Chapter 1

The day I miscarried, Zion Gilbert was skiing in Hokkaido with Amy Swanson. He even posed for her transition video, grinning into the camera like a man without a care in the world before posting it to his Moments.

My mother-in-law caught the bitterness on my face. She pressed a bowl of soup into my hands, her voice flat. Empty.

"Don't be jealous of Amy. You were the one who took her place to begin with."

I accepted the bowl, head bowed. "Mom, I know."

She turned to leave, but the words clawed their way out before I could stop them. "Mom, about Zion and me..."

She paused. The look she threw over her shoulder could have frozen fire.

"Don't forget how you got here. You will never be able to repay what the Gilbert family has given you. Not in this lifetime."

My gaze dropped to the floor. "I understand."

That night, Zion brought Amy home. He shook me awake from an exhausted, dreamless sleep and jerked his chin toward the door.

"Get out. Don't ruin the mood."

I was already halfway across the room when his voice cracked like a whip.

"Wait at the door. If we need anything, we'll call."

"Okay."

I leaned against the doorframe in the hallway, close enough to hear everything.

Amy's voice floated out first—sugary, coquettish. "She's so well-trained. Like a little dog."

Zion scoffed. "She's worse than a dog. A dog would run away. I gave her everything she has." A pause. The creak of bedsprings. "Where would she even go?"

A faint smile tugged at my lips.

He'd forgotten one crucial detail.

The five-year term was up.

I was free.

1.

"Mia Henson, get the hell in here."

Two hours later, silence finally fell. I rubbed my thighs—numb from standing—and pushed open the bedroom door.

*Slap.*

Dirty boxers hit me square in the face.

"Wash them." Zion didn't bother looking up. "And get Amy a fresh set of clothes. We have a cocktail party." His lip curled. "Nothing you've worn. It's filthy."

I peeled the underwear off my face. My expression didn't change.

"Understood."

I moved through the room like a machine. Stained sheets. Used tissues. Condoms scattered across the hardwood. Clothes torn open in a frenzy, shirt buttons popped off and rolled into corners.

Amy lounged on the sofa, wrapped in nothing but Zion's bathrobe. She let out a soft, mocking laugh.

"She really is obedient. Doesn't even get angry." A theatrical sigh. "My servants aren't half this docile."

Zion lit a cigarette. Smoke curled around his sharp features as he crossed to her, tilting her chin up with one finger.

"You know how it is. I'm her savior. Without me, she'd be raising pigs in some mountain ravine. I feed her, clothe her, gave her the title of Mrs. Gilbert." He exhaled a plume of smoke toward the ceiling. "She should be bowing to me three times a day. You think she has the right to feel wronged?"

His leg swung out without warning.

The kick connected hard with my hip.

"Right, Mia?"

It wasn't light. Weakened by the miscarriage, exhausted from hours on my feet, I lost my balance. My knees cracked against the hardwood.

Zion blinked—he hadn't expected me to fall. But no pity flickered in his eyes.

He kicked again.

Harder.

I sprawled onto my back like a discarded ragdoll.

His voice dropped, dripping venom. "Useless trash. What good are you? Can't even do a simple job properly?"

I didn't retort. I crawled to my knees. Bowed my head.

"I'm sorry, husband. It won't happen again."

My submission was so absolute it bored him. Zion lost interest, scooping Amy into his arms and carrying her toward the pool.

"Ugh, you're so annoying—you just won't stop." Amy's whine was playful. "I'm still sore!"

"Isn't that exactly what you like? You hate it when I'm gentle."

"You really are my nemesis..."

Their voices faded down the hall.

I said nothing. My hands continued tidying the room with practiced efficiency.

But hidden from view, my nails dug into my palms until the skin split.