Chapter 1
When my daughter Abigail turned five, our dance instructor quit out of the blue.
On her last day, the girl—pretty, bright, and all smiles—took my hand and thanked me for "taking care of her all these years".
But I knew the truth. I wasn't the one she was thanking.
It was my husband, Edward Collins.
From the moment they first met, Edward had been involved with her.
I thought I could pretend not to notice, that life would somehow keep going the way it always had.
I was wrong. Everything fell apart the day she found out she was pregnant.
And Edward sat me down and told me he wanted a divorce.
*****
When Chloe Austin stepped out of the front door, Edward's car was already parked outside the villa.
He leaned against the open door, and when he lifted his eyes to look at me through a thin trail of smoke, his expression was as cold as ever.
I pulled my hand back from Chloe's grasp and met his stare without flinching.
My voice stayed polite and distant, almost flat. "Ms. Austin, you should get going. He's waiting for you."
Chloe didn't find the reaction she wanted on my face.
She bit her lip, frustrated, then walked toward Edward.
Their car pulled away, leaving me standing there, frozen for a long moment.
"Mom, why did Dad leave with Ms. Austin?" Abigail's small, innocent voice came from behind me.
I blinked myself back to reality, picked her up, and forced a gentle smile. "It's hard to get a taxi out here. Daddy's giving Ms. Austin a ride."
Later that night, after I put Abigail to bed, Edward still hadn't come home.
I already knew what that meant.
He wasn't coming home tonight.
And then came the confirmation.
Chloe put up an Instagram post, and Edward was in the shot.
His long fingers were laced tightly with hers, a quiet declaration of the happiness they shared.
Just like that first night between them.
Chloe had been nervous then, but underneath it all, she'd been thrilled.
She pretended it was an accidental post this time too.
The caption read: [The first time, belonging to Mr. Collins.]
No one knew that behind the calm mask I wore that night, something inside me split wide open.
It bled. But it also let a little light through.
The darkness has a way of drawing out the deepest ache inside a person.
I had already given birth to Edward's daughter.
I had already accepted that he and I would be tied together for the rest of our lives.
But that girl—Chloe—was pregnant.
Edward was serious about her.
And it made me think that maybe I finally had a chance to walk away from him.
In the days that followed, I kept doing what a wife and a mother was supposed to do. I stayed in my lane, stuck to the routine, did everything by the book.
But Edward's eyes grew colder every day, as if he was calculating something behind them.
That night, after I put Abigail to bed, Edward called me into his study.
He was standing by the window. Three or four dead cigarettes lay by his hand.
When he looked at me, his expression was calmer and softer than I had ever seen.
"Molly," he said quietly, "I think it's time I let you go."
My waist trembled in his arm before I could stop myself.
I thought I misheard him.
I asked, "What?"
Edward let out a low chuckle and brushed my messy hair back into place with slow, careful fingers. "You already know, don't you? Chloe is pregnant. And the baby is mine."
My heart was already crashing like a storm, but I kept my head down and stayed completely still.
I didn't dare show even a flicker of happiness.
I remembered those first months after we got married. Back then, I refused to bow to fate.
I ran. I hid.
But every single time, he dragged me back with an army of men in black.
Each time, his eyes went red, almost feral.
He snapped, "Molly, the more you fight me, the more I want you. Going to run again? I can play this game all night."
His hand would close around my neck, cool and controlled. "Why can't you just stay where I can see you? Maybe one day I'll get tired of you. Then you can leave."
Those memories flickered through my mind like an old, broken film reel.
I didn't know if he meant what he said tonight.
But the thought of leaving him cracked through me like a sprout breaking out of the soil.
I couldn't hold the words back. "Do you really mean it? You'll let me go?"
The smile stayed on Edward's lips, but the warmth drained from his eyes.
I had no idea why he was angry.
But that one question was enough for him to shove me down hard against the desk.
For a second, everything blurred. Then I heard it—his voice, low and dark, like a devil breathing against my ear.
His tone was tight, unrelenting. "No. I can't let you go, Molly. I don't know how."