I ran through the rain, through the cars, the city slapping itself against my face. Horns blared. My hair plastered to my skin. My clothes stuck to me, soaked with sweat and rain.

When I finally reached the hospital room, I pushed the door open.

There she was. Zenith. My little girl, curled small in the bed. Her hands wrapped in thick bandages. She looked like my daughter, the one who used to giggle at piano keys, and at the same time she looked like a stranger, someone carved out of pain.

I collapsed beside her. My tears soaked into her hair. “Zenith,” I whispered, over and over. “Mama’s here. Mama’s here, baby.” Everything inside me, all the pieces that had hardened into stone, melted against her skin.

The door creaked and a doctor came in.

“Your daughter’s hands… severe damage. We did everything we could. Surgery, therapy… there’s hope. She could regain function.”

“C-can she still play piano? Piano… she loved piano.”

“Maybe someday. But not soon.”

I nodded and pressed my hand over my mouth, crying silently. All the piano recitals we’d circled on the calendar, all the little dreams… burned in my mind. Bright little futures, now twisted into something cruel and uncertain.

The door opened again, not gently this time. A man walked in, tall, smiling like he knew exactly how dangerous he was, two hulking men shadowing him.

“Odette,” he said like we were meeting for coffee, old friends. “I’m Johnny. Johnny Wattson. Aamon sent me.”

The doctor practically bolted out the room.

Johnny leaned on the bed rail. “Aamon took care of the kidnappers. Want to see their bodies?”

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

He chuckled, like I’d given him a private joke. “Too bad. Quite the art, really. Aamon had them killed, dismembered. They won’t bother you again.” He tilted his head, watching me like a cat watching a bird. “Want to know who hired them?”

Zenith stirred, a soft whimper escaping her lips. I hugged her tighter, pressed her face to my chest, refused to meet Johnny's eyes. “I don’t want to know. I just want her safe.”

Johnny's smile sharpened. “As you wish. Aamon’s coming to Europe. One week. Sign your divorce papers. After that… he’ll collect you himself.”

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

Johnny's eyes glimmered with amusement as he leaned closer. “Don’t thank me, little dove. Aamon won’t take thanks. He’ll take you. Body, soul. That’s the only payment he wants.”

He straightened, winked like this was some kind of game, and left, his men trailing behind like shadows.

...

The room felt smaller when they were gone. Darker. Zenith shifted in my arms, crying now. I held her tighter, rocked her, whispered to her, and the night pressed in around us, walls closing in.

I didn’t notice the hours passing and must have fallen asleep because my phone buzzed in the dark. Zenith’s tiny, bandaged hands rested on my chest. For a second I thought I was still dreaming. Then the screen flashed. Gillian.

My thumb shook as I answered. His voice ripped through the line like fire. “Where the hell are you?! Why aren’t you home? You think you can run off and embarrass me? Disappear like this?”

I stared at Zenith’s fragile face, her lashes brushing her cheeks, her little body too small under the white sheets. I didn’t say a word. I ended the call and powered the phone off. The silence was heavy, but it felt like a tiny act of rebellion. For once, I chose quiet over his rage.

By sunrise, my body ached from the narrow hospital bed, my clothes stiff with dried rain and sweat. I smelled of fear and sterile walls. Zenith stirred, and I smoothed her hair, forcing a smile I didn’t feel. “Mama’s right here. I’ll get us clean clothes, okay? Then I’ll make sure I look pretty again for you.”

I stepped into the hallway, and the world spun around me. Medics rushed past, wheels squealing, pushing a gurney. On it lay Gibeah—pale, clutching her stomach, her cries sharp and desperate. Jenniva clung to her side, her voice shrill as she screamed at the doctors. Gillian stormed behind them, face twisted with panic, barking orders like a storm.

His eyes found me.

He tore away from the gurney and grabbed my arm so hard I thought he’d snap it.

“Odette!” His hand swung before I could even breathe. The slap burned across my cheek, hot and blinding.

“How dare you,” he growled, digging his fingers into my flesh. “You ordered someone to poison Gibeah last night! You really thought you could kill my daughter and get away with it? You pathetic little bitch.”

My face burned. My chest burned worse. I swallowed the scream clawing up my throat. No words came out because it wouldn’t matter. Gillian had already chosen his truth. He would never believe me.

Gibeah groaned, weak and frightened. “Daddy… Daddy!”

Gillian tore himself away from me, running after the gurney, chasing the girl he worshipped. His parting words sliced through me. “We’ll talk after this.”

Jenniva brushed past, her perfume thick and sickly sweet, choking the air. Her lips curved into the faintest, smug smile. Calm. That was all I needed to know. She had orchestrated this. Poisoned Gibeah and pinned it on me.

I bit down hard and swallowed the sob rising in my chest. I kept walking, stiff, refusing to crumble 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 getting to Zenith.

At the elevator, I pressed the button, willing it to open. The doors slid apart with a soft chime. Relief rushed through me—until someone stepped in my way.

Jenniva.

