Chapter 8

The accusation hung in the air, thick and nauseating. "You want me to confess to a hit-and-run?" I whispered, utterly aghast. "A crime I didn't commit? Are you insane, Conor?" My voice rose, raw with disbelief. "I'm the victim here! You left me injured and alone while you ran to her side, and now you want me to take the fall for her criminal negligence?"

Conor' s breathing was heavy, ragged. His face was pale, his eyes hollow with stress. He looked like a man on the verge of collapse, but not for me. For Hillery.

"Jacey, please," he pleaded, reaching out a trembling hand. "You don't understand the gravity of this situation. Hillery... she can't go to jail. It would destroy her. It would destroy everything." He tried to pull me into his arms, a ghost of his old, comforting embrace.

But this comfort was a cage. I pushed him away, my hands flat against his chest. He staggered back, but his grip on my arm was surprisingly strong, unyielding. He held me captive, his eyes burning into mine.

"You will confess, Jacey," he said, his voice low, guttural, a raw command. "You will tell them you were driving. You were distraught. It was an accident. They'll be lenient with you. You're my wife."

Rage, pure and undiluted, exploded inside me. I lashed out, my fist connecting with his chest, a desperate, futile attempt to break free. "I won't! I won't lie for her! I won't go to jail for her! You can't make me!"

He grunted, absorbing the blow, but his grip didn't loosen. His eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint replacing the desperation. "You will, Jacey. You owe me this."

"Owe you?" I screamed, tears of fury streaming down my face. "I owe you nothing! You owe me! You owe Alina! You owe me the dignity of a real marriage, not this cruel deception!" My voice was raw, ragged.

"Don't be foolish," he snarled, his patience finally snapping. "Don't you understand? If you refuse, I will make your life a living hell. I will take everything from you. Your family, your career, your reputation. Everything."

"Then do it!" I shrieked, my voice breaking. "Take it all! If that's what it takes to be free of you, then do your worst! But I will not lie!" I was shaking, trembling with a mixture of fear and pure, unadulterated defiance. My claustrophobia, triggered by his suffocating grip, was rising like a tide.

Conor paused, his eyes searching mine. A flicker of something, surprise perhaps, or a dawning realization that I meant every word. He hesitated, his grip loosening slightly. He saw the desperation in my eyes, the cold, resolute fury.

"Jacey," he said, his voice softening, a manipulative coaxing tone creeping in. "Don't be dramatic. You wouldn't throw your life away like this. You have too much to live for. You love me, Jacey. You always have." He squeezed my hand gently, a false tenderness in his touch. "You wouldn't want to hurt me, would you?"

The words were a brutal reminder of his power, a sick twist of the knife. He was using my supposed love, my loyalty, against me. He believed I was so utterly dependent on him, so hopelessly devoted, that I would sacrifice myself to keep him safe, to keep Hillery safe.

A chilling calm settled over me. He was right. I did want to live. But not for him. Not for Hillery. Not for the hollow shell of a life he offered. I wanted to live to expose him. To reclaim Alina's name. To find my own voice again.

I looked at him, my eyes empty of tears, empty of emotion. "You're right, Conor," I said, my voice smooth, unnervingly calm. "I have a strong will to live. Stronger than you can imagine."

His face relaxed, a subtle triumph in his eyes. He must have thought he' d broken me. He must have thought I was finally yielding. He loosened his grip entirely, a triumphant smirk playing on his lips. "Good. I knew you'd see reason."

In that instant, with a surge of adrenaline, I shoved him with all my might. He staggered back, caught off guard, his expression morphing from triumph to shock.

"I will never confess, Conor!" I snarled, my voice a venomous whisper. "And you will never make me!"

His face contorted with a mixture of rage and disbelief. "Jacey! You ungrateful little-"

"I am not your puppet!" I cut him off, my chest heaving. "And I am not your shield! You chose her! You always choose her! Now face the consequences of your choices yourself!"

His anger flared, hot and dangerous. "Fine! If you won't cooperate, you'll regret it!" He pointed a trembling finger at me. "Get her out of my sight! Lock her up! She's clearly lost her mind!" He turned on his heel, stomping out of the room, leaving me alone with his furious command echoing in the air.