Mary Jane tugged and tugged at the sheets until they shredded apart. The latest nightmare roamed through her mind and she couldn’t see another way out. Peter had tormented her night and day. Premonitions of her horrible past with him tormented her while awake.

Night terrors that broke her heart in half when she slept.

Seated on the mattress, she started knotting them together. This was her way out, she determined as she looped one side of the homemade rope over the wrought iron light fixture. Canelo still refused to tell her why he’d abducted her. And ending her torture of an existence was the only solution.

Canelo and Soledad would lose.

Now, she pondered the same depressing thought she had while Beasley’s patrons leered at her: Why live?

She pushed the bedpost over until it was almost level with the Spanish wrought iron light fixture then looped the rope around her neck.

No regrets, she sighed to herself, while stepping one foot off the edge of the bed. The pressure on her throat so unbearable that she almost considered pulling back, but she fixated on sorrow.

“Peter, please, you’re making a mistake. I just wanted to show you the miscalculated computations is all,” Mallory said, as he came into the basement of his mansion. She’d said the same line over and over for three days, maybe four. Time seemed to merge together. “I won’t tell anyone, I promise. I’m getting married in a few weeks. I am in love…I won’t tell…”

“No, you won’t tell,” he said, opening a small pill bottle. He held out the red capsule to her. The time she took it before, her brain hurt so badly.

“Please.” She pulled at the chain around her leg.

“Don’t worry, Mal. I won’t hurt you any more than I already have.” His hand went out to her, but she tried to lunge at him. Peter pulled back. “The computations that you went over are for a brain processing program that I have. They’re not for a facial product. Thus, the reason why the stats didn’t add up. There’d be no lawsuits for skin cancer, because this process only takes a few weeks. Not long enough for those extreme UV rays to have such a dire effect. I’ve worked the math and gotten my system to fix a person’s cognition within a month. So my current test subjects are safe.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You are so beautiful, Mal.” He rubbed a hand over her cheek. “I told myself not to get married again after my first wife took me for half. Nobody knows it. Albeit, she literally gets half of my money from my work that has nothing to do with Grienke Laboratory. That’s where the real money is, sweetheart.”

Mallory’s face blurred in confusion. Peter’s ramblings made no sense.

“It’s all right, Mal. I understand that you’re confused. We’ll have a lifetime to get it right. But let’s say I offer a service for the wealthy, using the very compound you tried to compute. Do you know Senator Riley?”

She knew of the man whose political campaign just skyrocketed after a speech about his wife dying in a fire.

“Whitley Rodgers was baking a cake for her dear husband while he boarded a plane from D.C…but that’s a lie. His wife is living in Arizona, without her inheritance of course, because the good senator needs it for when he runs for presidency. Money is required for those types of things.”

“You’re crazy!”

Peter’s words made no sense. Whitley Rodgers died a horrible death. Half the state mourned the rich woman’s death, because Whitley had been an advocate and not just a silent force at the senator’s side.

“Don’t worry, Mal, I would not condemn you to the same lifestyle as Mrs. Rodgers. You’re too beautiful for a place like that.”

She stopped listening as he told her a story of chemical neuron blockers. Peter was mad! He seemed as if he knew how to erase memories and present new ones. Her eyes grew brighter. “But…But…I’m, I’m pregnant,” Mallory whimpered. She’d been so moody as of recent. Arguments with Dad escalating. Arguments with Keegan too. All because he wanted her to quit the internship. She’d finished the hours, their wedding had the possibility to be “quaint” instead of more extravagant. Honestly, she only wanted to invite so many guests just to goad her dad, which meant she spent more time at Grienke’s making money. Now…“Peter, please, Keegan and I are getting married soon. We’re having a bay-baby,” she sobbed.

With that, Peter’s anger sparked. “That, my dear, can be taken care of!”

Peter didn’t want children. The “Mallory” who became his wife was meant to believe that her womb could bear no fruit. Mary Jane’s eyes popped open. She attempted to push her fingers through the rope around her neck.

What if I’m pregnant? With her memory slowly returning, she recalled the tiny pill Peter gave her every day.

Her eyes brightened to the dark of the night. She’d thrown up a few times after being abducted, but thought it was nerves. The way Mary Jane had suddenly decided she wanted pickles, and Wulf went searching high and low for them a few weeks back. All the mushy talk with Amy added up. Mary Jane tried to scream, but the confinement around her throat didn’t allow it. Slowly, a deep need to sleep took over.