Chapter 2

The drive to the Stone family' s main estate felt impossibly long. Every bump in the road sent a fresh wave of pain through my battered body. I clutched the single plane ticket Arthur' s assistant had given me, the paper flimsy and precious in my hand.

I found Arthur Stone in his study. He was an old man, his back stooped with age and regret, but his eyes were still sharp. He looked at me, at the bruises coloring my skin, at the deadness in my eyes, and his face crumpled.

"Chloe," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I am so, so sorry."

He stood up and walked over to me, his steps slow and deliberate.

"I was wrong," he admitted, his gaze not leaving mine. "I thought... I thought if you married him, you could heal him. I thought your love would be enough to pull him out of the darkness his first love left behind. I never imagined... I never imagined he would do this to you."

His words were a balm on a wound that had been festering for years. For the first time, someone in this family was acknowledging my pain.

Tears I didn' t know I had left began to well in my eyes.

"It' s not your fault, Grandpa," I whispered, the name feeling foreign on my tongue after so long.

"It is," he insisted, shaking his head. "I pushed you into this. I saw a good, kind girl, and I sacrificed you for my grandson' s sake. It was selfish. It was cruel."

He looked away, towards the large window overlooking the sprawling gardens.

"What do you want, Chloe?" he asked, his voice soft. "Anything. A house, money... name it, and it' s yours. It' s the least I can do."

I thought about his offer. Money couldn' t erase the scars. A house couldn' t fill the emptiness inside me.

I held up the small, plain wooden urn I had managed to salvage from my room. It was empty now, but it was all I had left of them.

"I don' t want anything, Grandpa," I said, my voice surprisingly steady. "I just want to be free. I want to go somewhere he can never find me."

My request hung in the air between us. It was so simple, yet it felt like asking for the moon. Freedom was a concept I had forgotten.

He looked at the urn in my hands, and a fresh wave of pain crossed his features. He understood. He finally understood the depth of what I had lost.

"Of course," he said, his voice cracking. "I' ve arranged everything. A new identity, a place to live overseas. He will never know where you are. I give you my word."

A single tear traced a path down his wrinkled cheek.

"Go, my child. Be free. Find your own happiness."

The relief was so immense it almost brought me to my knees. I nodded, unable to speak. I turned and left the study, clutching the empty urn to my chest.

When I arrived back at the house I shared with Liam, the house that had been my prison, it was to find Maya waiting for me in the foyer.

She was lounging on the chaise, filing her nails, a smug look on her face.

"Well, well, look what the cat dragged in," she drawled, not even bothering to look up. "Did you enjoy your little outing?"

She finally lifted her head, her eyes scanning my body with open contempt.

"You look like garbage. He really did a number on you this time."

Her words were crude, designed to inflict maximum pain. It was a familiar tactic. She took pleasure in my suffering.

I just stood there, my mind a blank slate. I had grown numb to her taunts. Over the years, Liam had found so many ways to torture me, and Maya had always been an enthusiastic participant. The constant humiliation, the forced servitude, the public degradation... it had all blended into a monotonous loop of pain.

Maya' s malice was just background noise now.

All I could think about was the plane ticket and Arthur' s promise.

Freedom.

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