Tiffany's soul hovered overhead.

She watched them rip her heart out—still dripping—and stuff it into a cooler. Destination? Velmont City, Dalvona. For the same girl who'd sold her to traffickers in Nyamara.

Outside the OR, Hector stood there, eyes all soft.

His assistant called. "Mr. Coxon, we've located Ms. Talwyn. Want me to send someone?"

Hector didn't blink. "Don't bother. A girl like that deserves to die."

The surgical light flipped green. A doctor strolled out. "Congrats, Mr. Coxon. Surgery went smooth. Ms. Pusey and the baby are doing great!"

Hector started crying happy tears.

This was the man she had loved for ten years.

Tiffany Talwyn's soul hovered overhead.

She watched them rip her heart out—still dripping—and stuff it into a cooler. Destination? Velmont City, Dalvona. For the same girl who'd sold her to traffickers in Nyamara.

Outside the OR, Hector Coxon stood there, eyes all soft.

Dave, his assistant, called. "Mr. Coxon, we've located Ms. Talwyn. Want me to send someone?"

Hector didn't blink. "Don't bother. A girl like that deserves to die."

The surgical light flipped green. A doctor strolled out. "Congrats, Mr. Coxon. Surgery went smooth. Ms. Pusey and the baby are doing great!"

Hector started crying happy tears.

Tiffany did too—except hers were blood tears.

She'd loved him. For ten years.

Now? She was gone. Cut open. Harvested. Dead. And somehow, it still freaking hurt.

Then this booming voice tore through the sky. A blast of gold light wrapped around her, hot and blinding.

She shut her eyes. 'Guess this is it. I'm really crossing over.'

***

Dark. So dark. Then—boom—light.

Something slammed around her throat like a noose.

"—Ugh!"

She choked, gasping. Her voice was wrecked. Eyes snapped open.

Hector.

"Charlotte made you dinner out of kindness. You smashed the plate and pushed her down the stairs! I should've left you to rot."

He slammed her into the wall. His shadow towered over her.

What the heck?

Wasn't I dead?

Her brain couldn't catch up. She couldn't breathe. His grip was crushing her windpipe.

"Hector, I... I'm sorry."

Panic hit hard. Her face turned red. Toes barely touched the ground. Her neck made this awful creak.

Tears slid hot down her cheeks.

Just when she thought he'd kill her, Hector let go.

She collapsed, coughing like she'd swallowed fire.

"Consider yourself lucky. Charlotte's in the hospital. If anything happens to her, this'll be your last breath."

He looked at the butler. "Esteban. Get the chain. She broke the rules. Lock her up. No one touches that door unless I say so."

Of course.

Every time she messed up, Hector had Esteban chain her in that basement.

No light. No air. Just wet, moldy rot.

She was claustrophobic—lost it every time. Screamed. Sobbed.

There was a camera in the corner. By day two, she'd be kneeling under it, slamming her head on the floor, begging.

And Hector? He'd be watching.

Only when he was satisfied—when he thought she'd learned her lesson—did he let her out. Like he was doing her a favor.

Today was no different.

They threw her in like trash.

Tiffany hit the cold, slimy floor and didn't move. Her neck throbbed.

She touched it, breathing slow.

Silence stretched.

Then her bitter laugh broke through the dark.

"I came back..."

Tiffany had lost count of the punishments—each one crueler than the last.

Took her a minute to even remember what set it off this time.

Rosalind Talwyn, her so-called foster mom, had called out of nowhere, whining for money. The same woman who ditched her ages ago to chase some random foreign guy. Now that he'd bailed, Rosalind came crawling back, full of drama, acting like the victim.

Tiffany was still arguing on the phone when Charlotte Pusey strolled in and caught the tail end.

Charlotte. Hector's long-lost first love.

She'd moved to Zweizerland with her parents back in high school and popped back up earlier this year.

The second she and Hector locked eyes, the sparks were back.

Charlotte hated Tiffany. She always had it out for her, sneaking around and stirring crap up.

Called her a curse. A nobody's kid. Said she was just like Rosalind—a gold-digging tramp who'd chase anything with a heartbeat.

Tiffany snapped. Shoved her.

Then just stood there, stunned, as Charlotte smirked... and threw herself down the stairs.

There were cameras in the hallway, but Hector didn't even look.

He never believed Tiffany.

Not that it mattered now.

Last time, she trusted him—and it cost her everything.

This time, she was done. Done with Hector. Done with Westvale. Done with the prison that had kept her trapped her whole life.

***

Drip. Drip.

Rain leaked in through the cracks, every drop echoing in the dark.

Tiffany jolted up, panic slamming into her like a truck. She couldn't breathe.

The claustrophobia was back.

