Chapter 2

The next morning, Annabelle packed a small bag. She was leaving. She couldn't stay in that house another minute. As she reached the door, Jack's voice stopped her.

"Where are you going?"

He stood at the top of the stairs, already dressed in a sharp suit. Beside him, Everly clutched his arm, her eyes red-rimmed.

"I'm leaving, Jack."

"Don't be ridiculous," he said, descending the stairs. "You're just emotional." He stopped in front of her. "Before you go, Everly needs something."

Annabelle stared at him. "What?"

"Your violin," Everly said, her voice a fragile whisper. "The one Jack gave you. It's so beautiful. I just want to hold it."

The Guarneri. Her most prized possession. The symbol of his love, now tainted.

"No," Annabelle said, her voice flat.

Everly's face crumpled. Tears streamed down her cheeks. "I'm sorry," she cried, hiding her face in Jack's chest. "I just... I'm so sad, and music helps."

Jack's arms tightened around his sister. He glared at Annabelle over Everly's head, his face a thundercloud of fury.

"Look what you did," he hissed. "She's fragile."

He cooed at Everly, stroking her hair. "It's okay, sweetie. I'm here." The tenderness in his voice was a physical blow to Annabelle. He had never spoken to her like that, not even in the beginning.

"Apologize to her," Jack commanded, his eyes like chips of ice.

Annabelle laughed. It was a broken, humorless sound. "Apologize? For what? For wanting to keep what is mine?" She remembered just last week, she had found Everly in her music room, her hands all over the sheet music for her upcoming recital. The pages were smudged with what looked like jam.

When Annabelle had confronted her, Everly had burst into tears, claiming she just wanted to feel closer to the music. Jack had brushed it off. "It's just paper, Annabelle. I can buy you a hundred new copies."

"I'm leaving," Annabelle repeated, turning toward the door.

"If you walk out that door, the wedding is off!" he threatened.

"You think I care?" she shot back. "You're the one who kept refusing to marry me for years! I was the one begging!"

He grabbed her arm, his fingers digging into her skin. "You're not going anywhere."

She met his gaze, and for the first time, she felt nothing. No love, no fear, just a vast, cold emptiness. The man she loved was gone, replaced by this monster.

His eyes widened at her cold expression, and his grip tightened. Rage contorted his handsome features.

"Take off the dress," he snarled.

"What?"

"The dress. I bought it for you. Everything you have, I bought for you. Take it off. You can leave, but you'll leave with nothing."

He was trying to humiliate her, to break her. He gestured to the two maids who had been watching silently from the kitchen doorway. "Help her."

The maids, their faces pale, moved toward her. She didn't fight. She stood still as they peeled the designer dress from her body, leaving her in her simple underwear. The cold air of the foyer bit at her skin.

Everly gasped, a theatrical hand flying to her mouth. "Oh, Jack, look! Her scar!"

Annabelle instinctively crossed her arms over her chest, trying to hide the jagged, pale line that ran from her collarbone to her shoulder. An old injury from a car accident years ago. It had nearly ended her career. The permanent nerve damage meant she could never play for more than an hour without pain. It was her secret shame, a vulnerability she had only ever shown to Jack.

"Cover that up," Jack said, his voice laced with disgust. He didn't look at her, but at Everly. "It's upsetting her."

Annabelle's last hope shattered. He knew what that scar represented. The months of physical therapy, the fear that she would never play again. He had been there, holding her hand, telling her she was beautiful, scar and all.

Now, he looked at it-at her-as if she were something grotesque.

"You know, Everly," Annabelle said, her voice dangerously calm. "This scar is from an accident. It's a part of my story. Unlike some people's scars, which are self-inflicted for attention." She looked pointedly at the faint, neat lines on Everly's wrists, lines that were always on display.

Everly's eyes widened. She let out a small cry and her eyes rolled back in her head as she collapsed in a heap on the floor.

"Everly!" Jack roared. He rushed to his sister's side, gathering her into his arms. He looked at Annabelle, his eyes burning with a hatred so pure it scorched her.

"You did this," he spat. "You will pay for this."

He carried Everly up the grand staircase, leaving Annabelle standing alone and half-naked in the cold, cavernous hall.