She leaned against the doorway, her perfume thick and sickly sweet, like poison. “How’s your little Zenith? Dead yet?” She tilted her head, voice mocking. “I had those thugs smash her tiny fingers. So my daughter could take the spotlight at the piano contest. And when they were done, I told them to dump your little girl’s body on the street like trash.”

“How dare you!”

The words tore out of me before I even realized, my palm already slamming against Jenniva’s painted cheek.

Slap!

“Oh my! She— she slapped me!”

She shrieked, stumbling back like I had snapped her in half, clutching her face, wailing like some porcelain doll someone had dropped. Her act was flawless, practiced to the bone.

Gasps spread through the crowd. Whispers cut like knives.

“Did you see that?”

“Poor Jenniva.”

“Odette’s lost it.”

“Isn’t that Mr. Gillian’s wife? Why is she hitting Miss Jenniva?”

I could feel every eye on me, burning into my skin, but I didn’t care anymore.

“You think I don’t see you?” I shouted, voice hoarse, trembling with years of swallowed pain. “You snuck into my life, whispered poison into Gillian’s ears, made him turn his back on me. You ruined my family and now… you tried to hurt Zenith!” My throat burned as the words tore out. “You think your tears hide your venom, but I know exactly who you are. A scheming, manipulative snake!”

Jenniva shook her head, sobbing harder, like some wronged saint. The crowd softened to her, but I knew better.

Then Gillian’s voice thundered behind me. “Odette!”

I turned just in time to see his hand rise. The slap hit me fast, brutal, knocking me down.

He loomed over me. “After hurting my daughter, you dare lay your filthy hands on my first love? If it weren’t for that cursed arranged marriage, Jenniva would have been my wife!”

The crowd gasped again, whispers twisting the knife deeper.

“She’s unstable.”

“No wonder Mr. Gillian never loved her.”

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

Jenniva’s soft sobs made her look fragile, innocent, precious. And I was the monster. Always the monster.

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

Gillian laughed, cold and sharp. “What a desperate psycho you are. First, you fake a kidnapping just to get my attention. And now you throw another pathetic scene? You should win an award for acting, Odette.”

He pulled papers from his jacket and tossed them at me like trash. They scattered at my feet. “Here. Isn’t this what you want?”

I bent down, hands trembling, to pick them up. But before I could, he leaned down too, snatching them back with a cruel smirk.

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

He waved the papers like a leash I couldn’t escape, then turned, wrapping his arm around Jenniva’s shoulders, leading her away like she was his treasure and I was just dirt beneath his shoes.

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

...

I walked down the hall, dragging my body, until I reached Zenith’s room. I closed the door, pressed my forehead to the wood, shaking and crying so hard my chest ached.

Through my sobs, I whispered a promise that tasted like blood. “Well then, Gillian… by a week, I’m no longer tied to you.”

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

I pushed the door open, and my breath caught. Jenniva. She was standing in the middle of the living room like she owned the place, Gibeah sprawled on the couch, laughing like he had every right to be there.

Zenith’s tiny voice trembled next to me. “Mama… why is Gibeah here?”

Before I could answer, Gibeah looked up, smug, a little grin spreading across her face. “Because this is my house now. I’m the real daughter. You’re just… nothing.”

Zenith flinched, her hand clutching mine. Heat rose in my chest, and I wanted to rip that arrogance right out of her. But Jenniva’s lips curled, voice smooth as poison. “Gibeah, go to your room.”

She grinned, satisfied, and marched up the stairs like a little princess.

The maids passed by, eyes flicking away from me. Whispers cut through the air like knives. “Mr. Gillian ordered everything moved… Madam Odette’s things are in the maid’s quarters now.”

I swallowed hard, forcing the tears back. Jenniva pressed a hand to her chest, pretending embarrassment. “Oh, Odette… Gillian said I should stay here with Gibeah. He’s tired of hiding our relationship. I didn’t know they’d move your things. Please don’t misunderstand me.”

Her voice was honey, but her eyes were laughing.

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

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

“Mama, why is Papa treating us like we don’t exist?”

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

...

That night, the villa was alive with lights and music spilling from the dining hall. A dinner for Gillian’s business partners. I was forced to sit far down the table, like a guest who wasn’t welcome in her own home.

Jenniva sat at Gillian’s side, her hand brushing his arm like she already owned him. She smiled sweetly, gently, and the men at the table stared, admiring her like she was some kind of goddess.

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

Gillian smirked, swirling his glass like he owned the air in the room. “She’s just here for appearances. My real woman has always been Jenniva. And this girl, Gibeah, she’s my true heir.”

Gibeah stood, chest puffed, walking to the piano like she owned the house. Her fingers flew over the keys, sharp and precise, filling the room with perfect notes. Everyone clapped, admiration dripping from their eyes.

Beside me, Zenith’s little face twisted in tears, staring down at her ruined hands. Her tiny fingers trembled like they remembered the pain over and over. I felt sick, my chest aching. How had it come to this? How had Gillian let this happen?

Jenniva tilted her head, voice smooth as honey but dripping venom. “Poor little Zenith. Can’t play the piano now? What a shame. Your mama let this happen—”

I slammed my fork to the plate, heart hammering. “Don’t you dare poison her mind! It was you! You hired those thugs to crush her fingers just so your daughter could steal the spotlight!”

