No amount of hot water could chase away the chill seeping through my bones. When I finally stepped out of the shower, skin still damp, I went straight to the small desk tucked behind my closet. From the hidden drawer, I pulled out a folder — crisp, freshly printed divorce papers, the scent of ink still clinging to the pages.

Downstairs, music pulsed through the mansion — loud, pretentious, expensive. Rafael’s favorite kind of spectacle. Laughter bubbled around clinking glasses and slurred gossip shared behind glossy lips and polished smiles. I’d walked through these parties for years, unseen, a ghost in my own home.

Clutching the folder to my chest, I slipped into the crowd. Perfume, liquor, and fake laughter clouded the air. I found Rafael by the bar, already several drinks deep. His hair was perfectly styled, but his eyes were glassy with alcohol. When he noticed me, his lips curled into that familiar smirk of disgust.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he sneered, loud enough for people nearby to hear. “You look like you crawled out of a drain. If you’re not here to help, get lost.”

I forced a faint smile, steadying my breathing. “It’s important, Rafael. The new house inventory forms — they need your signature tonight.”

He let out a mocking laugh. “Now? Are you out of your mind? I’m in the middle of something.”

“Please,” I murmured, keeping my voice calm. “It’ll only take a second.”

I could feel the stares, the whispered judgment burning into me. To them, I was the neglected wife interrupting the show. The embarrassment.

Rafael rolled his eyes and reached for the folder, but before he could flip it open, a shrill giggle cut through the air.

Bianca — dressed like she owned the place — staggered dramatically from the couch and collapsed to the floor in an exaggerated heap.

“Oh no,” she cooed, her tone syrupy sweet as her gaze locked on Rafael. “I tripped. Rafael, baby, help me.”

He brushed past me instantly, concern plastered across his face. But before he could reach her, I stepped into his path. My hands trembled, but I stood my ground.

“Sign it first,” I said quietly. “Please.”

His eyes flashed with irritation. “For fuck’s sake, Selene!” He snatched the pen from my hand, scribbled his name across the line without reading a word, and shoved the folder back into my chest. “There. You happy now?”

“Perfect,” I whispered, sliding the papers safely beneath my arm.

Bianca was already upright, slinking toward him, her arms winding around his neck like vines. “Baby,” she pouted, “she’s ruining your mood again. Come upstairs. You promised me a dance.”

He gave me one last glare before disappearing with her into the blur of laughter and champagne.

I slipped away unnoticed, my hands trembling as I climbed the stairs. When I reached my room, I shut the door, locked it, and collapsed to my knees, clutching the folder against my heart. One signature. One step closer to the life he swore I’d never escape.

From the back of my closet, I dragged out the duffel bag I’d packed months ago — in secret, in silence, over countless sleepless nights. Inside were a few changes of clothes, a small stash of cash, and my mother’s medical documents. I emptied the jewelry box on my dresser, tossing away everything Rafael had ever bought me. Each piece glittered like a curse.

Except for one thing — the delicate silver necklace my mother had left behind. I found it nestled in the back of a drawer, still untangled, still pure. I clasped it around my neck, feeling its weight settle against my skin like a quiet reminder that someone once loved me without condition.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand, shattering the stillness. I snatched it up, expecting a message from my lawyer confirming the pickup.

But the name flashing on the screen froze me. Lemuel.

Rafael’s long-time rival — the man who had hovered around our marriage like a hawk circling something wounded.

I hesitated before answering. “Lemuel?”

“Selene,” he drawled, voice smooth as silk, carrying a hint of amusement. “Your father told me everything. What that bastard did to you… you never deserved any of it.”

I laughed shakily, bitterness spilling through the sound. “That’s an awfully nice way to put it.”

He chuckled lowly. “You want out, don’t you? Let me help you. Marry me. It’ll be fun — scandalous, even. Rafael won’t know what hit him.”

For a second, I just stared at the wall, a wild mix of disbelief and relief bubbling in my chest. Was it insane? Absolutely. But sanity hadn’t saved me before.

“Fine,” I said, my voice trembling with something close to freedom. “You want me? You can have me. I’ll be waiting.”

“Good girl,” he murmured. “Don’t back out.”

“I won’t.” I hung up, adrenaline flooding my veins.

The doorknob rattled. My pulse stopped.

Rafael burst in, his silhouette dark against the hallway light. His eyes were bloodshot, face flushed with liquor and rage.

