Lance always wakes up at 5 in the morning. I get out of bed one hour earlier. I want to be out of the house before he’s awake. I can’t let him see me in this state. My eyes are red and swollen from all the crying last night.

Just as I’m about to zip up my dress, Lance stirs and throws his arm above his head. I freeze and count to twenty. When I’m sure he’s asleep again, I grab my stuff and slip out of the room to finish getting dressed in one of the guest rooms.

Less than ten minutes later, I tiptoe down the carpeted stairs. I’m about to make it to the front door when I bump into Eva, who’s carrying a full basket of laundry.

“Good morning, Miss Jia.” She clasps her hands in front of her. “How are you today?”

From the bright expression on her face, I can’t tell if she notices my red, swollen eyes.

“Good morning, Eva.” I shift from one foot to the other, desperate to get going, but not wanting to seem impolite.

She dips her head to one side. “Can I make you some breakfast?”

“No, thank you.” I glance at my watch. Lance will be up soon. “I have to get going. Please tell Lance that I had to leave early. I have some urgent things to take care of. I’ll call him later.” I give her a small wave and walk away. “Enjoy your day, Eva.”

“You too, Miss Jia.”

I burst out the front door and descend the front steps way too fast, almost tripping on my high heels. Behind the wheel, I let out a sigh of relief and start the car.

At my apartment, I take a long, hot shower and cover up the dark bags under my eyes with concealer. I’m only able to handle an apple for breakfast, which I eat while sitting on the couch, staring at the front door.

Since I had the locks changed, no one has broken into my apartment, but I keep waiting for it to happen again.

At 10 a.m., I leave the apartment to go and meet Grace and Brooke at Unique Bridal.

When I come to a stop at the first traffic light, I switch my phone back on. As I had expected, loads of missed calls and voice messages spring out at me. My stomach churns with dread.

I don’t want to hear what he wants to say to me, but as terrifying as it is, I need to know what his plans are. I can’t bring myself to listen to his message again, so I read one of his many texts instead.

You’re playing a dangerous game, cupcake. Call me back or I’ll tell. K.

A bolt of pain hits me hard in the stomach, sending a wave of bile shooting up my throat. I toss the phone onto the passenger’s seat and grab a plastic bag with wedding fabric samples. The urge to vomit is so strong, I don’t get the chance to empty the bag. I puke into it until my stomach is empty. Done, I wipe my mouth with a tissue and throw it into the bag before twisting it closed.

Through the rush in my ears, I hear cars honking. The light has turned green, and they want me to move.

I roll my windows open to let out the sour smell of my vomit and put the other drivers out of their misery.

I glance a few times in the rearview mirror, expecting to find Kirk following me.

While I’m distracted by thoughts of Kirk, several cars honk at me again all at once. It takes a moment for me to figure out what’s going on. A shower of panic chills my spine at the sight of an oncoming truck headed straight for me. Teeth clenched and a scream stuck in my throat, I swerve at the last second before we collide. Distracted by my thoughts, I had veered into the wrong lane.

Shaken by the accident I almost caused, I pull up in front of a jewelry store and lean my head against the steering wheel. It’s a terrifying thought to be hit with the realization that life can change in an instant. Months ago, I was happy, fooled into trusting that fate has my back. Then just like that, the rug is yanked from underneath me. Now I feel as though I’m falling without a way to catch myself. Sooner or later, I will hit the ground. The question is, how hard?

I’m still panting as I lift my head and decide to do the only thing that makes me feel better when I’m stuck in a rut. I push the door open and get out of the car to get my running shoes from the trunk. I’m a runner. I’ve been running all my life, and maybe I always will be. Maybe I’ll never reach my destination.

I push my feet into the sneakers and start to run. The few people on the street move out of my way as I slice through the morning air, running as fast as I can on my way to nowhere. I run past shop owners putting up signs in front of their shops, preparing for the morning crowd. Everything is a blur as I breeze by, my feet pounding the pavement over and over again, the sound vibrating through my entire body. I can’t run away from the past, but I can run to find relief. All I care about is feeling better—being free again, even for a moment.

