My legs moved before my mind could catch up.

I ran through rain and traffic, the city smearing itself against my face. Cars honked. My hair clung to my skin, my clothes stuck with sweat and rain.

When I reached the hospital room… I pushed open the door.

There he was. Clyde. My little boy, small and folded into the bed. His hands were wrapped in heavy bandages. He looked like my son, the boy who used to laugh at piano keys, and at the same time he looked like a stranger who had been carved out of pain.

I collapsed on him. My tears soaked into his hair. “Clyde,” I whispered over and over. “Mama’s here. Mama’s here, baby.” Everything in me that had turned to iron melted against his skin.

The door creaked and a doctor walked in.

“Your son’s hands suffered severe damage. We did everything we could. With modern surgery, with years of therapy, there is hope. Function can return.”

“C-can he stil play piano? Piano was his love...”

“He might play piano again someday. But not soon.”

I nodded and pressed my hand over my mouth I cried without sound. The piano contests we had circled on calendars burned in my head. Recitals. Dreams. All those bright little futures bleeding into something uncertain and cruel.

The door opened again and this time it was not gentle. A man walked in, tall, smiling like he knew the weight of his own danger and two hulking men shadowed him.

“Savannah,” he said, as if we were old friends meeting at a bar. “I am Troy. Troy Lambert. Rafael's right hand. He sent me.”

The doctor ducked out of the room so fast it was almost comical.

Troy leaned on the bed rail, “Rafael handled the kidnappers for you. Would you like to see their bodies?”

My stomach lurched. “No,” I whispered. “No, I don’t want to see anything.”

He chuckled. “Pity. It was quite the art. Rafael ordered them killed and dismembered. They will never trouble you again.” He tilted his head, studying me like a cat watching a bird. “Do you want to know who hired them?”

Clyde stirred, a soft whimper leaving his lips. My arms tightened around him. I pressed his face to my chest and refused to look at Troy. “I don’t want to know. I only want him safe.”

Troy’s smile curved sharper. “As you wish. Rafael is coming to Europe. You have one week to signed your divorce papers. After that week, he will personally collect you.”

My throat shook. “Thank you,” I whispered, because gratitude was all I had.

Troy’s eyes darkened with amusement, and he leaned close, “Do not thank me, little dove. Rafael will not accept thanks. He will accept you. He will accept your body and your soul. That is the only payment he wants.”

He straightened, winked as if this was all a game, and left with his men trailing behind him like shadows.

The room seemed smaller after they were gone. Darker. Clyde shifted in my arms and began to cry. I held him tighter, rocking him, whispering, and the night pressed in like the walls were closing.

***

I didn’t notice the hours and fell asleep until my phone buzzed in the dark. Clyde’s bandaged little hands were resting on my chest. For a second I thought it was just a dream. Then I saw the screen flashing. Clinton.

My thumb shook as I answered. His voice roared down the line like fire. “Where the hell are you?! Why are you not home? You think you can run away and embarrass me? You dare disappear like this?”

I stared at Clyde’s fragile face, the way his lashes curled against his cheeks, the way his body looked too small beneath the white sheets. Without a word I ended the call. My finger pressed down, powering the phone off. The silence that followed was heavy, but it felt like rebellion. For once I chose quiet over his rage.

By sunrise my body was aching from the narrow bed, my clothes stiff with dried rain and sweat. I smelled of fear and hospital walls. Clyde stirred, and I smoothed his hair, forcing a smile. “Mama will be right back. I’ll get us clean clothes, okay? Then I’ll look pretty again for you.”

I slipped into the hallway. The moment I stepped out, the world spun. Medics rushed past me, wheels squealing, pushing a gurney. On it lay Tyler—pale, clutching his stomach, his cries sharp and piercing. Astrid was clinging to his side, her voice shrill as she screamed for doctors. Clinton stormed behind them, face twisted in panic, barking orders at everyone in sight.

His eyes locked on me.

He broke away from the gurney and grabbed my arm so hard I thought the bone would snap.