“Who the hell were you talking to?” he snapped, crossing the room in two strides. “And why are you packing your things?”

He grabbed the phone from my hand before I could react. “Password.”

I tilted my head, meeting his glare with a faint smirk. “Our anniversary.”

He typed it in — February 18th. The screen flashed red. Incorrect.

His confusion hardened into anger. “The hell? That’s our date!”

I met his eyes. “No, Rafael. That’s you and Hannah. You forgot ours a long time ago.”

Color drained from his face before fury took over. “Tell me who you were talking to.”

“No one,” I lied smoothly. “I just need a few days with Mom. She’s not doing well.”

He laughed, the sound cold and sharp. “Did I say you could leave? You didn’t even lift a finger for the party, and now you’re playing the devoted daughter?”

He grabbed my arms, fingers digging in until I bit back a cry. Then he threw my phone against the dresser. It shattered, splintering the silence.

“Rafael?” Bianca’s voice floated in from the hallway, dripping with fake sweetness. “Everything okay, baby? Oh—are you two fighting about me again? Maybe it’s about me staying here?”

My stomach twisted. She was living here?

Rafael’s grin was cruel. “Nothing to worry about, sweetheart. She just thinks she can walk out on me.”

Bianca sauntered in, all perfume and smugness. “Well,” she purred, looping her arm through his, “when we go to Tokyo, maybe she can stay with her little coma mommy. Keep her company.”

He smirked, glancing at me like I was nothing. “Sounds perfect. Clean up this mess, Selene.”

They turned to leave. But Bianca paused at the doorway, her lips curving into a venomous smile. She leaned close enough that her whisper brushed my ear.

“You should be grateful I’m even letting you stay. Maybe you and your half-dead mother can rot together. You’ve always been nothing, Selene. Still are.”

Before I could react, her gaze flicked down to my chest. Her grin widened.

“Oh, this?” She yanked the necklace from my throat with a vicious tug, the chain snapping against my skin. “Pretty. I’ll take it.”

The instant Bianca’s fingers closed around my mother’s necklace, something in me broke clean in half.

“Don’t touch that!” I lunged forward, gripping her wrist. “That’s mine! My mother gave it to me before she got sick. You can’t just take it like it’s yours!”

Bianca’s smirk deepened, venom dripping from every word. “Oh, look who suddenly found her voice,” she taunted, yanking harder. The chain dug into my neck until it snapped with a sharp metallic sound.

My hand moved before I even realized it. The slap cracked through the air like thunder. For a fleeting second, I felt something close to power. “You’ve taken everything else from me,” I hissed. “You don’t get this too.”

But Bianca was quick to recover — her eyes widened, and tears sprang on command. She stumbled back dramatically, one hand covering her cheek. “Rafael!” she screamed, her voice shrill and practiced. “Rafael, help! She hit me! She’s losing it!”

Heavy footsteps thundered down the hall. Rafael appeared, the stench of whiskey and arrogance surrounding him. “What the hell is happening here?”

Bianca ran straight into his arms, sobbing into his shirt like a frightened child. “I was just trying to help her pack, and she slapped me! She said she wants my baby to die — she cursed your child, Rafael!”

My head snapped up. “That’s a lie!” My voice shook with fury. “She’s the one who said she hopes my mother dies—”

“Shut your mouth!” Rafael barked, the hatred in his eyes blazing. “You never stop, do you? Always playing the victim. You did it to Hannah, and now you’re trying to do it to Bianca too?”

Bianca whimpered, burying her face against him. “She hates me, Rafael. She keeps saying I ruined everything. She’s unstable — she scares me.”

I could barely breathe. “She’s lying!” My voice broke. “That necklace—she stole it. It’s all I have left of my mother—”

Rafael cut me off with a harsh laugh. “You’re crying over a trinket? Pathetic.” He pulled his phone from his pocket, his eyes glacial. “Still not going to apologize? Not even going to kneel and beg like you should?”

I met his gaze, forcing myself to stay upright even as my knees trembled. “No. I won’t bow to either of you.”

His smile turned cold. “You sure about that?” He pressed a button on his phone. I froze as the nurse’s voice echoed through the speaker.

“This is the nurse on duty.”

“Turn off the machines keeping my mother-in-law alive,” Rafael said smoothly. “No more free care for a vegetable. Let her rot like her daughter.”