Even as I run, I feel his presence, watching me from a distance.

I run until my lungs are on fire, and my legs beg me to stop. When I get to the point where I can no longer push myself, I push even harder. I keep going until my head starts to swim.

I halt in front of an out-of-business bakery and collapse against the dirty display window. My body refuses to move an inch more until it recovers. I slide down the glass to a sitting position and rest my head on my knees. I stay for a while until my breath returns to normal. Then I get back to my car.

Before I get back behind the wheel, I throw away the bag of vomit. I’m about to drive off when my phone rings.

It’s Lance.

“Hey, sweetheart.” I shut my eyes and hold my breath.

“Morning, babe, why didn’t you stay for breakfast?”

“I’m sorry.” It’s a struggle to keep my voice from shaking. “I had some things I need to do before meeting Grace and Brooke at the bridal store. I didn’t want to wake you.”

“What’s more important than having breakfast with your future husband and kid on a beautiful Saturday morning?”

A smile sneaks up on my face. It’s soon followed by tears springing to my eyes. “I don’t want to bother you with the details. But I’ll see you later. We could have lunch together. Unless you’re busy?”

“Nothing I can’t postpone to make time for you.”

“Great.” Guilt twists my gut. “I’ll see you then.”

As soon as I end the call, my phone rings again. This time it’s Kirk. I have no choice but to talk to him unless I want him to tell everyone the truth. Before I lose my nerve, I answer.

“What do you want from me?”

He chuckles. “Is that how you greet the love of your life?”

“You’re not the love of my life.” My body locks up with rage.

“I’m disappointed to hear that, cupcake. Seeing you again was the only thing that kept me sane behind bars.”

“Kirk, you mean nothing to me. Leave me alone.” The only thing I’m interested in is his disappearance from my life. I want him gone before he causes any damage to the people I love and me.

“I’m not going anywhere without you. You belong to me.”

“I belong to no one.” I wrap a hand around my throat, finding it hard to breathe. “I’ve started a new life, and you’re not a part of it.”

“You think changing your name will change who you really are? You will always be Alana Johnston to me—my little cupcake.”

My gaze darts around me. I’m suddenly afraid that somebody might be listening even though I’m alone. “I don’t know who that person is,” I whisper. “Go to hell.” I hang up before he has a chance to say anything more.

I squeeze my eyes shut. I’m holding on tight to the phone, listening to it ringing over and over again, but I refuse to let him back in.

A pinging sound alerts me that I have a text message. I read it through the mist in my eyes.

How much would you pay for me to go away? K.

I toss the phone onto the passenger’s seat and push the heel of my hand against my sweaty forehead. How dare he blackmail me? I’m tempted to call him back, to give him a piece of my mind, but that would only make matters worse. He holds all the cards.

As I run his words through my mind a few more times, it hits me that he has actually given me a way out. I only have two choices. Either he blows my cover, or I give him money to get the hell out of my life. If I decide not to pay him off, I might end up paying an even higher price.

I do a quick calculation in my head and pick up the phone. I type in the first figure that comes to mind.

Five thousand dollars.

He writes back immediately.

What I know is worth much more than that and you know it.

I only have $10,000 in my savings account, and I’m hesitant to give it all to him, but what’s the price of not doing so?

I take a breath and write back.

That’s all I have. Take it or leave it.

It takes him ten whole minutes to respond. I can barely breathe as I read what he has to say.

Don’t fuck with me, cupcake. $30,000 or you can say goodbye to your tidy little life.

A sudden coldness hits me at the core. Where the hell will I get $30,000? Even though I’m about to marry Lance, a billionaire, I never feel comfortable asking him for money.

I’m chewing my nails, wondering what to do, when an idea hits me. There’s only one way for me to get the money. I take a few deep breaths and respond.

I’ll pay it. Then I want you out of my life.