Adelia spent the night curled into a tight ball on the small sofa in the guest room. She didn't sleep.

When the gray morning light filtered through the blinds, she pushed herself up. Her joints ached. She walked out of the guest room and into the main living area.

Fed Cardenas, Dominic's executive assistant, was standing by the kitchen island holding a tablet.

Fed looked at her with a completely blank expression. He informed her that Dominic required her to fulfill her duties as his wife one last time. She was to attend the family lunch at the Long Island estate. If she refused, Dominic would not release her passport.

Adelia needed her identification to survive. She swallowed the bile rising in her throat and nodded.

She went back to the room, changed into a conservative beige suit, and went downstairs.

She slid into the backseat of the waiting Rolls-Royce. Dominic was already sitting on the opposite side. His eyes were closed. He didn't acknowledge her presence.

The physical distance between them on the leather seat was wide enough to fit a third person. The air conditioning blew freezing air over her arms.

The car pulled up to the massive, castle-like architecture of the Long Island estate. A butler in a uniform opened the door and held a black umbrella over them.

They walked into the grand dining room. The elders of the Thompson family were already seated along the massive mahogany table.

The lunch was a suffocating execution.

The older relatives did not bother to lower their voices. They openly mocked Adelia's Appalachian background. They brought up the three-year-old rumors, calling her a thief and a manipulator.

An aunt sitting across the table deliberately asked about Carly. She loudly proclaimed that Carly was the only woman with the grace and pedigree to sit beside the head of the family.

Adelia kept her eyes glued to her plate. She methodically cut her steak into tiny pieces, not taking a single bite.

Dominic sat at the head of the table. He slowly swirled the red wine in his glass. He watched his family tear her apart and did absolutely nothing to stop it.

He pulled his phone from his pocket and began typing a message.

Adelia caught a glimpse of the screen out of the corner of her eye. The name "Carly" was at the top of the text thread.

Her stomach violently rejected the situation. She placed her knife and fork down on the porcelain plate.

The agonizing lunch finally ended.

As they walked out to the grand foyer, the sky outside turned pitch black. A massive thunderstorm broke over the island. Rain lashed against the windows, and thunder shook the floorboards.

Adelia followed Dominic out to the covered portico. The driver had pulled the black Maybach up to the steps.

A bodyguard opened a massive umbrella. Dominic walked down the steps toward the open car door. Adelia stepped forward to follow him back to Manhattan.

Her fingers brushed the cold metal of the door handle.

Dominic suddenly stopped. He turned his head and looked at her. His eyes were devoid of any human warmth.

He spoke over the sound of the crashing rain.

He said since she had signed the papers, she no longer had the right to sit in his car. He told her to figure out how to roll back to the city herself.

Adelia froze. A gust of wind blew a sheet of freezing rain under the portico, instantly soaking the hem of her beige skirt. She stared at him, unable to process the sheer cruelty of the act.

Dominic slid into the leather seat. The tinted window rolled up smoothly, completely severing her from the dry, warm interior.

The Maybach accelerated into the storm. The heavy tires hit a deep puddle, sending a wave of freezing, muddy water splashing over Adelia's legs.

The estate butler stepped out onto the portico. He coldly informed her that the estate was closing to visitors. He physically corralled her down the steps and out the front gates.

The heavy iron gates clanged shut behind her, locking her out.

The estate was located in an exclusive, isolated area halfway up a mountain. Taxis did not come here. Adelia pulled out her phone, but the storm had killed the cellular signal. The screen showed zero bars.

She had no choice. She started walking down the steep, winding asphalt road into the teeth of the storm.

The rain blinded her. The wind pushed her sideways.

Suddenly, her foot slipped on the slick pavement. The thin heel of her shoe jammed into a crack in the asphalt and snapped clean off. Her ankle twisted violently.

A sharp, shooting pain traveled up her leg.