My blood ran cold. “Stop!” I dropped to the floor, the impact jarring through my bones. “Please, Rafael! Don’t! I’ll do anything! I’m sorry — Bianca, I’m sorry! Please, just don’t hurt my mother!”

Bianca wiped away fake tears, her lips curling with triumph. “That’s more like it,” she said softly, savoring every word.

I pressed my forehead against the cold marble floor, biting back sobs. My nails dug into my palms until they bled, but I didn’t move. Just a few more days, I reminded myself. Just survive a few more days.

Rafael ended the call, slipping his phone back into his pocket. His disgusted sneer made my stomach twist. “You really are worthless,” he muttered. “Be thankful Bianca’s forgiving. Get up and clean this place before I make you regret breathing.”

Their footsteps faded. Bianca’s laughter trailed behind them, sharp and mocking, the broken necklace swinging from her fingers like a trophy.

I didn’t shed a single tear. Not this time.

When the house fell silent again, I crawled to my closet, dragging out a shoebox filled with remnants of what used to be my life — letters, photos, cards from anniversaries that meant nothing. Every word he’d written had once felt like love; now they were lies on paper.

I carried the box outside to the garden. The night air was still and heavy. Striking a match, I dropped it into the pile. The flames licked the edges of the photos, curling them to ash.

Rafael’s voice cut through the quiet. “What the hell are you doing now?”

I didn’t look up. “Getting rid of the trash.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “You’ve completely lost it.” Then he turned and went back inside, the door slamming shut behind him.

When the fire dimmed, I pulled out a small candle, lighting it with the last flicker of the match. It wasn’t for him — it was for the child I’d lost, the one whose heartbeat I’d never get to hear. And for Hannah, my twin, whose shadow I’d been living under for years.

Their laughter floated from the windows — Bianca’s high-pitched giggles mixing with Rafael’s low, drunken groans. Once, the sound would’ve shattered me. Now, it was just noise — hollow, meaningless.

By morning, the house was quiet again. I set a bouquet of white lilies beside Hannah’s framed photograph on the dresser. Today was her death anniversary. I wanted to visit the church, light a candle, whisper a prayer — maybe even ask her to forgive me for surviving when she didn’t.

But when I reached the door, Rafael was already standing there, arms crossed, eyes cold. “Where are you going?”

“To church,” I answered softly. “It’s Hannah’s day.”

He leaned closer, his breath reeking of last night’s alcohol. “And you think you deserve to mourn her? You killed her.”

My chest constricted. “That’s not true! She was driving — she wouldn’t listen—”

He shoved me hard, sending me stumbling back into the room. “Liar. You think playing saint makes you less guilty? You don’t get to leave this house. You belong right here — rotting.”

The door slammed. The lock clicked.

I stayed where I’d fallen, staring at the broken chain I’d managed to retrieve when Bianca dropped it in the chaos. The pendant was scratched, the clasp bent, but it was still mine. Still hers. I pressed it to my heart, whispering, “I’ll fix everything, Mama. Just hold on. Just a few more days.”

Night came heavy and silent. I sat by the window, the moon faint through the glass. When I heard footsteps outside my door, I braced myself, expecting Rafael’s slurred insults or Bianca’s shrill laughter.

But it wasn’t them.

The door creaked open. Two men in dark clothes slipped in — faces masked, hands rifling through my drawers. My pulse thundered in my ears.

“Please—” I choked out. “Take whatever you want. Just don’t hurt me.”

One of them turned. The faint glint of a knife caught the moonlight. Before I could move, he struck me across the face. Pain burst through my skull. I fell against the wall, vision spinning.

They tore through the room, throwing open drawers, scattering my things. I crawled toward the nightstand, fingers trembling as I grabbed my phone and dialed Rafael’s number.

He answered on the third ring, his voice groggy and annoyed.

“Rafael—please—there are men in the house! They’re taking everything—help me!”

A pause. Then a lazy sigh. “You really don’t quit, do you? I’m at the hospital with Bianca. Stop calling me for attention.”

“Rafael, I’m not lying—”

The line went dead.

My body went numb. The man yanked me up by the hair, the knife flashing again before he slammed me to the floor. I tasted blood, heard drawers crashing, glass breaking — the sound of my life being torn apart piece by piece.

And then, mercifully, there was nothing. Only darkness.