Chapter 2

I turned to leave, the stares of Mark's colleagues burning my back.

"Sarah, wait," one of Mark's friends, a sycophant named Todd, called out, trying to play peacemaker. "Mark's just had a bit too much to drink."

Jessica, meanwhile, adopted an expression of wide-eyed innocence. "Oh, Sarah, I'm so sorry if this is upsetting. I had no idea..."

Mark's voice cut through, sharp and menacing. "Where do you think you're going, Sarah? You have nowhere else to go, remember?"

His words were a cold reminder of my reality, of the cohabitation agreement, essentially an iron-clad prenup, he'd had me sign years ago, an agreement designed to leave me with nothing if I ever left him without his consent. My parents were gone, Alex, my childhood best friend, was a world away in Silicon Valley, and Mark had systematically alienated everyone else.

The fragile defiance I'd felt moments ago wavered. He was right. I was trapped.

But then the image of him kissing Jessica, his cruel words about my lost pregnancies, his casual dismissal of my pain, flashed through my mind. Something inside me snapped.

I turned back to face him, my voice trembling but clear. "I'm leaving, Mark."

His face contorted with rage. He lunged forward, grabbing my arm.

"You're not going anywhere," he snarled, his public charm vanishing to reveal the monster beneath. He ripped the delicate gold necklace he'd given me years ago from my neck, the clasp scratching my skin, drawing a thin line of blood.

"This? You think this means anything?" he spat, letting it fall to the floor. He then grabbed the fabric of my simple dress, a dress I'd chosen carefully to look presentable, and tore it at the shoulder.

"Used goods," he hissed, his voice low and venomous. He grabbed a nearby bottle of champagne and doused me with it, the cold liquid soaking through my torn dress, chilling me to the bone. His friends let out a few lewd catcalls and snickers.

He then took off his designer coat, the one I'd saved up to buy him for his birthday last year, and draped it over Jessica's shoulders. "There, my dear. Don't want you catching a chill."

He turned back to me, his eyes blazing. "Remember that agreement, Sarah? You can't leave unless I say so. Be back at the penthouse by midnight. And then, maybe, just maybe, I'll *consider* letting you go."

His friends laughed, one of them calling out, "Yeah, Mark, she knows her place."