The broken heel felt like a cruel mockery of her broken marriage. With a sudden surge of self-destructive anger, Adelia bent down, unbuckled both shoes, and threw them violently into the wet grass. She continued walking barefoot on the rough, jagged asphalt. Small stones and broken twigs sliced into the soles of her feet. With every step, she left a faint smear of blood on the road, which the heavy rain instantly washed away.

The sky grew darker. The temperature plummeted. Adelia's clothes were plastered to her skin. Her lips turned a bruised purple. Her entire body shook uncontrollably with violent shivers, but she forced her bleeding feet to keep moving.

She finally reached the main highway at the bottom of the mountain.

A rusted, beat-up pickup truck hauling crates of produce slowed down. The driver, an older man with a weathered face, rolled down the window and yelled for her to get in.

Adelia climbed into the back seat. The cabin smelled strongly of raw fish and damp earth. She wrapped herself in a scratchy wool blanket the driver handed her. She stared out the window, her eyes completely hollow.

Hours later, the truck pulled up to the curb outside the Manhattan penthouse building. Adelia thanked the driver quietly and stepped out.

She dragged her stiff, freezing body through the opulent lobby, ignoring the stares of the concierge.

She rode the elevator up, entered the apartment, and walked straight past the mess in the living room.

She went into the guest room and pulled a cheap, battered suitcase from under the bed. She shoved her few old, pre-marriage clothes inside.

She walked to the entryway. She took the heavy metal keycard that granted access to the penthouse-the symbol of the Thompson family matriarch-and placed it perfectly straight on the shoe cabinet.

Adelia grabbed the handle of her broken suitcase. She walked out the door and pressed the button for the lobby, permanently severing her ties to her three-year prison.

The elevator let out a soft ping as it reached the ground floor.

Adelia dragged her cheap suitcase out of the steel box. She walked across the expansive marble lobby toward the revolving glass doors leading to the street.

The automatic doors slid open.

Dominic walked in. He was returning from a business dinner, bringing a rush of damp, freezing air with him.

His eyes immediately locked onto the battered suitcase trailing behind Adelia. His pupils contracted sharply. His expensive leather shoes stopped dead on the marble floor.

Panic flared in his chest, but he instantly buried it under a thick layer of arrogance. He shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his tailored trousers and stepped directly into her path, blocking her exit.

He looked down at her dripping hair and her pale, shivering body. His lips curled into a sneer.

He asked her what kind of childish runaway game she was playing, dragging garbage through his lobby in the middle of the night.

Adelia did not lower her head in submission the way she used to. She tilted her chin up and looked directly into his dark eyes.

Her throat was raw. Her voice was raspy, but the tone was absolute steel. She told him to move.

Her blatant disregard ignited Dominic's temper. He pulled his hand from his pocket and slammed it down on the plastic handle of her suitcase. The veins on the back of his hand bulged against his skin.

He demanded to know what the hell she thought she was doing.

Adelia let go of the handle. She took one step back.

She looked at the man she had loved since she was a teenager. She asked him a simple question. She asked why the love he had for her three years ago had vanished without a trace.

Dominic's expression darkened instantly. A vicious shadow crossed his face.

He let out a cold laugh. He said it vanished because he realized she was a venomous snake who would do anything out of jealousy.

Adelia took a slow, deep breath. She didn't bother defending herself against the three-year-old accusations anymore. Instead, she reached for the deepest, sharpest thorn buried in her chest.

She maintained eye contact. She enunciated every single word.

She told him she had seen the hidden financial charges herself. She knew that for the past three years, he had been funding a private residence at The Pines estate.

The moment the words "The Pines" left her mouth, the temperature around Dominic plummeted to absolute zero.

His eyes turned feral. It was as if she had reached into his chest and squeezed his bare heart.

He lunged forward. His large hand clamped around her slender jaw. His fingers dug into her skin with terrifying force, pressing hard enough to bruise the bone.

He leaned in, his face inches from hers. He ground his teeth together, his breath hot against her cold skin.

