Chapter 4

Adeline's POV

The van door yanks open. Two men in masks drag me out, one hand clamped over my mouth before I can make a sound. I fight back as hard as I can, but something slams into the back of my head and the world cuts to black.

When I come to, I'm chained to a metal chair, the kind that's been rusting for years. The air smells like mold and gasoline. An abandoned warehouse.

"She's up."

One of the men crouches in front of me, looking me over like I'm nothing. I recognize the suit. Tristan's personal security.

He pulls out his phone and puts it on speaker.

"We've got her."

Two seconds of silence. Then Tristan's voice comes through, flat and worn out.

"Keep her there. Three days. Let her cool off."

The call ends.

The man grins. "You catch that? Boss wants you to cool off. We're real good at helping with that."

My heart stops.

That was his voice. The man I loved for three years, the man I burned every bridge for.

"Go ahead," the other one says, cracking his knuckles. "Just don't kill her."

The first punch lands in my stomach.

That's where I lost the baby. The pain bends me in half. I can't even scream, just these broken little sounds leaking out of me. The hits keep coming. I taste blood. I hear something in my body that shouldn't be making sounds.

Then the warehouse door opens.

The perfume hits before she does.

Brielle walks in like she owns the place, heels clicking on the concrete. She crouches down and grabs my jaw.

"Look at you." She almost laughs. "Did you really think making a scene would bring Tristan back to you? In his head, I'm the one who saved him. I'm his everything. I always have been."

My stomach turns. "You didn't save anyone. That was me. I was the one who pulled him out of that fire."

"Shh." She leans in close, voice dropping, eyes lit up with something ugly. "I know."

"Of course I know it was you. So what? When he woke up, the first face he saw was mine. All I had to do was cry and tell him the burns on my back were from carrying him out. He believed every word. You were in the ICU. You couldn't say anything."

"And your baby? I pushed you down those stairs on purpose. Even if Tristan figures it out, he'll cover for me. And if you try to say anything, he'll cut off your mother's medication and you know it."

Every word cuts deeper than the last.

"I'm going to kill you."

I lunge for her. The chains bite into my wrists and blood runs down my arms.

Brielle stumbles back, then laughs and waves at the guards. "You see that? She's lost it. Hold her down."

Both men pin my shoulders and force me back into the chair. She's less than an arm's length away. I can't reach her. That helplessness is worse than any punch.

She smooths out her skirt and gives me one last look.

"Kill me? Please." She turns for the door. "Sit here and think real hard about what you get for coming after what's mine."

The guards follow her out. The door shuts. The warehouse goes completely dark.

I don't know how long I sit there.

The pain in my stomach comes in waves. The cuts on my wrists scab over and then open up again. After a while, I can't tell if I'm awake or not.

At some point, footsteps pull me back.

One of the guards comes in and unchains me, expression blank. "Time's up. You're going home."

They drop me on the front steps of the estate like a bag of trash. My face hits the cold pavement. I just lie there, trying to breathe.

I pull myself up using the wall and make it inside one step at a time.

The second I push the door open, my phone starts going off. The care facility.

"Miss Whitlock." The nurse's voice is shaking. "Your mother's medication, the targeted therapy, it was stopped three days ago. Without Mr. Merrick's authorization, we can't continue her treatment. She's not doing well."

Everything in me goes cold.

Three days. While I was chained to that chair, Tristan was cutting off my mother's lifeline at the same time.

I pull up my father's number. It doesn't even finish the first ring.

"Dad." My voice comes out in pieces. "Mom and my brother. They're not safe. Please, you need to get them out now."

"Already handled." His voice is steady. Calm. "I got the call thirty minutes ago. The helicopter is on its way to the facility right now. There's a car waiting out front for you. Come outside."

I close my eyes.

The last thing I was holding onto finally lets go.

I get my suitcase, already packed. I set the divorce papers, bloodstained, in the center of the dining room table.

One last look at the house that held me for three years.

Then I walk out and don't look back.