Chapter 2

For five years, I lived in that cold, sprawling estate.

Ethan was true to his word. I was a prisoner, surrounded by luxury but starved of kindness.

He paraded me at necessary social functions, a beautiful, silent wife on his arm, a testament to his power.

At home, he subjected me to a relentless barrage of psychological torment.

Sometimes he ignored me for weeks, making me feel invisible.

Other times, he' d unleash cruel words, reminding me of my father' s alleged sins, of my family' s disgrace.

He controlled every aspect of my life, from who I could speak to (no one from my past) to what I read.

The staff, loyal to him, treated me with thinly veiled contempt.

My only lifeline was a promise I' d made to my mother on her deathbed.

She had passed away six months after my father, her heart broken by grief and the ongoing persecution Ethan subtly orchestrated, even after our marriage.

"Ava," she' d whispered, her hand frail in mine, "promise me you'll try. Try to find a reason to live, for five years. Just five years. After that, you are free to choose."

That five-year pact became my mantra, the invisible thread holding me together.

I counted the days, the weeks, the months.

Two years into this nightmare, Isabelle Vance appeared.

She was younger, a striking socialite with ambition burning in her eyes. Ethan made no secret of their affair.

Isabelle moved into the estate, not officially, but she was always there, a constant, venomous presence.

She delighted in undermining me, her words like little barbs, always delivered with a sweet smile when Ethan was near, turning into open scorn when he wasn't.

She saw me as an obstacle to becoming the official Mrs. Blackwood.

Then, a flicker of something unexpected happened. Four years into my sentence, I discovered I was pregnant.

A child. Ethan' s child.

A part of me, long dormant, stirred with a desperate, fragile hope. Maybe a child could change him, could bridge the chasm of hate.

When I told Ethan, his reaction was unreadable. A flicker of something-surprise? Shock?-crossed his face before it settled back into its usual cold mask.

"A Blackwood heir," he said, his voice devoid of warmth. "We shall see."

Isabelle, however, was furious. Her jealousy was palpable.

She began a campaign of subtle sabotage. Small "accidents," items disappearing, rumors spread among the staff about my "instability."

She' d feign illness when Ethan was due to spend any time with me, ensuring his attention remained on her.

I tried to ignore her, focusing on the tiny life growing inside me. This child was my secret reason to endure, beyond even my mother' s pact.