accounts tied directly to your father’s shell corporation told me everything.” His face changed then. Not anger. Not dominance. Fear. He crossed the room in two strides and grabbed her arm hard enough to grind bone together. “You think you’re smart? You think you’re untouchable? You are nothing without me.” Serena didn’t pull away. She leaned in. “You took everything from me,” she whispered. “My parents. My education. My name. You don’t get to tell me what I am now.” Leonard’s hand trembled. Whether in rage or panic, she wasn’t sure. Then he hit her. Hard. Her head snapped sideways but she stayed upright. Her mouth filled with copper again but she only smiled. Because his eyes weren’t cruel anymore. They were afraid. And Serena had never seen him afraid before. “You’re going to regret this,” Leonard hissed. She stepped back. One step. Two. “Maybe,” she said. “But I finally understand something.” “Oh yeah? What’s that?” She straightened, blood on her chin, hunger in her gaze. “I didn’t survive you.” “I outgrew you.” Leonard lunged. Serena moved. She slammed the lamp into his face and ran. The hallway lights blurred as she flew down the stairs, ribs screaming, feet barely touching carpet. She didn’t grab clothes. She didn’t grab shoes. She didn’t grab proof. She grabbed power. The front door flew open and she disappeared into the dark. She ran for four blocks. Then ten. When she finally stopped, she collapsed behind an abandoned café and pulled the phone from her pocket with shaking hands. One tap. A code. The screen lit. Her real world woke up. Rows of offshore accounts loaded. Names she didn’t exist under. Money she had broken into silence itself to steal. Coins from countries she’d never been to. Numbers from banks she didn’t legally exist in. Serena laughed. It cracked her mouth open again. Blood slid down her chin, but she didn’t care. “Let’s see who owns who now.” She wired herself her first million in under ten seconds. Then she burned her legal identity in thirty. By sunrise, Serena Vale would no longer exist. Leonard Blackwood would begin looking for a ghost. And the world would quietly begin learning. She wasn’t soft. She was evolving.