Chapter 2

The private investigator finally lowered his camera. Two of Judith's massive bodyguards stepped forward, grabbing Estrella by the arms and hauling her off the bed.

They threw a heavy trench coat over her shoulders, ignoring her wincing as they dragged her out of the hotel room.

She was shoved into the backseat of a black Cadillac SUV. The doors locked with a heavy click.

The ride to Long Island was suffocatingly silent. Hebert sat in the passenger seat, staring straight ahead. He didn't look back at her once.

When the SUV pulled up to the sprawling Zimmerman estate, the bodyguards dragged her out. They marched her up the grand staircase and shoved her into the guest bedroom at the end of the second-floor hallway.

The heavy door slammed shut. The lock clicked from the outside.

Estrella slid down the solid wood door until she hit the floor. Her body shook violently. The residual drugs and the adrenaline crash made her teeth chatter.

She crawled to the en-suite bathroom and turned on the faucet. She splashed freezing water onto her face, gasping for air.

She looked up at the mirror. Her skin was ghost-pale. Her left cheek was swollen and purple. And there, blooming across her collarbone, were dark, angry bruises. Love bites from a stranger.

Her stomach violently contracted. She dropped to her knees in front of the toilet and dry-heaved until her throat burned, but nothing came up.

Hours passed. Night fell over the estate. Her throat felt like sandpaper. The extreme thirst finally forced her to stand.

She walked to the bedroom door and rattled the handle. It was locked, but she remembered this was the oldest wing of the house. The wood around the doorframe was warped, and the latch had always been notoriously loose. She leaned her entire body weight against the solid wood, pressing her shoulder near the handle, and gave it three hard, desperate shoves. On the third try, the aged metal mechanism groaned and gave way with a sharp crack.

Estrella pushed the door open. She stepped out into the dark hallway, her bare feet sinking into the thick Persian runner. She made no sound.

She headed toward the stairs to get water from the kitchen. But as she passed the landing, she noticed a sliver of yellow light spilling from the crack beneath Hebert's study door.

She heard his voice. Low, eager, and sickeningly polite.

Estrella pressed her back against the wall and crept closer. She held her breath, pressing her ear near the gap in the doorframe.

"Yes, Mr. Sinclair," Hebert said, the sound of ice clinking against a whiskey glass echoing in the room.

Vincent Sinclair. The senior partner at the Wall Street investment bank where Hebert worked.

"I trust the gift I left in the suite was to your liking?" Hebert asked, letting out a low chuckle.

Estrella's heart stopped beating. Her hands flew up to cover her mouth. Her nails dug so hard into her cheeks that she drew blood.

"Don't worry about her," Hebert continued, his voice dripping with arrogance. "I put a double dose of Rohypnol in her champagne before the driver took her to the hotel. She didn't feel a thing. She won't remember a thing."

The hallway spun. Estrella leaned heavily against the wall to keep from collapsing.

"So, the senior partner nomination," Hebert pressed, his tone shifting to pure greed. "I assume I have your vote at the board meeting this Friday?"

A pause. Then Hebert laughed out loud. "Excellent. A pleasure doing business with you, Vincent."

Hebert hung up the phone. Estrella heard him sigh contentedly, followed by the sound of him pouring another drink.

Five years. She had given him five years of her life. She had raised his son. She had drained her own trust fund to save him from bankruptcy early in their marriage. And he had sold her body to his boss for a promotion.

Estrella took a step back, her chest heaving. Her heel clipped the edge of a heavy bronze vase sitting on a hallway pedestal.

The metal scraped against the wood.

Inside the study, the clinking of ice stopped instantly. Heavy footsteps moved toward the door.

Estrella spun around and sprinted silently down the hall. She slipped into her bedroom and pulled the door shut just as the study door swung open.

She pressed her spine against the wood, holding her breath until her lungs burned. She listened to Hebert's heavy footsteps pause outside her door, linger for a terrifying second, and then walk away.

The fear evaporated, leaving behind something entirely new. A dark, consuming fire ignited in her chest.

She walked to the window and stared out at the manicured lawns of the estate. She wasn't going to just survive this. She was going to burn them all to the ground.