Three years later

“Please talk to me,” Ava pleaded through the phone I had resting between my shoulder and ear. “I’m worried about you, babe. You haven’t been yourself lately.”

She had every right to worry. She wasn’t wrong, I hadn’t been acting like myself. That was mainly because I was no longer the person I once was. Daniel had seen to that.

In the three years we’d been married, he’d managed to beat me down—verbally and mentally—so badly that I barely recognized the woman staring back at me in the mirror most mornings. I was a shell of my former self, a sad, pathetic girl walking through each day like a ghost. I went through the motions because it was expected of me, but that was all I had the energy to do. I closed myself off from friends and family because I didn’t want to deal with the hassle of their questions and concerns. And I hated myself for how weak I’d become.

Daniel never hit me, I’d give him that. But how he treated me was just as bad, if not worse in some ways.

What started as behavior I could easily make excuses for quickly turned into something unimaginable. And it all began with the fall of the illustrious Logan dynasty.

I’d been right in thinking that whatever was happening was so much worse than I’d imagined. Turned out, his father didn’t just make a few bad investments—he’d lost his clients hundreds of thousands. There were people who lost their pensions, their retirement, the entirety of their savings. He’d left countless people on the brink of destitution, himself and his family included. He managed to get out of serious jail time only by the skin of his teeth, but the government had seized everything. Homes, cars, bank accounts—you name it, it was gone. The board overthrew the elder Logan and quickly fired everyone with his namesake. That meant Golden Boy Daniel had fallen from grace right along with dear old dad.

He and his family had become pariahs, and because of that, he hadn’t been able to secure a job for the past two years. Not that he put much of an effort into it. Despite his father being—in my mind—a disgusting, heartless criminal, he refused to let his family name hold any of the responsibility. As far as he was concerned, he was the victim. The world was out to get him, and every day was a pity party. We were drowning in debt thanks to Daniel’s inability to accept his new social standing. He wanted to continue living the caviar lifestyle while we were barely scraping by on a canned tuna budget.

I was our sole source of income, and on my meager salary as an administrative assistant, I couldn’t keep my husband in the flash and pomp he felt he deserved. According to him, it was my fault.

My fault for getting a liberal arts degree instead of something that would be more appealing in the workforce.

My fault for not trying harder to get a promotion within my company.

My fault for not getting home in time to make him dinner and do the laundry, even though it was because I’d been working overtime to make some extra money.

Everything was my fault, my fault, my fault.

I didn’t keep a clean enough house.

I didn’t know how to iron his slacks properly.

I didn’t know how to cook for shit.

I was stupid, worthless, a waste of oxygen. If it wasn’t my intellect or my homemaking skills he was insulting, he was jumping down my throat about stuff that didn’t even exist. He had himself convinced that I was cheating, that I was still in love with Mace, even though I’d given him no reason whatsoever to think either of those things was true. But according to him I was, and that was why I still listened to his music or watched him on TV. Never mind that it happened only if the radio station I was already listening to played one of their songs unbeknownst to me, or the TV was already tuned to the channel where the band popped up. In his mind, it wasn’t a coincidence.

If it wasn’t Mace it was any man I offered a polite smile or nod to.

And I’d taken every single blow he landed until it began to seep into my skin and poison me. I hadn’t said a single word to anyone, always putting on a mask for my friends and loved ones on the rare occasions I saw them so they wouldn’t know just how badly I fucked up. I’d let him become my world. My twisted, sickening world. The knowledge that I’d settled for less than best, less than I deserved, sat in my stomach until it soured and spoiled, leaving me in a constant state of nausea.

But I was done. Done being his punching bag, his doormat. I was just done.

“I’ll be okay, Ava,” I finally answered after a long, thoughtful pause. And I would. Because I was getting the fuck out. He could keep the house and all the furniture. Hell, I didn’t even care if the debt he’d laid at my feet followed me around for the rest of my life. I’d gladly take that over being in a poisonous, loveless marriage for one more second.

“You wanna tell me what’s going on? Because I’m not sure I believe you, Ly. Not with how you’ve been acting lately.”

I felt like the very worst kind of person. I couldn’t believe I’d allowed Daniel to destroy my self-esteem so thoroughly. “I know I’ve been a pretty shitty friend, and I’m so sorry for that. I swear I’ll make it up to you. I made a huge mistake, but I’m fixing it, I promise.”

“And this mistake… it wouldn’t have anything to do with Daniel, would it?”

At her question, I stopped what I was doing—which just so happened to be packing up my shit in order to get the hell out of there—and froze solid. “What makes you ask that?”

“Because I’m not naive,” she replied sharply. “It isn’t lost on me that all the changes in you started after you got married, and it’s also not lost on me that you’re not the only one who’s changed. After all that shit went down with his parents, he turned into a raging asshole.”

“If you knew, then why didn’t you say anything?” I squeaked, stunned that I’d been so transparent in spite of all the effort I put into hiding the ugly truth.

“Because you always tried so hard to pretend everything was okay. It was obvious you didn’t want us to know. Then you started spending less time with everyone, until it eventually stopped altogether. I have to tell you, honey, I’ve been worried sick for a long time now.”

