I don’t even know how I got to the hospital.

Everything after the pain was a blur—burnt eyes, shaking hands, and the soft sting of humiliation that clung to every breath I took. I remembered crawling. I remembered cars honking, faces staring. But no one helped. Not a soul.

By the time I made it to the emergency room, my vision had become a watery haze, white-hot and blinding. My skin stung. My body trembled. My soul felt carved out and hollow.

The nurse looked up in alarm. “My God,” she gasped, rushing over. “What happened to you?”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. My throat was raw from screaming.

She led me gently into the examination room, guiding me like I was made of glass. Hours passed—tests, ointments, lights shining into my damaged eyes. I clutched the edge of the bed, bracing myself.

Later, a doctor entered, his expression relieved. “It’s a miracle,” he said. “The damage was mostly superficial. Your vision’s safe, but you’ll feel the pain for a while.”

The nurse beside him added softly, “You’re lucky. That chemical could’ve blinded you permanently. Do you want to call someone? Your husband?”

I shook my head. My lips barely moved, but I forced out a soft, “No.”

No one. There was no one I wanted. No one I trusted.

Then, my phone buzzed on the side table. The screen lit up with a name I once would’ve ignored—Scott.

I hesitated before answering.

His voice was clear, confident. “Are you ready to be picked up?”

I swallowed hard, pressing the phone to my ear. “Yes. Just… one more day. I need him to sign the papers.”

A pause. Then a slow chuckle. “Good. Because there’s no way you’re backing out now, Nadia. You’re mine.”

For a moment, I didn’t respond.

There was a time I hated that sentence. I hated Scott. I hated the way my brother tried to force us together—tried to tell me he was the better choice.

But now? Now I saw it. Scott had always been steady. Loyal. Patient. He loved me. And more than that, he never tried to manipulate me.

“Sure,” I finally said. “I’m yours.”

Then I hung up, staring at the ceiling.

This wasn’t just about revenge anymore. It was about taking back control. Of my body. My choices. My life.

When I was discharged, I didn’t wait for anyone. I took a cab back to the house. The home that didn’t feel like mine anymore.

Colton was in the living room, surrounded by scattered paperwork, talking on the phone like nothing happened. Like I didn’t almost lose my eyes. Like I didn’t scream for him, and he didn’t ignore me.

He didn’t even glance up as I entered.

“I need you to sign something for the hospital,” I said coolly, holding out the envelope.

He waved his hand dismissively. “Why would I need to—?”

“It’s a release form,” I cut him off, keeping my voice flat. “For liability.”

That made him pause. “Fine, whatever.”

He scribbled his signature without even reading it.

It was done.

As I turned toward the door, I could finally breathe. Tomorrow, I’d be free.

But before I could step out—

The front door slammed open.

“You witch!” she shrieked. “What did you do to my daughter?!”

I staggered, my scalp burning. “What are you talking about?!”

“She was kidnapped, you psychotic freak!” Beatrice screamed, her eyes bloodshot and brimming with fake tears. “She was screaming for help while they locked her in some dirty warehouse! What kind of monster are you?!”

Just then, a small voice broke through the chaos.

“She kidnapped me!”

Maureen.

She stood near the entrance, her face streaked with dried tears, hair disheveled, her tiny arms covered in faint bruises.

A bandage was wrapped hastily around her knee. She looked fragile—broken. Her pink dress was ripped near the hem, and she clutched a stuffed bunny, holding it like it was her last anchor to safety.

My stomach twisted in horror.

Colton rushed to her side instantly, pulling her into his arms. “Oh my God… Baby… What did they do to you?”

Maureen clung to him, sobbing into his shirt. “Daddy… she’s bad… she had them take me… the men said it was because of her… they hurt me…”

My breath caught. “What?!” I took a step forward. “Maureen, no—sweetheart, I didn’t—”

She flinched, burying herself deeper into Colton’s chest.

Beatrice turned on me like a blade. “She’s terrified of you! She couldn’t stop crying the whole ride back! Covered in bruises, screaming your name like it was some curse—saying you sent them!”

I shook my head violently. “No! I would never… I don’t know anything about this!”

Beatrice’s voice cracked as she pointed a trembling hand at me. “They said it. The kidnappers—they said they were paid… by someone in this house… and the little girl said your name! That’s all the proof we need!”

My vision blurred. “I didn’t… I couldn’t…”

“She’s jealous,” Beatrice sobbed, falling into an exaggerated cry. “She lost her baby… and now she wants mine! She can’t stand to see me and my child happy—that’s what this is about!”

“Don’t say that,” I whispered. My voice was barely there, but it shook with rage and devastation. “You don’t get to say that to me. I lost my baby, yes, but I would never hurt a child. Especially not Maureen.”

“Then explain this!” Colton roared, stepping between us. “Explain the bruises on her arms! The warehouse they found her in! Her torn dress and the way she screamed every time someone said your name!”

“I don’t know!” I cried out. “I didn’t do it—I swear to you, I had nothing to do with this!”

Beatrice let out a shaky breath and turned to Colton with wide, watery eyes. “I told you it was a mistake keeping her in this house. I knew she hated me, but I didn’t think she’d go this far… I thought we were friends…”

Colton’s jaw clenched. His face twisted with fury as he looked at me like I was a stranger.

“This is why you lost our child,” he said, his voice like ice. “You don’t deserve to be a mother.”

His words hit me like a slap across the face.

I stood there, frozen, mouth slightly open, the sting of his accusation worse than the burns I once endured. “You… you really think I could do that?”

He didn’t answer.

Beatrice stepped forward again, holding Maureen protectively. “We’re leaving,” she said firmly. “I won’t let my daughter stay in a house with that woman.”

I looked down at Maureen—her bruised skin, her tearful eyes. My heart ached. I didn’t blame her. I blamed them.

