My fists curled. "Why? Because I won’t roll over and let you replace me?"
Her laugh was low, triumphant. "Replace? Eliana, I already have. Darren held my hand through the launch. He kissed me in front of the cameras. And the best part? The public loves us. Soon, you’ll be nothing."
Her perfume turned my stomach.
"Enjoy your cell," she whispered, leaning close, her lips brushing my ear. "And don’t worry—I sent a little welcome party to keep you company."
I only realized what she meant when it was too late.
That night, they came. Women with eyes like knives and fists like iron. Boots in my ribs. Knuckles against my face. A kick to my abdomen so brutal that I thought my stitches would tear open.
I refused to scream. Refused to cry. I wouldn't give Sally that victory.
By morning, I was barely conscious. Alive, but wrecked.
Battered, stitched, and bandaged, I drove to the hospital. On the way back, my phone lit up with flashing notifications. Photos. Sally laughing, drink in hand. Music, lights, a glittering party.
At my house.
The house my father had given me, perched on the sea.
In my rage, I turned the car and sped there.