Gasps rippled around the table. Jenniva’s lips trembled, tears falling, as she clutched at Gillian. “Odette… why are you attacking me in front of everyone? What did I ever do to you?” Her voice was fragile, broken, but I knew it was all an act.

Gillian’s chair screeched as he rose, eyes blazing.

“How dare you shame Jenniva in front of my partners!” His roar made the chandelier shake. Before I could even think, his hand tangled in my hair and yanked me hard. Pain flared across my scalp as he dragged me down to my knees on the cold marble.

Zenith cried out, tiny voice sharp and desperate. “Papa! Don’t hurt Mama!”

Gillian snapped his head toward her, voice low and cruel. “Shut up, girl. If you don’t stop crying, I’ll feed you to the snakes.”

I froze. Zenith’s face went pale, her little body shaking against me. She had always been terrified of snakes. Gibeah—Jenniva’s daughter—had shoved a python in her schoolbag once. I remembered the blood, the screams, and how Gillian had just shrugged. Never protected her. Never.

Now Zenith pressed herself to me, trembling so hard it broke something inside me.

Around us, the business partners shifted, uncomfortable at first, then one chuckled. Another joined in, and soon the whole table was laughing, tossing cruel words like knives.

“The jealous wife doesn’t know her place.”

“Gillian, train her better.”

Jenniva stayed close to him, hand on his sleeve, her voice soft and trembling like a fragile 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 cheek again, fire burning through me, ears ringing. “Apologize to Jenniva. Now!”

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

“Do it, Odette!” he thundered. “Or Zenith loses everything. No more doctors. No school. No food. Let her rot with you in the streets.”

I froze, looking at Zenith shaking beside me. Her little hands clutching at mine. My heart ached. For her… only for her… I lowered myself fully to the floor. Tears slid down my cheeks as I whispered, voice barely there, “I’m sorry, Jenniva.”

The men laughed, clinking glasses. “At least she knows her place,” one smirked.

Jenniva wiped her fake tears and walked over, smiling like I was a stray dog. Patting my head, sweet and cruel. “It’s okay. Odette’s just jealous. I forgive her.”

The men praised her like she was some saint, their words slicing into me. Is this my life now? Always humiliated, always broken? I wondered, hating myself for bending.

Zenith’s small voice cut through the noise, trembling but fierce. “Don’t talk to my mama like that! She’s not jealous!”

Gillian’s face darkened, black with fury. He snapped his fingers. “Take that girl out of here before she embarrasses me further.”

The maids hesitated, then carefully took Zenith from my arms. She screamed, claws digging into me, but they pulled her away while I stayed on the floor, shaking, my heart feeling like it was tearing in half.

Gillian raised his glass, smug. “This is why women need discipline.”

The men laughed. One leaned back, sneering. “Lock her in the basement until she learns some manners.”

Gillian smirked. “Maybe I should.”

I stayed silent, trembling, swallowing down every scream. If I said anything, it would only make it worse.

When the guests finally left, the villa grew quiet. My cheek still burned, my hair still tangled from his grip. I walked down the hallway and there she was, snake whore Jenniva cornering me, her perfume choking the air.

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

Her eyes glittered, a cruel smile on her face. “Gibeah will replace Zenith in everything. Music. Legacy. Even love.”

I couldn’t speak. My throat burned, my heart felt shredded.

...

That night, back in the tiny maid’s quarters, I lay beside Zenith. Her breathing was uneven, little fists still clenched even in sleep.

I pressed my hand over my mouth and cried quietly, choking on every sob. But somewhere deep inside, something stirred. A tiny spark of fire. Gillian would never protect us. Jenniva would never stop until Zenith was broken.

In the dark, I whispered to myself, voice shaking but determined. “One day… I’ll make them pay for everything.”

Then my phone lit up on the table. The name flashed across the screen. Aamon Rutherford.

“Hello?”

His voice was low, cold, steady like steel. “Seven days are almost up, Odette. Get ready. I’m coming to Europe to collect what’s mine.”

Before I could even catch a breath, the line went dead. I sat there, trembling, Aamon’s voice still echoing in my head like a storm. My chest ached, but for the first time in forever, I felt something like relief. Dangerous as he was, Aamon had saved Zenith when no one else moved. I wiped my tears and whispered into the quiet, “Whatever you are… you’re the only one who actually came for us.”

For the first time, the smile on my face wasn’t cracked. It was sharp, cold, dangerous.

...

The villa was dead quiet. Everyone was asleep. I crept up the stairs, each step heavy, my heart pounding so loud I thought it would wake them. When I reached the master bedroom, I froze. The door was slightly open, and through the slit I saw them.

Jenniva on top of Gillian, laughing. Their bodies tangled, their faces glowing with something that made my stomach twist in knives. Any love I had left for him died right then, watching him touch her like I didn’t exist.

Jenniva’s voice cut through the room. “When are you going to divorce her, Gillian? I’m tired of being the mistress.”