Chapter 3

Marcus drove me to a high-end boutique in the city.

"Mr. Hayes asked you to meet him here."

My stomach twisted. This felt like a setup.

The store was all glass and chrome, filled with expensive clothes.

Ethan was there, lounging on a plush velvet chair.

Isabelle Moreau was beside him, preening.

She looked like a younger, sharper version of me. Or how I used to be.

The resemblance was unsettling.

"Ah, Sarah. You're late," Ethan said, his voice bored.

He gestured to a pair of ridiculously high-heeled shoes on a display.

"Isabelle likes those. But she' s not sure if they' re comfortable enough for the gala tonight."

He looked at me, a cruel smile playing on his lips.

"Why don't you try them on for her? Walk around a bit. Break them in."

Humiliation washed over me. He wanted me to be her servant.

In public.

Isabelle smirked, enjoying this.

I remembered a fight we had, years ago, before the diagnosis, before the money.

I' d joked about wanting expensive things, trying to sound sophisticated.

He' d taken it seriously, looked worried he couldn' t provide for me.

Now, he was using that manufactured memory against me.

I kept my face smooth, indifferent.

"Of course. If Ms. Moreau wishes."

I picked up the shoes. They were beautiful, and probably cost more than my first car.

As I slipped them on, I noticed Isabelle more closely.

The way she tilted her head. The curve of her smile.

It was like looking at a ghost of myself.

A ghost Ethan was trying to recreate, or perhaps, punish.

He wanted to show me what he could give another woman.

The woman he thought I should have been, or the woman he wanted to hurt me with.

I walked around the small display area, the heels awkward and painful.

Ethan watched me, his eyes cold.

When I returned, he pulled out a thick wad of cash from his pocket.

He peeled off several large bills and threw them at my feet.

"For your trouble," he said, his voice dripping with contempt.

The money scattered on the polished floor.

Some of the sales assistants gasped quietly.

I bent down slowly, my back protesting, and picked up each bill.

"Thank you, Ethan. You' re always so generous."

My voice was steady. Inside, I was crumbling.

Ethan was called away for a moment, a hushed, urgent phone call.

Isabelle seized the opportunity.

"You know, he talks about you," she said, her voice a venomous whisper.

"He says you were a gold digger. That you only ever cared about his money."

She smiled, a predatory glint in her eyes.

"It's pathetic, really. Clinging on like this."

I said nothing. Let her think what she wanted.

Suddenly, she stumbled, crying out.

She' d "tripped" over my foot, which was nowhere near her.

She fell dramatically into a rack of expensive dresses.

"Oh my god! She pushed me!" Isabelle shrieked, clutching her ankle.

Ethan rushed back, his face thunderous.

"What happened?"

"She pushed me, Ethan!" Isabelle wailed, tears welling in her eyes. "My ankle! I think it's broken!"

Ethan didn' t even look at me. He knelt beside Isabelle, all concern.

"Apologize to her, Sarah. Now." His voice was ice.

"I didn't touch her," I said quietly.

"Don't lie to me! Apologize!"

He was so quick to believe her. So quick to condemn me.

I stood my ground. "No."

His eyes narrowed. "You want to be difficult? Fine."

He glanced towards the entrance of the store.

"Marcus is outside with Leo in the car. Perhaps Leo needs a new home. A very distant one. Or perhaps, no home at all."

Fear, cold and absolute, gripped me.

Not Leo. He wouldn't.

But the look in his eyes said he would. He would do anything to break me.

"Alright," I whispered. "I'm sorry, Ms. Moreau. I hope your ankle feels better."

"That's not good enough," Ethan said, his voice soft, dangerous.

"Kneel. And kowtow. Like the pathetic creature you are."

Isabelle watched, a triumphant smirk on her face.

The sales staff averted their eyes, embarrassed.

My dignity was a small price to pay for Leo' s safety.

I knelt slowly. The floor was cold beneath my knees.

As I bent my head, a warm trickle started from my nose.

Blood. Dripping onto the pristine white floor.

Ethan saw it.

"More theatrics, Sarah? You' re pathetic." He sounded disgusted.

The world started to spin. The lights in the store blurred.

I swayed, a roaring in my ears.

Then, darkness.

I heard Isabelle scream, a genuine sound of shock this time.

I heard Ethan' s voice, sharp, "Sarah?"

Then nothing.