Her body went ice cold. Sweat beaded on her forehead. Her hands wouldn't stop shaking.

Judging by how wrecked she felt, she'd been locked in here at least eight hours.

Her feet were chained. No way to stand.

So she crawled—inch by inch—toward the door.

"Open up! Hector, I'm sorry, please! Esteban! Hector! Somebody—please, open the door..."

She knew Hector was watching the monitor. Esteban was right outside.

She hated begging.

But the fear was too much.

It felt like a thousand spiked hands tearing through her, poisoning her blood, shredding her from the inside out.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Please let me go, Hector! I don't love you anymore—I swear I don't!"

She collapsed, sobbing—completely unhinged.

Then started slamming her head against the wall.

Harder. Louder.

The air reeked of blood—sharp, metallic, dizzying.

She thought this might be it.

Bang!

The door flew open. Hector stormed in and yanked her up by the hair.

"You got a death wish or what? Begging didn't work, so now you're trying to guilt-trip me?"

Blood streaked her face. Her head jerked back in his grip.

"I... didn't," she whispered, trembling all over. "Please, just let me out."

Hector sneered and shoved her aside.

Then kicked her chin up with his foot.

"Charlotte begged me to go easy on you. So fine—this time, I'll let it slide. But this is your last warning. Get those pathetic feelings for me outta your head. I will never love someone like you."

Tiffany had loved Hector.

He'd known since she was seventeen.

She was the third kid in the family. Deaf in one ear. She was then taken away by Rosalind—a prostitute—who saw her as retirement insurance.

Rosalind was always dragging in new guys. Every time, she'd lock little Tiffany in the tiny, damp kitchen. Sometimes for hours. Sometimes days.

That's where the claustrophobia began.

Later, Rosalind sank her claws into Hector's dad, Benjamin. After pushing Veronica—Hector's mom—out of the picture, she moved herself and twelve-year-old Tiffany into the Coxon Estate.

And just like that, Tiffany got a new shadow.

Hector, five years older, was fiery, and always treated her like his favorite chew toy.

When he was in a good mood, he'd buy her candy or take her to the amusement park.

When he wasn't—he'd shove her down the stairs, dunk her in the pool, or toss her outside in the dead of winter.

Once Tiffany grew into her looks, Hector started treating his "sister" a little too nicely.

And yeah—Tiffany caught feelings.

But two years ago, in the middle of the night, he pinned her to the bed—whispering Charlotte's name.

That's when it hit her.

She'd never been anything more than a stand-in.

***

Tiffany jolted awake.

White hospital ceiling. Blinding lights.

"You're awake."

Her whole body froze.

Charlotte was sitting right there beside the bed.

"What are you doing here?"

"You little tramp—always faking pain to seduce my man. You think I'd leave you here unsupervised?"

"You seriously have nothing better to do." Tiffany turned her head, done looking at her.

Silence.

Then Charlotte let out a soft laugh—and suddenly grabbed her hand.

Tiffany yanked back, startled.

Charlotte's eyes sparkled with fake tears. "I'm so sorry, Tiffany. I didn't know Hector locked you in the basement for me. I had no idea you'd get hurt that bad.

"You didn't mean to push me that day, right? I know you've got... issues. Probably just lost it for a sec. I don't blame you, really.

"It was Hector who went too far. But I talked to him—he won't do it again. Please forgive me, okay? I feel awful."

Tiffany couldn't take her two-faced act anymore.

She yanked her hand back. "Get off me. Don't touch me."

She barely touched her, but Charlotte went flying—screaming like she'd been punched—toppling to the floor with her chair.

"Tiffany, what are you doing?!"

Hector's voice, full of rage, exploded from the doorway.

He rushed in, scooped Charlotte into his arms, then spun and slapped Tiffany hard across the face.

"You've seriously lost it! Charlotte came here in good faith, trying to make peace, and you dare lay a hand on her?"

Blood filled Tiffany's mouth.

She clutched her swollen cheek, too stunned to speak.

Charlotte clung to Hector—limp, pitiful—whispering for him to calm down, even as her eyes gleamed with victory.

Tiffany knew she'd walked straight into her trap. Again.

A wave of helplessness crushed her.

One look at Hector's stormy face, and she didn't even bother explaining.

It all ended in silence.

Hector rushed Charlotte off to get checked out, terrified her little tumble had done real damage.

Tiffany just watched him go, the corner of her mouth curling into a bitter smile.

This was the guy she'd wasted her last life on—so obsessed, so blind, she'd thrown everything away for him.

That afternoon, she left the hospital alone.

Her college advisor had just dropped a notice in the student group: an overseas volunteer teaching gig in Zafaria. One year. Juniors and seniors only.

She needed this. Bad.