Chapter 2

A scream echoed in the darkness, and it took me a moment to realize it was my own.

The room was silent now, but the air was thick with the foul stench of sweat and blood. I was fading, drifting in and out of consciousness.

My mind, seeking refuge, fled from the unbearable present. It pulled me back, back to a sunnier time.

Kaeden.

The memory was so vivid. He was smiling, his eyes crinkling at the corners. The way they always did when he looked at me. He was the charming, successful businessman who had swept me off my feet, the man I loved with every fiber of my being.

"You're the strongest, most intelligent woman I've ever met, Daria Pratt," he had whispered on our wedding night, his lips against my ear. "And you're all mine."

How could that man, the man who held me like I was the most precious thing in the world, be the same one who just tortured me and left me to die?

Our life had been perfect, or so I thought. We were a power couple. My career in marketing was taking off, and his business empire was expanding. We had a beautiful home, a circle of influential friends, and a love that felt unshakeable.

Then Clemmie Odonnell came into our lives.

She was introduced as the daughter of a business associate, a fragile artist recovering from a "nervous breakdown." Kaeden took her under his wing, a gesture I initially saw as kind.

"We have to help her, Daria," he'd said. "She's been through so much."

His attention started to shift. A business dinner for two became a dinner for three. A weekend getaway was interrupted by a frantic call from Clemmie, claiming she was having a panic attack. Kaeden rushed to her side without a second thought, leaving me alone in a hotel room hundreds of miles from home.

I was no longer his priority. I was an obligation.

One evening, at a charity gala, I was supposed to be on his arm. Instead, I stood by the bar, watching him across the room as he fussed over Clemmie, making sure her champagne glass was never empty, laughing at her vapid comments. He hadn't spoken a word to me all night.

I couldn't take it anymore. The constant neglect, the feeling of being replaced. That night, I confronted him.

"She's manipulating you, Kaeden. Can't you see it?"

"You're being paranoid, Daria. She's a friend in need."

We fought. I packed a bag, ready to leave. But he stopped me at the door, pulling me into his arms. He bought me an obscenely expensive necklace the next day, a glittering diamond apology.

"I'm sorry," he said. "It won't happen again. You and I, we're forever."

And because I loved him, because I desperately wanted to believe him, I stayed. I forgave him.

Things were better for a while. The calls from Clemmie became less frequent. Kaeden was home for dinner more often. He was attentive, loving, the man I had married.

Then I found out I was pregnant.

He was ecstatic. For a few blissful weeks, he was the perfect husband again. He touched my growing belly with reverence, talked about names, and planned the nursery. Clemmie was a distant memory. I was foolish enough to feel safe.

I was so happy, so full of hope. I posted a simple, joyful announcement on my social media-a picture of a pair of tiny baby shoes with the caption, "The next chapter of our story begins soon."

That single post was my death warrant.

The next day, Clemmie had a "relapse." Kaeden told me she had seen my post and it had sent her into a deep depression, reminding her of her own infertility and her tragic past.

"How could you be so insensitive, Daria?" he had raged, his eyes wild. "You know how fragile she is! You did this on purpose to hurt her!"

No amount of reasoning could get through to him. He was completely under her spell. He saw my joy as a deliberate act of cruelty.

That was when he brought me here.

A faint sound from the hallway pulled me back to the horrifying present. The door was slightly ajar. I could hear their voices.

"Are you sure she'll be okay?" It was Kaeden's voice, laced with a sliver of concern.

Clemmie's voice was smooth as silk, laced with poison. "Don't worry, darling. She's strong. She'll survive this little lesson."

A pause.

"Besides," Clemmie continued, her tone dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "We need her alive. For now. Dr. Gates said she's a perfect match. Everything is ready."