Chapter 2

The moment the divorce papers were in his hands, Grant had the driver dump me on the side of the road so he could rush to the Austin airport to pick up Daphne.

The holiday traffic from Christmas and New Year's was at a dead stop.

I walked for two solid hours before I finally made it back to the West Lake Hills estate.

I had barely sat down—before I could even take a sip of water—when Linda, the head housekeeper, snatched the glass right out of my hand.

"Mara! Who told you to sit around drinking water?"

"Mr. Mercer's orders. Everything in the master bedroom gets moved to basement storage today. Ms. Ashford's luggage goes into the guest room with the best lighting."

She marched me down to the third level of the basement.

I had lived in this sprawling, luxurious estate for three years, and I never even knew there was a damp, windowless storage unit buried beneath it.

"I packed up all your things from the master bedroom."

Linda blocked the only sliver of light coming from the doorway and casually tossed a bag down the stairs.

Crack.

The sound of shattering glass echoed the second it hit the concrete.

A sickening dread crawled up my spine.

Ignoring the shards, I dropped to my knees and ripped the bag open.

Inside was a shattered ornament.

It was the only thing my mother had left me.

The broken glass sliced into my hands, blood welling up instantly, but I couldn't feel the pain.

Linda took a massive step back, intimidated by the sheer hatred radiating from my eyes. "Mr. Mercer told me to do it," she muttered defensively.

I forced myself to breathe. To stay calm.

"Linda, when he caught you taking kickbacks, I saved your job."

"When your grandson needed surgery and you couldn't afford it, I paid for it."

Linda guiltily averted her eyes.

That night, when Grant returned and heard what happened, he flew into a rage and fired Linda on the spot.

For a split second, a phantom warmth flickered in my hardened heart.

Maybe some shred of our past affection hadn't completely died.

But in the very next breath, Grant shattered my naive illusion.

"Mara, Daphne is coming to the estate tomorrow."

"Do exactly what you're supposed to do. You mess this up, you know the consequences."

I nodded.

He added, "Oh, right. Daphne loves spicy Mexican dishes."

"Make two tonight. I need to taste them to make sure they're up to her standards."

The cuts on my hands flared in agony as the capsaicin seeped into the open wounds.

The water in the kitchen sink slowly turned a murky red.

Grant walked in, caught sight of the bloody water, and frowned in disgust.

"Watch it. Don't ruin the food. Those jalape?os were flown in straight from Mexico."

When he proposed, he swore he would never let me set foot in a kitchen.

He swore he would never let me get hurt.

I couldn't hold it in anymore. Tears slipped down my cheeks, splashing into the red water and sending ripples across the surface.

Grant pinched the bridge of his nose and let out an exasperated sigh.

"Enough. Stop crying."

"If Daphne sees you like this tomorrow, she's going to think I abuse my staff."

I wiped my face, pulled my pale, waterlogged hands out of the sink, and retreated to the basement storage room.

Before I fell asleep, I clutched the shattered pieces of my mother's relic to my chest and made a wish.

"Mom, I can survive this."

"Once Daphne leaves, I can finally get away from this monster."

Chapter 2

The moment the divorce papers were in his hands, Grant had the driver dump me on the side of the road so he could rush to the Austin airport to pick up Daphne.

The holiday traffic from Christmas and New Year's was at a dead stop.

I walked for two solid hours before I finally made it back to the West Lake Hills estate.

I had barely sat down—before I could even take a sip of water—when Linda, the head housekeeper, snatched the glass right out of my hand.

"Mara! Who told you to sit around drinking water?"

"Mr. Mercer's orders. Everything in the master bedroom gets moved to basement storage today. Ms. Ashford's luggage goes into the guest room with the best lighting."

She marched me down to the third level of the basement.

I had lived in this sprawling, luxurious estate for three years, and I never even knew there was a damp, windowless storage unit buried beneath it.

"I packed up all your things from the master bedroom."

Linda blocked the only sliver of light coming from the doorway and casually tossed a bag down the stairs.

Crack.

The sound of shattering glass echoed the second it hit the concrete.

A sickening dread crawled up my spine.

Ignoring the shards, I dropped to my knees and ripped the bag open.

Inside was a shattered ornament.

It was the only thing my mother had left me.

The broken glass sliced into my hands, blood welling up instantly, but I couldn't feel the pain.

Linda took a massive step back, intimidated by the sheer hatred radiating from my eyes. "Mr. Mercer told me to do it," she muttered defensively.

I forced myself to breathe. To stay calm.

"Linda, when he caught you taking kickbacks, I saved your job."

"When your grandson needed surgery and you couldn't afford it, I paid for it."

Linda guiltily averted her eyes.

That night, when Grant returned and heard what happened, he flew into a rage and fired Linda on the spot.

For a split second, a phantom warmth flickered in my hardened heart.

Maybe some shred of our past affection hadn't completely died.

But in the very next breath, Grant shattered my naive illusion.

"Mara, Daphne is coming to the estate tomorrow."

"Do exactly what you're supposed to do. You mess this up, you know the consequences."

I nodded.

He added, "Oh, right. Daphne loves spicy Mexican dishes."

"Make two tonight. I need to taste them to make sure they're up to her standards."

The cuts on my hands flared in agony as the capsaicin seeped into the open wounds.

The water in the kitchen sink slowly turned a murky red.

Grant walked in, caught sight of the bloody water, and frowned in disgust.

"Watch it. Don't ruin the food. Those jalape?os were flown in straight from Mexico."

When he proposed, he swore he would never let me set foot in a kitchen.

He swore he would never let me get hurt.

I couldn't hold it in anymore. Tears slipped down my cheeks, splashing into the red water and sending ripples across the surface.

Grant pinched the bridge of his nose and let out an exasperated sigh.

"Enough. Stop crying."

"If Daphne sees you like this tomorrow, she's going to think I abuse my staff."

I wiped my face, pulled my pale, waterlogged hands out of the sink, and retreated to the basement storage room.

Before I fell asleep, I clutched the shattered pieces of my mother's relic to my chest and made a wish.

"Mom, I can survive this."

"Once Daphne leaves, I can finally get away from this monster."