He warned her never to speak that name again. He told her she had absolutely no right to investigate The Pines.

Adelia was forced to tilt her head back. The pain in her jaw was blinding, but she didn't struggle. She just looked at him with the profound sadness of looking at a stranger.

She asked him why, if he already had someone else, he didn't just let her go. She asked why he chose to torture her with cold violence for three years, making her wish she was dead.

Dominic stared into the dead, empty void of her eyes. A sharp, inexplicable pain pierced his own chest. But his defense mechanism was cruelty.

He tightened his grip slightly. His voice was devoid of mercy.

He said she owed a debt to Carly's sister. He said a vicious woman like her deserved to rot in a loveless marriage.

Those words acted like a guillotine, cleanly severing the very last, microscopic thread of hope Adelia had kept hidden in her heart.

The rims of her eyes burned red, but she forced the moisture back down.

She violently twisted her head and shoved his arm away. As she broke his grip, her fingernails scraped hard across the back of his hand.

Four bloody scratches welled up instantly on his skin.

Dominic looked down at the blood on his hand. He froze. He had never expected her to fight back with physical violence. She had always been so compliant.

Adelia grabbed the handle of her suitcase again. Her voice was colder than the rain outside.

She said that as of today, she didn't owe him a damn thing.

She bypassed his towering frame. She didn't hesitate as she pushed through the revolving doors and stepped out into the freezing New York drizzle.

The lobby security guards stood frozen by the desk, too terrified to breathe.

Dominic stood rooted to the spot. He didn't turn around. He stared straight ahead at the reflection in the glass doors, watching her figure grow smaller and smaller in the dark.

His hands balled into tight fists at his sides. His fingernails dug so deeply into his palms they broke the skin. His suffocating pride acted like concrete, keeping his feet glued to the floor. He couldn't chase her.

Adelia's bare, bloody feet stepped into freezing puddles on the sidewalk. Every step sent agonizing spikes of pain up her legs, but she walked faster and faster.

A passing taxi honked its horn. Adelia waved her hand frantically. The car pulled over.

She lifted the heavy suitcase and shoved it into the trunk, her muscles screaming in protest.

She climbed into the back seat. The moment the door slammed shut, her entire body went limp. She collapsed against the cheap vinyl seat and closed her eyes.

Through the glass doors of the lobby, Dominic watched the taillights of the taxi disappear into the rain.

He suddenly spun around and drove his bleeding fist directly into the solid marble pillar next to him.

The skin on his knuckles split open, smearing bright red blood across the white stone.

Adelia dragged her suitcase down the concrete stairs of the subway station. She swiped her MetroCard and boarded the late-night train heading deep into Brooklyn.

The subway car was mostly empty. A few homeless men sleeping on the plastic benches opened their eyes to stare at her dripping clothes and her bare, bloody feet. Adelia wrapped her arms tightly around her chest, trying to stop her teeth from chattering.

She exited the station and limped through several dimly lit blocks. She finally stopped in front of a decaying red-brick apartment building. She pressed the buzzer for her sister Elberta's unit.

The heavy door creaked open. Elberta stood in the doorway wearing a faded cotton nightgown. When she saw her sister shivering and covered in mud and blood, her hands flew to her mouth in shock.

Elberta grabbed Adelia's arm and pulled her into the cramped, narrow hallway. She rushed to the bathroom and brought back a clean towel, frantically rubbing Adelia's soaking wet hair.

The commotion woke Garry, Elberta's husband. He walked out of the bedroom, his face clouded with deep irritation. "What the hell is all the noise?" His words died in his throat when he saw Adelia standing there. The irritation vanished instantly, replaced by a wide, calculating, and greedy smile. In the past, Adelia's visits always meant expensive gifts, imported steaks, or designer clothes.

Garry hurried to the kitchen and poured a glass of hot water. He handed it to Adelia, rubbing his hands together eagerly. He leaned in and asked if Dominic had any new real estate developments he could get a piece of.

