Mile

, more real than the throbbing of my battered body. He was gone, and with him, the last vestiges of my naive belief in Dayton's innocence. There was nothing l

soul. I began to methodically search the confines of my small prison, not for escape, but for anything that could be repurposed. An old, forgotten service unifo

s, her face usually a tapestry of fear and subservience. "Mr. Reed... he's asking for you. He wants you

, but kindness in this house was a dangerous commod

e. Cassidy wouldn't miss an opportunity to gloat, to twist the knife. But a flicker of something in Maria's eyes, a genuine p

opulent, darkly paneled, reeking of old money and power. Dayton stood by the massive fireplace, his back to us, his po

ou." She gestured to the coffee table. A single sheet of paper lay there, stark wh

oice flat, devoid of e

ow what it is, Brynn. It's time to make things official.

d the bottom. Dayton's signature, bold and decisive, already filled the line. A cold dread seeped into my bones

arely a whisper. The question was rhet

missive. "It's long overdue. Now s

to consume me. "No," I said, my voice gaining strength. "No. I won't sign i

? You're a liability, an embarrassment. He has a family now. A real family." She stood, her demean

y face," I insisted, crossing my arms, a defiance I

ou pathetic whore!" Her hand shot out, a stinging slap across my face. The forc

ge of fury, hot and unbridled, coursed through me. I lunged at her, not caring about the conse

s Dayton, his face a thundercloud. He shoved me hard, sending me sprawling towards the large, ornate

g, anything to break my fall. My fingers scraped against the cold glass, then found purchase on the heavy velvet dra

e fabric

exploded through my body as I hit the unforgiving stone. My head cracked against the ground, a sharp, sickening sound. Darkness ni

hrough my lower abdomen. I gasped, a ragged, strangled sound, as a wave of crimson spread beneath

sy but urgent. I tried to speak, to scream, but only a soft moan escaped my lips. Through the haze of pain, I saw Dayton. He was r

ding, dying, forgotten on the cold stones of his courtyard. The irony was a bitter taste in my mouth. He believed her. He always believe

pain, every inch screaming in protest. A thick bandage swathed my head, and my left arm was in a sling.

saccharine sweet, but her eyes, filled with a chilling triumph, held no pretense. "Awake already, Brynn?" she chirped, pulling

nothing. My throat was raw

, patting her flat stomach with a self-satisfied smirk. "But you, d

me. But I couldn't speak, couldn't accuse.

. But he's a strong man. He'll get through it. Especially with me by his side." She leaned in, her voice dropping to a lo

ith a bowl of soup. "Time for your di

ught you something special. Your favorite, I believe? Shrimp bisque." She

gic to shrimp. It had been one of the first things Dayton learne

away with my good hand. "No, thank

se, you need your strength. Dayton wants you to

, his voice cold. "Eat your soup. You need to get well." H

earching for any flicker of recognition, any memory

estly, your theatrics are exhausting. You're trying to manipulate me again, aren't you?" He

about me, who had rushed me to the ER when I accidentally ingested a tiny piece of shrimp, now stood before me, prepared