“Savannah!” His hand flew before I could breathe. The slap cracked across my cheek, hot and blinding.

“How dare you,” His grip dug deeper into my flesh. “You ordered a maid to poison Tyler’s food last night. Did you really think you could kill my son and get away with it? You pathetic bitch.”

My face burned. My chest burned worse. I swallowed the scream pressing against my throat. No words came out because I knew it would not matter. Clinton had already chosen his truth. He would never believe me.

Tyler’s groans grew louder. “Daddy… Daddy!”

Clinton ripped himself away from me, running after the gurney, chasing the boy he worshipped. His parting words cut me open. “We will talk after this.”

Astrid passed close behind, her perfume choking the air. Her lips curved in the faintest smile. Calm. Smug. That was all the proof I needed. She had orchestrated this. She had poisoned Tyler and pinned it on me.

I bit down hard and swallowed the sob clawing its way up my chest. I walked on, stiff, refusing to break in front of her. I bought clean clothes from a shop down the street, my hands shaking as I folded them into a bag. Then I came back, focused only on reaching Clyde.

At the elevator I pressed the button, willing it to open. The doors slid apart with a soft chime. Relief rushed in my chest until a figure stepped forward, blocking my way.

Astrid.

She leaned against the doorway, her perfume heavy and sweet like poison. “How’s your little Clyde? Is he dead now?” She tilted her head, “I ordered those thugs to smash his tiny fingers. That way my son could steal the piano’s spotlight. And when they were finished, I told them to dump your little boy body on the street like trash.”

“How dare you!”

The words ripped out of me before I even realized, my palm already cracking across Astrid’s painted cheek.

She shrieked instantly, stumbling back like I had broken her fragile bones, clutching her face, wailing like some porcelain doll that had been chipped. Her act was flawless, practiced, perfected.

Gasps filled the air. Whispers spread like fire.

“Did you see that?”

“Poor Astrid.”

“Savannah has gone mad.”

“Isn’t that Mr. Clinton’s wife? Why is she hurting Miss Astrid?”

I could feel all their eyes on me, cutting into my skin, but I didn’t care. Not anymore.

“You think I don’t see you?” I shouted at her, my voice hoarse, trembling with years of swallowed pain. “You slithered into my house, whispered poison into Clinton’s ears, made him turn his back on me. You ruined my family and now... You tried to kill my son!” My throat burned as the words poured out. “You think you can smile and hide behind your tears, but I know exactly what you are. A scheming, manipulative snake!”

Astrid sobbed harder, shaking her head like some wronged saint. Her tears made the crowd soften to her, but I knew better.

Then Clinton’s voice thundered behind me. “Savannah!”

I turned just in time to see his hand raise. The slap came fast, brutal, knocking me off my feet.

He loomed over me, “After poisoning my son, you dare lay your filthy hands on my first love? If it wasn’t for that cursed arranged marriage, Astrid would have been my wife!”

The crowd gasped louder. I heard them whisper again, their voices twisting the knife deeper.

“She really is unstable.”

“No wonder Mr. Clinton never loved her.”

“I heard their son isn’t even his. She cheated.”

Astrid’s soft sobbing made her look even more innocent, fragile, cherished. And I was the monster. Always the monster.

Tears blurred my vision but I forced my voice out. “Then divorce me! I’m done with this farce of a marriage. I don’t want to be your wife anymore!”

Clinton laughed coldly, “What a desperate psycho you are. First, you fake a kidnapping just to get my attention. And now you stage another pathetic scene? You should win an award for acting, Savannah.”

He reached into his jacket and pulled out papers, tossing them at me like trash. They scattered at my feet. “Here. Isn’t this what you want?”

I bent down, my hands trembling, when I reached for them. But before I could gather the papers, he bent down too, snatching them back with a cruel smirk.

“Did you really think I’d make it that easy?” His voice dripped with venom. “You’ll serve me for another week before I sign this. Until then, you’re mine.”