Adelia wrapped her freezing fingers around the hot glass. The heat burned her skin, but it grounded her. She kept her head down and spoke in a flat, exhausted voice.

She told him she and Dominic were getting a divorce.

Garry's smile froze instantly. His eyes darted around frantically. A calculating gleam appeared in his pupils.

He leaned closer, his voice urgent. He asked how many millions she got in the settlement. He asked if she got the Manhattan penthouse or the Hamptons property.

Adelia looked up at him. She told him the truth.

She said she signed an agreement to leave with zero assets. She took nothing so she could get out immediately.

The words "zero assets" hit Garry like a physical blow. The muscles around his eyes began to twitch violently. The color drained from his face, replaced by an ugly, dark red flush.

He lunged forward and violently snatched the hot glass of water right out of Adelia's hands.

He slammed the glass down on the cheap wooden coffee table. Water splashed everywhere, soaking a stack of mail.

He pointed a thick finger directly at Adelia's face and started screaming. He called her a mental patient. He said she was a complete idiot for throwing away a billionaire's fortune just to come here and play the victim.

Garry didn't hide his disgust. He yelled that she was a useless parasite and that he wasn't going to let her drain his hard-earned money.

Elberta burst into tears. She stepped in front of Adelia, using her body as a shield. She screamed at Garry to shut his mouth, telling him Adelia was her only sister and this was her home too.

Garry let out a vicious sneer. He looked at his wife with pure contempt. He told Elberta she was nothing but a leech living off his paycheck, and she had no right to play the generous host.

The argument escalated into a screaming match. Garry's face contorted with rage. He raised his heavy hand, preparing to slap Elberta across the face.

Adelia moved with lightning speed. She reached out and clamped her hand around Garry's thick wrist, stopping his arm in mid-air.

Her eyes were dead and freezing cold. Three years in the cutthroat world of the Thompson family had taught her how to project pure intimidation.

She stared into Garry's eyes and told him in a low, dangerous voice that if he ever touched her sister, she would destroy him.

Garry felt the icy grip on his wrist and saw the murder in her eyes. He flinched. He yanked his arm back, cursing under his breath. He turned and stomped back into the bedroom, slamming the door so hard the walls shook.

The living room fell silent. Elberta collapsed onto the sofa, pulling Adelia into her arms. She sobbed uncontrollably, apologizing over and over for being too weak to protect her.

Adelia swallowed the lump of glass in her throat. She patted her sister's back, holding her tears back.

Elberta wiped her eyes and went to the bathroom to get a plastic first-aid kit. She knelt on the worn carpet and carefully poured hydrogen peroxide over the deep cuts on the soles of Adelia's feet.

The chemical reaction bubbled white. A blinding, searing pain shot up Adelia's legs. She clamped her jaw shut, refusing to make a sound.

She looked down at the gray hairs mixed into her sister's roots. She slowly curled her hands into fists.

After bandaging the wounds, Elberta led Adelia into the tiny, cluttered spare room. She gave Adelia an oversized, faded t-shirt to sleep in.

Adelia lay down on the hard, lumpy folding bed. Through the thin drywall, she could hear Garry complaining and cursing in the master bedroom.

She stared at the water stains on the ceiling. She realized her sister was trapped in a different kind of hell, and right now, Adelia had zero power to save her.

A fierce, burning need for survival ignited in her chest. She had to get a job. She had to get money.

At three in the morning, Adelia sat up on the folding bed. She pulled her phone from her bag and connected to the weak apartment WiFi.

She opened a job portal app. She began aggressively editing her resume. She didn't hide her identity as Dominic's wife; instead, she strategically leveraged the high-level logistical and translation work she had discreetly handled for his overseas accounts during that three-year gap, framing her application as a hungry professional eager to prove her own worth.

The blue light from the screen illuminated her pale face. Her eyes were sharp and unyielding. Tomorrow was going to be a bloodbath, and she was ready for it.