Chapter 2

A week later, the heavy bolt scraped open. Julian stood in the doorway, his expensive suit looking ridiculous in the middle of the swamp. He expected to find me broken, weeping, ready to beg.

Instead, he found me sitting calmly on the floor.

"I'll do it," I said, my voice even. "I'll break the engagement with Carter."

Relief washed over his face, so obvious it was almost comical. "Good," he said, trying to sound magnanimous. "You made the right choice, Elena. It's for the best."

He helped me up, his touch feeling like a brand. "Don't worry," he added, leading me out into the blinding sunlight. "I told you, I'll find you a good husband. Someone respectable."

I just nodded, my mind a million miles away. My groom was not for him to choose. My wedding was in seven days.

As we neared the road where his luxury SUV was parked, another car pulled up. Cassandra stepped out, looking perfect and concerned.

"Elena! Oh, thank God you're alright! I was so worried." She rushed over and hugged me, her perfume cloying and fake.

Julian beamed at her. "See? We all care about you."

Then, as she pulled away, Cassandra let out a little cry and stumbled, clutching her ankle. "Oh! I think I twisted it."

Instantly, Julian was at her side, all gentle hands and worried noises. "Cassie, are you okay? Let me see."

He scooped her up as if she were made of glass and carried her to his SUV, settling her carefully in the passenger seat. Then he turned to me. His face was hard again.

"Get out," he said.

I stared at him. "What?"

"Get out of the car," he repeated, his voice sharp with impatience. He grabbed my arm and hauled me out, pushing me onto the gravel shoulder of the road. I fell, scraping my hands and knee. The sharp pain was nothing compared to the cold dread in my stomach.

He tossed a set of keys at my feet. "Take her car. Drive it back to the mansion."

He knew. He knew about the car accident. The one from my childhood, the one that killed my foster parents and left me with a crippling fear of driving. Cassandra had made sure to tell him all about my weaknesses.

"I can't," I whispered, the words getting stuck in my throat.

"Don't be dramatic," he sneered. "It's time you grew up."

He slammed the door, got into the driver's seat, and sped away, leaving me stranded in a cloud of dust, miles from civilization, with the keys to my own personal hell lying at my feet.