Chapter 3
My mom's head shot up, and her eyes turned bright red in an instant.
Her gaze was sharp and strained, and tears threatened to spill down her cheeks at any second.
She pressed her bony fingertips hard into her palms until her skin split and fresh blood welled up.
She seemed on the edge of losing control as she stared straight at Edward and spoke in a hoarse, trembling voice, "My Olivia is not a bad person. She had her reasons for everything."
Edward's mocking smile froze on his face.
He clearly hadn't expected her reaction, and he didn't understand why she was so upset.
His gaze locked onto my mom's face. "Reasons?"
My heart lurched into my throat.
I was terrified my mom would let something slip, even though she'd promised me she would keep everything to herself before I died.
My mom's shoulders shook, but she finally managed to pull herself together.
She didn't say anything more.
Edward stared at her for a long moment, waiting in vain for a response.
He swallowed hard and looked away.
His voice drifted through the night air, his tone unreadable. "I can help you, but I have conditions.
"Once the body is restored, Olivia has to come pick it up herself.
"And she can explain those supposed reasons to me face to face."
He drew out the word "reasons" slowly and deliberately. His tone was laced with bitter hatred, as if he wanted to grind the word apart completely.
My mom promised to bring my body over shortly after, then turned and walked away with slow, struggling steps.
Behind her, Edward's voice rang out, thick with hatred. "Oh, and one more thing. Tell her to keep her head down when she comes. She needs to apologize to me and Lily."
My mom's pale lips shook uncontrollably.
Tears mixed with blood streaked down her cheeks, smudging her face.
She didn't look back. She just kept whispering quietly to herself, "My Olivia is not a bad person."
Edward watched as my mom's figure slowly faded into the night.
The darkness blurred his face.
He stood there for a long time.
Nobody knew what he was thinking right then.
*****
I met Edward when he was seventeen.
I was twenty then, in my third year of college and interning at a local law firm.
His high school was across the street from my campus. One day, my roommate and I headed over there and saw his father hitting him outside the school gate.
His father was dressed in a formal suit and stood beside a young woman. He spoke in a harsh, commanding tone as he ordered, "This is your stepmother, Edward. Call her mom."
Edward let out a cold, mocking scoff.
His father's face turned dark at once, and he slapped Edward hard across the face several times.
With everyone watching, he shouted, "I'm your father. I've raised you all these years. You will call her Mom if I say so."
I stared in complete shock at the scene unfolding before me.
Edward had delicate skin, and the brutal slaps left half his face swollen and bright red.
He turned calmly to walk back into the school, but his furious father refused to let him go and kicked him hard behind the knees.
Edward stumbled and nearly fell to his knees.
I pulled out my phone to record what was happening and stepped forward, holding my phone right in his father's face.
"Talk to him properly. Don't hit him. Don't you know domestic violence is against the law?" I snapped.
Edward's dad glared at me, his face full of anger and annoyance. "I'm his father!"
I shot back, fuming, "Being his father doesn't give you the right to hurt him. No one gets to abuse their family."
Edward turned around.
Edward turned to look at me. His expression stayed perfectly calm, and his eyes were unreadable, hiding every emotion he felt.
I used the video I'd recorded to help Edward fight his case.
Public opinion and legal rules were on our side, and Edward ended up winning the lawsuit.
The court ordered his father to pay child support and allowed Edward to move out of his family's house to live on his own.
I was ready to head home after the court session, but Edward followed closely behind me.
He said he had nowhere to go.
I pointed at the court order in his hand. "You can rent a place now. The court made your dad pay you child support."
Edward looked at me, his expression still calm. "The money hasn't come through yet."
I didn't know what to say.
He stayed quiet too, staring at me.
*****
I let Edward crash on the couch in my tiny 550-square-foot apartment.
As time went on, he became my boyfriend, and eventually my husband.
He turned down a job at his family's company and followed my advice to do what he loved, becoming a doctor.
That year, I was fresh out of college and still naive about how things worked in the real world.
I'd been too bold and outspoken during the lawsuit, which rubbed the opposing party the wrong way and got me targeted for payback.
The man cornered me outside my apartment complex. He used his drunken state as an excuse to slap me and shouted all kinds of insults at me in front of other people.
Later, he claimed he'd been too intoxicated to know what he was doing.
When the police arrived, he tossed out a lazy, insincere apology and got off scot-free.
The next day, Edward pulled the man into an alley and beat him so badly that the man ended up with severe bodily disability.
I rushed to the scene absolutely frantic, only to find Edward talking calmly to the police. "He pulled a knife on me and forced me into the alley. I was in real danger, so I defended myself."
There were no security cameras in the alley, so only Edward and the man knew the full truth.
But I knew Edward better than anyone.
The second our eyes met, he looked away right away, and I knew he was lying.
The court ruled that Edward had used too much force while defending himself. He was convicted and sentenced to six months in jail.
When he was released, he spoke to me in a soft tone, "It's only six months of my life, but that man will live with those injuries forever."
Tears of anger filled my eyes, and I slapped him hard across the face.
He hung his head without saying anything.
I refused to let him inside that night, so he sat outside my door the entire time until morning.
When I opened the door at dawn, he was standing there holding breakfast for me.