He waved the papers in the air, like a leash I couldn’t escape. Then he turned, wrapping an arm around Astrid’s shoulders, leading her away like she was the cherished wife and I was just dirt under his shoes.

The crowd’s stares stayed on me, disgusted, condemning. My hands shook as I forced myself to stand, my legs weak, my heart crushed under their judgment.

I turned and walked, dragging my body down the hall until I reached my son’s room. I closed the door behind me, pressing my forehead against the wood, shaking, crying so hard my chest hurt.

I whispered through the sobs, a promise that tasted like blood. “Well then, Clinton. By a week, I’m no longer tied to you.”

***

After three days in the hospital, I finally brought Clyde home. He was still pale, still weak, but at least he was alive. If it was up to me, I would never step foot in that house again. But I had no choice. I needed my mother’s heirloom, some of Clyde’s things, and a few of my own.

I pushed the door open, and my breath caught in my throat. Astrid. She was standing in the middle of the living room like a queen, her son Tyler sprawled on the couch, laughing like he owned the place.

Clyde’s small voice trembled beside me. “Mama… why is Tyler here?”

Before I could answer, Tyler looked up, smug smirk spreading across his face. “Because this is my house now. I’m the real son. You’re just a bastard.”

Clyde flinched, his hand tightening around mine. The heat rose in my chest, and I almost snapped right then, ready to rip that arrogance out of his mouth. But Astrid’s lips curled, her voice smooth as poison. “Tyler, go to your room.”

He grinned, satisfied, and strolled up the stairs like a little prince.

The maids passed by, their eyes flickering away from mine. I heard their whispers, sharp as knives. “Mr. Clinton ordered everything moved… Madam Savannah’s things are in the maid’s quarters now.”

I swallowed hard, forcing the tears back. Astrid pressed her hand to her chest, pretending to look embarrassed. “Oh, Savannah… Clinton said I should stay here with Tyler. He’s tired of hiding our relationship. I didn’t know they would move your things. Please don’t misunderstand me.”

Her voice was honey, but her eyes laughed at me.

I bit down on my rage for Clyde’s sake. I took his hand and walked to the maid’s quarters.

Inside the tiny room, Clyde finally broke, his tears soaking my sleeve.

“Mama, why is Papa treating us like strangers?”

I held him close, rocking him against my chest. “Don’t cry, baby. One day soon, we’ll leave this place. And you’ll never need to bow your head again.”

**

That night, the villa was lit up, music spilling from the dining hall. A dinner for Clinton’s business partners. I was forced to sit far down the table, like an uninvited guest in my own home.

Astrid sat at Clinton’s side, her hand brushing his arm like she was already his wife. She smiled so sweetly, so gently, and the men at the table admired her like she was some goddess.

One of them glanced at me. “And who is she?”

Clinton smirked, swirling his glass. “She’s just here for formalities. My real woman has always been Astrid. And this boy, Tyler, is my true heir.”

Tyler stood with confidence, walking to the piano. His fingers flew across the keys, filling the room with polished notes. Everyone clapped in admiration.

Beside me, Clyde’s eyes filled with tears, staring down at his ruined hands. His little fingers trembled as if remembering the pain.

Astrid tilted her head, her voice dripping with false pity. “Poor little Clyde. Can’t play the piano now? What a shame. It’s your mama’s fault—”

The fork in my hand clattered to the plate as I stood, “Don’t you dare poison my child’s mind. It was you who ruined his hands. You hired those thugs just to steal his spotlight for your son!”

Gasps spread around the table. Astrid’s lips trembled as tears spilled down her cheeks. She reached for Clinton, her voice weak, broken. “Savannah, why are you bullying me in front of Clinton and his business partners? What have I ever done to you to deserve this?”

Clinton’s chair screeched back, his eyes blazing as he rose to his feet.

Clinton’s chair slammed back and his roar shook the whole table. “How dare you shame Astrid in front of my partners!”

Before I could even breathe, his hand tangled in my hair and yanked hard. Pain burned across my scalp as he dragged me down, forcing me to kneel on the cold marble floor beside him.