“Please don’t worry,” I whispered in a voice thick with tears. “I’m fixing it. I’m….” I paused long enough to swallow the lump of emotion clogging my throat. “I’m leaving. I was actually packing when you called. I’ve had enough, and I’m getting out.”

She sounded hesitantly optimistic when she asked, “And you’re okay with that?”

“I’m more okay than I’ve been in a very long time now that I’ve made a decision.”

“Good.” She let out a breath of stark relief. “If you’re okay, then I’m okay. And I’ll have your back no matter what, yeah? You need me for anything at all, night or day, you just call me. Got it?”

“I got it,” I answered, smiling my first real smile all day. “But I have to go. Dan went to his favorite watering hole to get lit, and I want to be out of here before he gets back.”

“Want me to come over and help you pack?”

I had the best friends in the world, and I was so damn grateful that I hadn’t lost them by letting my weakness and stupidity get the best of me. “I got it. But I’ll call you once I’m on the road, deal?”

“Sounds good. Love you, babe.”

“Love you back.”

With that, I disconnected the call and went back to packing. I’d gotten most of my clothes and shoes and was working on my toiletries when I heard the front door open and close with Daniel’s arrival. My belly flipped uncomfortably, and my heart rate increased at the knowledge of being caught, but I didn’t let it stop me. I could handle one last fight if it meant being done with all his bullshit when it was over.

I wasn’t discouraged from my mission as his fumbled footsteps echoed down the hall toward our bedroom.

Stuffing the last of my makeup and hair products into the bag, I moved back to the bedroom and tossed it in one of my two stuffed-to-the-max suitcases. I was just zipping up the last one when his large frame cast a shadow over me from the doorway.

I had to hand it to him—for a worthless drunk, he’d managed to keep fit over the years thanks to the gym account he refused to cancel no matter how many times I asked him to. If he wasn’t at the bar drinking, or forming a permanent indent in the chair in our living room, he was at the gym. He claimed working out relieved stress. I thought he was full of shit and actually went there scouting for a mistress, but damn if I cared.

“The fuck you think you’re doin’?” he slurred. I could smell the bourbon leaching from his pores from five feet away, and it did nothing but infuriate me more.

“What’s it look like I’m doing?” I returned in a snarky tone. “I’m packing. I’m done with this shit.”

“You’re leaving me?” he snapped bitterly, then repeated, “You’re leaving me? Is that a fuckin’ joke?”

Yanking the zipper shut the rest of the way, I spun around to face him and crossed my arms. “No, it’s not a joke. And yes, I’m leaving you. This marriage is toxic, and I’m done, Daniel.”

He pushed off the doorjamb and lurched closer, teetering dangerously in his drunken state. “You stupid bitch. You’re goin’ to him, aren’t you?”

“To who?” I shouted, throwing my arms wide. “Who the hell is it you think I’m going to? Mace? For Christ’s sake, Dan! I told you there’s nothing happening. I haven’t talked to him in five fucking years. Get over it!”

“Get over it? Get over it? You fuckin’ slut! I know you’re cheating, and now you think you can leave me? You aren’t leaving me, bitch. No goddamn way in hell.”

That churning in my gut that told me something was wrong grew more intense. I went from angry to frightened the louder and brasher he got. Instinct told me I needed to get the hell out of there before the situation escalated more than it already had.

“This conversation’s done.” I grabbed the handles of the suitcases and pulled them off the bed. “I’m leaving and there’s nothing you can do to stop me,” I informed him once I reached the door. “Now get out of the way.”

A sinister smile spread across his face, making my blood run cold. “Nothing I can do, huh? We’ll see about that.”

With that, his arm swung wide, his palm connecting with my cheek so hard I saw stars. Dropping my bags, the impact of the hit caused me to stumble sideways, my arms coming up to protect my face from another strike.

“You’re really stupid enough to think I won’t stop you?” He landed a punch to my stomach so hard all the air expelled from my lungs. I hit my knees with a jarring thud, the course fibers of carpet burning across the skin of my palms as I struggled to pull in a breath. “That I can’t make you stay?” he asked, kicking me in the ribs.

I struggled to pull myself across the floor but I wasn’t quick enough. Tangling his hand in my hair, he yanked me up and punched me right in the face. It felt like a firework exploded in my nose as blood poured down my throat, and the sickening crunch and searing pain alerted me to the fact that he’d just broken it.

“Please,” I cried and whimpered, holding up a hand to ward him off.

“Oh, now you’re gonna beg?” He let out a bone-chilling laugh as he threw me to the floor, finally releasing my hair. “You dumb, worthless cow. Don’t know why the fuck I spent so much time on you. That dry, boring pussy wasn’t worth the trouble.”

I don’t know how long I laid there crying out as he tormented me with his words and brutal strength, but with each blow the edges of my vision grew darker and darker.

Eventually the hits and kicks stopped. I thought he might’ve turned to leave, but I’d been wrong. He wasn’t quite finished yet. Lifting his leg, he brought his loafer-clad foot down on my hand, and I screamed at the top of my lungs as the bones broke and snapped. Then everything went black as the pain became too much for me to bear.