Chapter 3

Late that night I crawled home.

I curled up on the bed, shaking, and opened Vivienne's Instagram.

She'd posted a photo. Her and Adrian on the London Eye. Fireworks outside the glass.

He was looking at her like she was everything.

Caption: So this is what being loved feels like.

Something inside me went very still. I tapped the heart.

The lock turned. Adrian walked in.

He saw the photo on my phone. His face went awkward.

"Claire. I didn't mean to leave you. Vivienne was in a bad place."

I made a small sound of agreement. Then I reached into my bag and pulled out an envelope.

"Sign this."

He exhaled. He probably thought it was some new apartment deed—another thing he could throw at me to smooth things over. The way he always did.

He didn't even look. He took the pen and scrawled his name across the line.

He glanced up. Something about my calm made him uneasy. He started to ask—then his phone rang.

His face changed. He threw the papers down and ran out.

I pressed the tightness in my chest down and picked each sheet up from the floor.

The next morning I started packing.

That's when it hit me. I'd lived here for three years, and there was almost nothing of mine in it.

The carpet was the cream Vivienne liked. The curtains were her lace. Even the landscape print in the living room was one she'd picked up on a whim.

Even the bathroom had her shampoo, her toner, her rituals.

He hadn't treated her like a sister out of love for me.

I was the cuckoo in the nest. The joke.

It didn't matter now.

Grandmother's medication—someone was flying it in from Zurich for me. Clinical-trial grade. Enough to keep her alive without the Blackwoods.

I wouldn't have to stay in this broken marriage any longer.

The door slammed open.

Adrian stood there, shaking with rage.

He didn't even notice the suitcase. He grabbed my wrist. Hard enough to feel bone.

"Claire! You vicious little—"

"To get back at Vivienne, you leaked her nudes? She tried to kill herself last night!"

Pain bloomed at my temple.

"I didn't—"

"You're still lying?"

His face was terrible. He dragged me toward the door.

At the hospital, Vivienne lay pale under the sheets. A bandage around her wrist.

When she saw me, the sobs came harder.

"Claire—why would you do this to me—"

My chest ached.

"Vivienne. Did you actually try to kill yourself?"

"You're really playing the same game—"

A crack. My head snapped to the side. My ear rang.

Adrian stood over me, shaking, his eyes bloodshot.

"Enough! How many times do you need to hurt her!"

"Apologize."

"I didn't do anything. I'm not apologizing."

My voice shook. But I held.

Disappointment flashed through Adrian's eyes. Then something colder. Something like disgust.

He swiped at his screen.

"You won't apologize? Fine. Then let everyone see exactly what kind of woman you were three years ago."

My mind went blank.

Before I could react, the videos—the ones I thought he'd scrubbed off the internet forever—flooded every platform again.

Cold rolled over me. My heart shook.

Three years ago, he'd held me in his arms and whispered:

"Claire, don't be afraid. I had every copy deleted. No one will ever see it again."

Three years later, he used those same files to drag me back to hell.

My phone rang.

The clinic.

"Miss Harrington, your grandmother's experimental drug—when is the next shipment coming? She's critical. We have to dose her now."

"What?"

I stared at Adrian, my eyes burning.

"Adrian. You told me Grandmother's medication was delivered. The clinic says it never arrived!"

My voice shook. Fear climbed my throat.

Adrian took a step toward me, instinctive—but Vivienne spoke first.

"Claire, how can you accuse Adrian like that? He asked me to run the shipment over. I delivered it to Grandmother's room myself. Don't lie about her just to avoid apologizing."

Her voice was pitiful. Her eyes were gleaming with triumph.

Where Adrian couldn't see, she mouthed at me:

The old hag should've died a long time ago.

I snapped.

I didn't think. My hands were around her throat before I knew I was moving.

A force hit me from the side. I slammed into the iron bed frame. Pain shot up my wrist. My eyes stung with tears.

Adrian's eyes were red. His jaw was clenched.

"Claire. You've lost it."

"Attacking Vivienne right in front of me. Lying about your grandmother. I see now—you won't learn unless I teach you."

He dragged me out. Out of the clinic. Into the car. And down to the cellar under Blackwood Manor.

I pressed myself into the corner, terror rising.

"Adrian. What are you doing?"

He stood on the other side of the iron door. His voice was stripped of everything warm.

"Claire. The Blackwood name needs a suitable wife. Stay down here and learn. When you've learned, you come out."

The door locked.

In the dark, dirty hands closed around my legs.

A scream ripped out of me.

Outside the door, Adrian and Tanya were laughing.

My scream made his feet pause for a second. Then he scoffed.

"She's fine. There's no one in there. She's putting on a show."

But I wasn't putting on anything. Several naked men were grinning down at me, pinning me to the concrete, driving into my body again and again.

Inside the door I sobbed until my fingernails tore on the floor.

Outside the door Vivienne cooed at him.

"Adrian. Ignore her. Let's go. You promised me a trip before the wedding."

His voice softened instantly.

"Anything. Whatever you want."

The footsteps faded.

Something inside me finally went out.