Chapter 1: She Decides
“Mr. Blackwood, there's something about my wife you need to know.””
The words came from Brandon in a voice I knew too well.
Soft.
Careful.
Dangerous.
Under the massive walnut desk, I pressed both hands over my mouth and tried not to breathe.
Damien Blackwood sat above me, perfectly still.
I could see only his polished black shoes and the edge of his black trousers. Beyond him stood the two men in tailored suits. Neither moved.
Brandon did.
I heard his footsteps circle the desk.
“My wife has a condition,” he continued.
“She panics. Sometimes she imagines things.””
My fingernails dug into my palms.
There it was.
The story Brandon always told.
I was emotional.
I was unstable.
I misunderstood.
I exaggerated.
And somehow, after three years of marriage, everyone believed him.
Damien's voice cut through the room.
“What condition?””
Brandon hesitated.
I heard the faint scrape of a shoe against the floor.
“Anxiety.””
“That's not a condition that gives you ownership of another adult.””
The room went silent.
My heart stumbled.
Brandon gave a short laugh.
“I didn't say I owned her.””
“You said she's coming home with you.””
“She is my wife.””
“That wasn't my question.””
Brandon's voice tightened.
“Look, Mr. Blackwood, I appreciate your concern, but this is a private family matter.””
Damien finally moved.
His shoes turned toward Brandon.
“You entered my private office.””
“I apologized.””
“You lied to me.””
“I didn't—”
“You said your wife was hiding somewhere in this building. You didn't mention that she was barefoot, bruised, and terrified.””
Brandon stopped.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
Damien knew.
Somehow, he had known before Brandon ever entered.
Then Brandon said the one thing that made cold fear spread through my chest.
“She gets bruises easily.””
A pause.
Then Damien asked, “From what?””
“She's clumsy.””
I almost laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because it was so absurd that for one second my brain didn't know what else to do.
I wasn't clumsy.
The bruise on my arm had come from Brandon's hand.
The small cut on my ankle had come from the restaurant kitchen door when I ran.
And the red marks around my wrist were shaped exactly like fingers.
Damien knew.
Brandon knew.
And now two strangers knew.
For the first time in years, I wasn't alone with the lie.
Brandon stepped closer.
“Mr. Blackwood, I think we've had enough of this.””
“No,” Damien said.
One word.
Quiet.
Absolute.
“You're leaving.””
Brandon scoffed.
“With my wife.””
Damien didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he looked down.
I couldn't see his face, but somehow I knew he was looking directly at the space beneath the desk.
“Hannah.””
My breath caught.
“You don't have to come out.””
Brandon's voice exploded.
“What did you call her?””
Damien ignored him.
“You can stay where you are.””
My throat tightened.
Nobody had ever said those words to me.
You can stay.
You don't have to.
You decide.
They sounded almost foreign.
Brandon stepped toward the desk.
“I think you need to understand something, Hannah.””
His voice became frighteningly calm.
“If you don't walk out right now, you're making this worse.””
My body instinctively curled tighter.
Damien noticed.
He stood.
The sudden movement made me flinch.
But he didn't reach for me.
He simply faced Brandon.
“Get out.””
Brandon stared at him.
“You can't keep my wife here.””
“I don't intend to.””
“Then move.””
Damien's jaw tightened.
“I said get out.””
One of the suited men opened the office door.
Brandon didn't move.
“Do you know who my father is?””
Damien's expression didn't change.
“Yes.””
That answer seemed to unsettle Brandon more than anything else.
“And?””
“And that's why I'm giving you ten seconds to leave.””
Brandon swallowed.
“You're threatening me?””
“No.””
Damien glanced at his watch.
“I'm warning you.””
Silence.
Then Brandon stepped backward.
“This isn't over.””
Damien smiled faintly.
“No. It isn't.””
Brandon walked out.
The door closed.
I remained beneath the desk.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Damien crouched several feet away from me.
He kept his hands visible.
“Are you hurt?””
I shook my head.
It was the first lie I told him.
He noticed.
“Your wrist?””
I looked down.
The marks had darkened.
“I'll be okay.””
“That's not what I asked.””
I didn't know what to say.
One of the men approached.
“Boss, should I call Dr. Keller?””
“No.””
Damien looked at me.
“Ask her.””
The man nodded and stepped away.
Damien stayed where he was.
“What do you want to do?””
My eyes burned.
“I don't know.””
“That's okay.””
“I can't go home.””
“You won't.””
I stared at him.
“Why?””
“Because you said you can't.””
Something inside me cracked.
A tear rolled down my cheek.
I wiped it away quickly.
“I don't have anywhere else.””
Damien's expression softened by the smallest degree.
“You do now.””
He stood and extended his hand.
Not toward me.
Just near me.
An option.
Nothing more.
I stared at it.
Then, slowly, I took it.
His hand was warm.
Steady.
Mine was shaking so badly that he had to support most of my weight.
When I emerged from beneath the desk, I realized the room was much larger than I'd thought.
And the man standing in front of me looked nothing like the monster people whispered about.
He looked controlled.
Expensive.
Dangerously calm.
His eyes moved briefly to the bruise on my arm.
Then back to my face.
“What is your husband's full name?””
“Brandon Mitchell.””
Damien's expression changed.
Not fear.
Recognition.
“Mitchell.””
“Yes.””
“Interesting.””
I swallowed.
“What?””
Before he could answer, the office door opened again.
One of his men returned.
“Boss.””
Damien turned.
The man handed him a phone.
“There was a problem downstairs.””
Damien looked at the screen.
His face became colder.
“What kind of problem?””
“The Mitchells weren't the only people waiting outside.””
Damien's gaze lifted.
“How many?””
“Six.””
A pause.
“And they're armed.””
My stomach dropped.
Brandon hadn't left.
May you like
He had brought someone.
And they weren't there to talk.
