Chapter 1

The Goodmans never thought much of me. They always acted like I was beneath them.

The day I was kidnapped, the abandoned warehouse was empty, only the wind whistling through the place.

My phone was on speaker.

Lindsay Goodman, the fake heiress, was live-streaming herself unboxing a limited-edition bag, while my newlywed husband, Isaac Goodman, stood right next to her, handing her scissors.

"Isaac, this crocodile one is so hard to open," she said, her voice sickly sweet.

"Let me do it," he replied, his voice dripping with tenderness.

I was tied to a chair, blood all over me, clenching my teeth as I spoke into the phone, "Why... didn't you come to save me first?"

There was a moment of silence on the other end.

Then their mother, Beatrice Goodman, sneered, "Lindsay's a lucky charm. She brings fortune to the family. But you? You're a jinx. Trouble wrapped in skin. If your stars weren't so strong, we'd have thrown you into the sea a long time ago."

Lindsay leaned closer to the phone, her voice soft and syrupy. "You were always meant to be the scapegoat, you know? Why take it to heart? Isaac said, as long as you suffer, all my bad luck goes away."

*****

The line went dead.

I crumpled to the floor and stayed there, motionless, for what felt like forever.

From that day on, I couldn't speak anymore.

But I kept hoping this marriage would somehow get better, even if I was just lying to myself.

I secretly made a small cross and tucked it under Isaac's pillow.

I went to the church and prayed. I asked the priest to bless a small cross for Isaac. I held it in my palms the whole walk home, like it was something sacred.

The next day, Lindsay posted on her social media.

The photo showed the cross. It was snapped in two and tossed in the trash.

Her caption read: [Some nobody sent me this garbage. Who would even want it? Isaac said just looking at it brings bad luck.]

The comments section was full of people laughing at me.

And Isaac gave it a thumbs-up.

I was in a slump for ages, shutting myself away in my room.

One night, I got thirsty and went downstairs. As I passed the study, the door was slightly ajar.

I heard Lindsay's bright, ringing laughter. She said, "She actually fell for it? She thought the kidnappers were real? That's hilarious. Isaac, next time let's hire someone to pretend to kill her. I want to see her wet herself from fear."

Isaac was flipping through some documents, his tone casual. "Sure. Whatever you want. Just keep her alive. As long as she's still breathing, we're good."

The butler chimed in, "Ms. Goodman, go easy on her. Don't mess her up too badly. We still need her around to keep the bad luck away."

My grip on the divorce papers loosened bit by bit.

So it wasn't just that they didn't love me.

This was planned. They set it all up from the start. They wanted to torture me.

I turned around and went back to my room. I tore the divorce papers into pieces. Then I flushed them down the toilet. I didn't even think twice.

If they wanted to play games, fine. I'd show them what real payback looked like.

I was going to destroy the Goodman family.

*****

The next morning, I headed downstairs for breakfast.

Lindsay was sitting at the head of the table, and Isaac was peeling an egg for her.

Beatrice spotted me and slapped her fork on the table. "Ugh, seeing your miserable face first thing in the morning ruins my appetite. Get out and eat in the kitchen."

I didn't move. I stood right where I was.

Instead, I strode over to the table, pulled out a chair, and sat down.

Lindsay pinched her nose. She made a big show of it. "Sabrina, what's that awful smell? Gross. Did you forget to shower for days or something?"

Truth was, I'd just showered. My skin still carried the scent of fresh body wash.

Isaac shot me a look full of disgust. "Go clean yourself up. Don't ruin Lindsay's breakfast with your stench."

I stared at him.

I used to think he was drop-dead gorgeous. Now he just made me sick.

I grabbed the glass of milk in front of me and threw it right at Lindsay's face.

One quick motion. I didn't hesitate at all.

Lindsay shrieked.

Milk was running down her hair, and she looked like a wreck.

"Are you crazy?" Isaac shouted.

He jumped to his feet and gave me a rough shove.

I was ready for it. I went with the shove, letting myself fall to the floor as planned. My forehead slammed against the corner of the table, blood trickling down.

But I didn't make a sound. I just gave them a cold, hard stare.

Isaac yelled, "Sabrina, what the hell is wrong with you?"

Lindsay started crying. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She looked pitiful. "Isaac, is Sabrina mad at me because I snapped her cross yesterday? I didn't mean it. It was just so ugly."

Beatrice charged at me, her hand raised to slap me. "You little brat! How dare you bully Lindsay?"

Before she could hit me, I grabbed her wrist.

With a sharp motion, I flung her arm away.

Beatrice staggered back a few steps, almost falling.

The room went dead silent.

In this house, I was always the doormat. I never fought back. Never talked back. I just took it. Every slap. Every insult.

This was the first time I ever fought back.

Isaac's eyes went dark. "Sabrina, who do you think you're fooling? Apologize to Lindsay."

I stood up, pointed at my mouth, and waved my hand.

I couldn't talk, so apologizing wasn't even an option.

Lindsay wiped the milk from her face with a nasty glint in her eyes. "Isaac, do you think Sabrina's lost it? Maybe we should take her out to get some fresh air."

She stressed the words "get some fresh air," making sure everyone caught her meaning.

Isaac glanced at her, instantly getting the hint. A cold smirk curled on his lips. "Sounds good. It's the weekend. Let's take her out on the yacht."