Clyde’s cry tore through the room. “Papa, stop! Don’t hurt Mama!”

Clinton’s head snapped toward him, his voice low and cruel. “Shut up, boy. If you don’t stop crying, I’ll feed you to the snakes.”

My heart stopped. Clyde’s face went white, his little body shaking as he clung to my side. He had always been terrified of snakes, ever since Tyler shoved that python into his schoolbag and it bit his arm. I remembered the blood, the screams, and Clinton just shrugging, saying Clyde was being a pussy. He never protected him. Never.

Now Clyde buried his face against me, trembling so bad it broke me into pieces.

Around us, Clinton’s business partners shifted uncomfortably at first, then one of them chuckled. Another followed, and soon the whole table was laughing, throwing cruel jokes like knives. “The jealous wife doesn’t know her place.”

“Clinton, you should train her better.”

Astrid hid behind Clinton’s arm, clutching his sleeve, her voice soft and broken like a delicate flower. “Please, don’t hurt her too much. It’s my fault… she’s just jealous.” Her fake mercy only poured fuel on his rage.

His hand cracked across my face again. My cheek burned, my ears rang. “Apologize to Astrid right now!”

I shook my head, my lips trembling. “I didn’t—”

“Do it, Savannah!” he thundered. “Or your son loses everything. No more doctors. No school. No food. Let him rot with you in the streets.”

I froze. Tyler was still at the piano, smirking just like his mother, pounding the keys like victory drums. The maids bowed their heads, pity soft in their eyes, but not one of them dared to move.

I felt Clyde shaking beside me. For him… only for him… I lowered myself fully to the floor. Tears slipped down my cheeks as I whispered, “I’m sorry, Astrid.”

The men erupted with laughter and clinked their glasses. One of them smirked. “At least she’s obedient.”

Astrid wiped her fake tears, walking over with that sweet smile. She patted my head like I was nothing but a stray dog. “It’s alright, Savannah is just sick from jealousy. I’ll forgive her.”

The men praised her like she was a saint, their words cutting into me.

“Such kindness.”

“What a forgiving woman.”

Clyde’s small voice cracked through the noise. “Don’t talk to my mama like that! She’s not sick!”

Clinton’s face turned black with fury. He snapped his fingers. “Take that bastard out of here before he embarrasses me further.”

The maids hesitated, then gently pulled Clyde from my arms. He screamed, clawing at me, but they dragged him out while I sat on the floor, my body shaking, my heart bleeding out.

Clinton raised his glass proudly. “This is why discipline keeps women in their place.”

The men laughed, one leaning back and sneering. “Lock her in the basement until she learns some manners.”

Clinton smirked. “Maybe I should.”

I stayed silent, trembling, swallowing my screams. If I spoke again, it would only be worse.

When the guests finally left, the villa grew quiet. My cheek still burned, my hair still tangled from his grip. I walked through the hallway, and there Astrid cornered me, her perfume choking me.

She leaned in, her whisper sharp as knives. “Did you see how they all laughed at you? Even Clinton doesn’t see you as a wife anymore. Soon, you’ll be nothing but a maid. Or maybe he’ll throw you and your bastard out into the streets.”

Her eyes glinted as she smiled. “Tyler will replace Clyde in everything. Music. Legacy. Even love.”

I couldn’t answer. My throat was raw, my heart ripped apart.

That night, back in the cramped maid’s quarters, I lay beside Clyde. His breathing was uneven, his little fists clenched even in sleep.

I pressed my hand over my mouth and cried silently, choking on every sob. But somewhere deep inside, something shifted. A seed of fire. Clinton would never protect me. Astrid would never stop until Clyde was destroyed.

In the dark, I whispered to myself, “One day… I’ll make them regret everything.”

Then my phone lit up on the table. The name flashed across the screen. Rafael Ambramov.

“Hello?”

His voice came low and cold, steady like steel. “Seven days are almost over, Savannah. Get ready. I am coming to Europe to collect what’s mine.”