PROLOGUE
How wouldI sleep at night if I killed him right now?
Peacefully, I think.
I would only regret I didn’t do it sooner.
The pristine marble floor and the clean, white cupboard doors go in and out of focus. Tears trickle from the corners of my eyes, twining with the crimson trickle of blood leaking from the gash on my forehead, blazing a path onto the cold floor. If I move, he might kick me again.
It’s my fault.
I should have known better than to bring my emotions home.
Tommy is particular. He has certain expectations of his fiancée, and being upset over the third anniversary of my father’s death isn’t one of them. I should have been dolled up, head bowed, with dinner served on the table the moment he stepped through the imposing wooden door.
I should have done better.
The pain in my side is a faint ache, the bruise along my cheek a distant thought.
All I wanted was to visit the beach where I had spread his ashes, then spend the rest of the day wallowing and choking on my grief over the man who raised me.
I was foolish. I should have seen this punishment coming.
I should haveknownbetter.
If I had known the type of person Tommy really was, or what the Gallaghers were up to in the dark of night, I would’ve never applied for the job at his family’s tech company. I wouldn’t have fallen for his charming smile, nor would I have said “yes” when he pulled out a huge diamond ring, asking me—without words—to be his indentured servant. I wish I had seen through the fancy dresses and jewelry he showered me with, all the times he convinced me to stay home with him instead of seeing my friends or my dad.
I should have run the second I laid eyes on him four years ago.
But here I am, regretting every move I made since I met him.
I’m so tired.
“Get the fuck up.” A hand wraps around my arm, yanking me to my feet and adding another bruise to his battered canvas.
He shoves me back, and the corner of the kitchen counter hits the small of my back, sending a piercing jolt up my spine. My hand flies out to support myself against the marble. My wrist brace lands in a pool of water, soaking through the thick fabric as I slide along the counter, fingers grazing the edge of the chopping board I was using when Tommy came barreling in.
I’m not a fan of what I was making. If he didn’t enjoy eating my country’s cuisine, I wasn’t allowed to make it. But he likes tonight’s meal, and what he likes, I like.
And I like… I don’t know what I enjoy anymore.
If Dad were here, he’d stand up for me.
The thought lodges a boulder in my throat. I force myself to suppress a sob so I don’t anger Tommy more. Why didn’t I listen when Dad warned me this man meant trouble? It was the only thing we ever argued about.I wish I could apologize to him now. Dad was the only person I had, and I fought him tooth andnail under the misguided pretense that Tommy wasdifferent—special. A man of his word, someone who loved me. I fell for his façade.
Nothing is worth the heated floors, indoor swimming pool, or stupid fucking six-car garage filled with vehicles I’m not allowed to touch.
“Do you think I want to come home to find you looking like shit? Huh?”
I keep my gaze averted. Meeting his eyes never bodes well, at least not anymore.
Silent tears stream down my face as a glint catches my eye, and I try to ignore the light reflecting off the silver blade just inches away from my fingers.
I thought if I did the steakjustright, my mood would be forgiven. If the roasted sweet potatoes, broccoli, and carrots were seasonedjust right, my appearance would be quickly forgotten.
But again, I knew better.
I’m so sorry for disappointing you, Dad.
