Chapter 2

"The assignment is in a disputed territory in West Africa," Dr. O'Connell, or Liam as he insisted I call him now, said over the secure line a week later. "It's a field hospital run by an NGO. They need an experienced ER doctor. It's dangerous, but it's far away from here. It's a place to start over, Evelyn."

"I'll take it," I said without hesitation. Anything to get away from the house that was no longer a home, from the men who were no longer my family.

I hung up the phone and looked at myself in the mirror. The bruises on my face had faded to pale yellow ghosts, but the damage was deeper. The virus they had injected me with had left its mark. I was prone to sudden fevers, and a tremor sometimes ran through my hands. A constant, physical reminder of the attack. Of Mark's betrayal.

I was packing a small suitcase when I heard them downstairs. Mark and Kevin. Their voices drifted up the stairs.

"She's been quiet today," Kevin said. "Is the old hag finally leaving?"

"Patience, son," Mark's smooth voice replied. "I've been working on her. I told her a change of scenery would do her good, maybe go back to her parents' place for a while. I'm playing the part of the concerned husband perfectly. She'll be gone soon, and then your mother can come home."

The casual cruelty of it made my stomach turn. This wasn't a recent decision. This was a long, calculated campaign. I thought back over the past year. The little arguments he'd started, the ways he'd subtly isolated me from my friends, the "accidental" comments he'd made to Kevin that painted me as a wicked stepmother. It was all a setup. He had been planning to replace me for a long time. The assault was just his final, brutal move.

I closed my suitcase and took a deep breath, schooling my features into a mask of weary sadness. I walked downstairs. They both looked up, their faces instantly shifting into expressions of concern. It was sickening to watch.

"Evelyn, honey," Mark said, rushing to my side. "Are you okay? You look pale."

"I'm just tired," I said, letting my voice waver.

Kevin lounged on the sofa, not even bothering to look up from his phone. "Maybe you should go lie down."

"I was thinking," I said, looking at Mark, "that maybe you're right. Maybe I do need a change of scenery. Some time away." I was testing them, playing their game.

Mark's eyes lit up with a flicker of triumph before he masked it with worry. "Oh, honey, if you think that's what's best. Of course. We'll support you. Whatever you need."

"I just don't understand," I said, letting a tear slip down my cheek. "My career is over. My reputation is ruined. Why would someone post that video?" I looked directly at Kevin.

He finally looked at me, his eyes cold and empty. "Probably some sicko. The internet is full of them." He said it without a hint of shame.

Mark wrapped his arm around me. "Don't think about it, Evelyn. We'll get through this. Kevin and I are here for you."

His touch felt like a violation. I had to force myself not to flinch. The man holding me, pretending to comfort me, was the one who had hired men to attack me. The boy on the sofa, my stepson, had gleefully posted the evidence of my humiliation for the world to see.

"I think I'll go visit my parents for a few weeks," I said, the lie tasting like ash in my mouth. "Just to... clear my head."

"An excellent idea," Mark said, his relief palpable. "I'll book you a flight. First class, of course. You deserve to be comfortable."

"Thank you, Mark," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "You're so good to me."

He smiled, a smug, self-satisfied expression. He thought he had won. He thought I was broken.

He was wrong. I wasn't broken. I was being remade. In the fire of their betrayal, I was being forged into something new. Something harder. Something that would survive.

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