“You don’t even know what’s real anymore,” I whispered, but it was already too late.

Colton pointed toward the door, not even meeting my eyes. “If they don’t come back here… then you’re dead to me.”

The sound of the door slamming echoed through the house like thunder.

But I didn’t cry.

Not this time.

Because tomorrow—I will be gone.

I folded another dress into the suitcase, my hands trembling as I pressed it flat. The room felt colder than usual, despite the late morning sun streaming through the windows.

I zipped the case slowly, closing it like I was burying something. Or someone.

My past self, maybe.

The door slammed open behind me.

“And where the hell do you think you’re going?”

Colton’s voice was sharp, accusing. He stood at the threshold in his suit, hair perfectly styled, like nothing had happened. Like he hadn’t watched me be humiliated and accused. Like he hadn’t abandoned me.

I didn’t look up. “I’m leaving.”

He scoffed. “Leaving? You mean going on a trip? And who told you that you could leave?”

Still calm, I answered, “I don’t need your permission.”

“You’re my wife. You don’t get to just walk out! Especially not now. You’re staying here, Nadia. Locked in this house if I have to.”

I turned to face him slowly, gaze empty. “Why? So I can watch you parade Beatrice and Maureen around again like they belong here more than I do?”

“They do!” he barked, stepping forward. “They were supposed to stay here—this was their home too! You pushed them out!”

“Then let them stay,” I said, folding my arms. “Since you’ve already chosen your new little family, let me go.”

“No,” he said coldly, his voice deepening. “You’re not going anywhere. Have you forgotten about the deal tomorrow? The investors want you there. You—with your name, your face, your perfect image. You’re part of the contract, remember?”

He grabbed the suitcase and hurled it across the room. Clothes scattered everywhere.

“I don’t care if you cry, scream, or beg,” he continued. “You’re not leaving until I say you can.”

He leaned in, voice low and threatening. “And you’re going to apologize. To Beatrice. To Maureen. You hurt them. You’ll make it right, or I’ll make sure you regret it.”

Then, without another word, he turned and left—slamming the door behind him and clicking the lock from outside.

I stood there in silence, shaking.

This wasn’t love.

This was prison.

I dropped to the floor, curling into myself, sobbing into the silence. Everything inside me felt heavy and hollow at the same time. The more I fought for a life with him, the more I lost myself. And now—I had nothing left.

When I finally lifted my head, the light outside had dimmed. The sky was painted in bruised lavender and muted gold—a beautiful lie above a home that had become my prison.

I walked to the drawer and took out a small white candle—the one I had once saved for our baby's room, back when I still believed there would be lullabies instead of lies. Back when I believed there was still something gentle about the future.

I lit it with shaking fingers and placed it by the window. A small flame. A quiet goodbye.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, voice catching in my throat. “I should’ve given you a better start. A better father. But maybe… maybe it’s better this way. You never had to see me like this. You never had to know how unloved you were… by him.”

The flame flickered as if listening, then burned steady, warm and defiant. I stared at it until tears blurred my vision. Until the silence wrapped around me like a shroud.

I sat for a long time after lighting the candle, letting the silence settle into my bones. But even peace, even mourning, didn’t last long here.

Eventually, I stood and walked to the door.

I tried the knob. Locked.

I knocked—once, twice. “Hello?!” I called out.

No answer. I slammed my palm against the wood, harder this time. “Is anyone out there?!”

I heard faint shuffling beyond it—someone was there. One of the butlers. The ones Colton had paid too well to ever defy him. My throat tightened.

“I need to go out,” I said, forcing my voice to sound steady. “Please—just open the door.”

Still, no answer.

I stepped back, heart pounding, panic clawing at my chest.

He really meant it.

I was trapped. But I wasn’t staying.

Not another night. Not another second.

I moved quickly, knowing the time was ticking before Colton came back.

First, I went to the desk.

I pulled open the drawer and took out the envelope that held the divorce papers. I placed it squarely in the center of the desk. Next, I reached for my wedding ring. I slid it off my finger and dropped it beside the papers.

I grabbed my passport from the top drawer. I hadn’t packed again, not after Colton had thrown everything, but I didn’t need much. I wrapped a shawl around me, pulled on a hoodie, then went to the closet.

I found one of the longer bedsheets—white and soft. I folded it in half and twisted it like a rope. My hands trembled as I tied one end around the heavy side railing of the balcony door and opened the glass quietly.

The air was cold. Sharp.

I stepped onto the balcony. Two floors up.

I glanced down—there was no one in the garden.

No alarms. No guards in sight.

Gripping the makeshift rope, I climbed down slowly, biting my lip to keep from making any noise. My foot slipped once—I nearly screamed—but I caught myself, heart thudding.

The drop was farther than it looked. My arms ached. My breath came in sharp bursts.

Finally, I hit the ground, knees buckling. I landed in the rose bushes. Thorns scratched my hands and legs, but I didn’t care. I was out.

I ran. Straight to the outer gate, across the path lined with memories I never wanted again.

And there—just outside the driveway—

A sleek black car.

Scott. He stepped out, eyes scanning sharply until he saw me emerge from the trees, disheveled and breathless.

“Nadia?”

“I was locked in,” I gasped. “I had no other way out. I had to jump.”

Scott’s jaw clenched. He stepped forward and took off his jacket, wrapping it around me. “Did he hurt you again?”

I shook my head, but I couldn’t speak. My hands trembled as I held onto his arm.

“Let’s go,” he said. “You’re never coming back to him!”

He led me to the car and opened the door. I didn’t look back, not once.

We sped away before anyone could notice I was gone.

At the airport, I removed my SIM card, tossed it into the trash bin.

By the time Colton returned home, I was already gone... and he would never find me again.