Chapter 6

Cora woke up the next afternoon. Her head throbbed with a vicious migraine, and her muscles felt like they had been beaten with a hammer.

She shot up in bed, her hands flying to her waist. She ran her fingers frantically over her skin. No bandages. No surgical scars. She let out a ragged breath and collapsed back onto the pillows.

The memory of Kendrick staring at her veins, and Cayden's warning about the pharmacy, crashed into her mind. She shivered violently.

She couldn't stay here. She couldn't be a bird in a cage waiting to be slaughtered. She needed an excuse to leave the estate, to interact with the outside world.

Cora crawled out of bed and went to her closet. She dug past the rows of designer clothes to a battered old suitcase she had brought from Ohio. Hidden inside the lining was her old, cracked cell phone.

She waited until she heard the guards changing shifts outside her door. She slipped into the bathroom, turned the sink faucet on full blast to mask the sound, and powered on the phone.

She dialed the number for Emma, the owner of a small independent art gallery in the city where Cora used to work.

"Emma, please," Cora whispered rapidly into the receiver. "I need a job. Anything. Filing papers, cleaning the back room. I just need to work."

Emma, who had always loved Cora's eye for art, didn't hesitate. "Of course, Cora. You can start tomorrow."

Cora hung up the phone. A tiny spark of hope ignited in her chest. She powered off the device and shoved it back into the suitcase lining.

She changed into a simple sweater and jeans and walked out of the bedroom. She found the butler carrying a lunch tray up the stairs.

Cora squared her shoulders. "Tell Kendrick I got a job at an art gallery. I start tomorrow."

The butler's face went completely blank. He set the tray down on a side table, pulled a walkie-talkie from his belt, and walked to the corner of the hallway, whispering rapidly into it.

Five minutes later, the house landline rang. The butler picked it up, listened, and then handed the receiver to Cora. His eyes were filled with pity.

"Cora," Kendrick's voice came through the speaker, smooth and absolute. "You don't need to work. I provide everything you could ever want."

"I need to get out of this house, Kendrick," Cora said, her voice shaking but firm. "I need to do something with my life, or I'm going to lose my mind."

There was a long, terrifying silence on the other end. Then, Kendrick chuckled softly. "Alright, sweetheart. If it makes you happy, you can go."

Cora stared at the phone in shock. She slowly hung up the receiver. She had won. It felt too easy, but the relief washed over her anyway.

At two o'clock in the afternoon, her old phone buzzed in the closet. It was a voicemail from Emma.

Cora pressed the phone to her ear. Emma's voice was hysterical, choked with sobs.

"Cora, I'm so sorry! The IRS just raided the gallery. They're seizing everything. They said there was an anonymous tip about tax fraud. Please, don't ever call me again. I can't afford this kind of trouble!"

The phone slipped from Cora's hand, hitting the carpet with a dull thud.

The IRS. Kendrick had destroyed Emma's entire life in less than two hours just to keep Cora locked inside the house.

Pure, blinding rage eclipsed her fear. Cora bolted out of the bedroom, ran down the grand staircase, and sprinted out the front doors toward the driveway.

"Get the car!" she screamed at the driver. "Take me to the gallery now!"

Two massive security guards stepped in front of the car, crossing their arms. They looked at her like she was a ghost.

Cora slammed her fists against the guard's chest, trying to push past him. The guard didn't even flinch. He reached out with one hand and shoved her hard by the shoulder, pinning her in place.

The heavy iron gates of the estate swung open. Kendrick's black sedan rolled up the driveway and stopped right next to her.

Kendrick stepped out of the car. He waved the guards away. He walked up to Cora, his face perfectly calm. He reached out and gently tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against her earlobe. "The world out there is too dangerous for you, Cora. It's dirty. People get hurt."

He pulled back and looked into her eyes. "You belong here. You are my perfect wife. And you are never leaving this estate."

Cora stared at his handsome, twisted face. Her legs gave out, and she sank to her knees on the gravel, completely crushed under the weight of his absolute control.