Chapter 3

How could I ever forget?

For the first half of his life, Julian had been suffocated under his mother's iron grip.

The one and only time he ever rebelled was to marry me.

He knelt outside his mother's study for three days and three nights. His back was whipped bloody with cane switches until eight of them snapped in half.

He passed out five times from dehydration and starvation.

He was willing to die just to be with me.

Even right before he went into cardiac arrest on the gurney, his very last breath was spent begging his mother to let us marry.

Yet, I couldn't forget three months ago, either. I had spent hours in the kitchen, scalding both of my hands to make his favorite homemade soup, and carried it to his corporate office.

There was Vivian, sitting on his lap, winding his silk tie around her waist, tracing slow circles over his chest with her fingertips.

I had dumped the entire thermos of boiling soup all over her.

Julian had been so enraged that he ordered his security detail to drag me out into the untamed wilderness of the Pacific Northwest mountains to "teach me a lesson."

For three whole months, I had scavenged for wild mushrooms and drank unfiltered creek water just to survive.

Now, my finger shook violently as I pointed at Vivian in our bed.

"Fine. One last chance. Her, or me?"

Julian went completely silent.

Those few seconds of hesitation felt like a thousand steel needles driving through my heart.

Slowly, the last trace of warmth inside me died out.

A self-deprecating smile touched my lips. I picked up my purse and walked toward the bedroom door.

"Don't worry about choosing. I'll have my lawyer file the petition tomorrow. We're done."

Julian lunged forward and grabbed my wrist. I yanked it away, but he grabbed it again, over and over, stubborn and unrelenting.

We wrestled from the bedroom out into the grand hallway. Vivian followed close behind, her eyes red, her voice ringing out like a metronome:

"Mr. Hayes, according to your prescribed schedule, this is the designated window for your sleep cycle."

That sentence was the final straw that broke my sanity.

I spun around and slapped her across the face.

"This is between my husband and me! Shut your damn mouth!"

"Samantha!"

Julian's eyes turned bloodshot in an instant. He stared at the red handprint on Vivian's pale cheek, his voice dropping to a terrifying chill. "Apologize to her."

I looked at him. When I demanded a divorce, he hadn't blinked. But seeing a mark on another woman's face made him snap. A hollow laugh tore from my chest.

It felt like a fish hook was caught in my throat.

I couldn't swallow it down, and I couldn't cough it up. It just tore me open, warm blood filling my mouth.

Seeing that I had no intention of apologizing, his rage boiled over.

"Lock her in the basement," Julian barked at the security guards downstairs. "Keep her down there until she learns how to say she's sorry."

Two guards grabbed me roughly and dragged me toward the basement stairs.

No matter how hard I kicked and screamed, it was useless.

Looking back up the staircase, all I saw was Julian leaning down, whispering something softly to Vivian.

She didn't speak. She just looked down at me through the banisters, wearing the smug, quiet smile of a victor.

I was thrown into the pitch-black basement, and the heavy reinforced door slammed shut.

Not a single sliver of light penetrated the dark. It was suffocating, pitch-black.

I pounded against the cold metal door, shrieking until my throat burned:

"Julian Hayes, let me out! I'm scared!"

"You know I have severe claustrophobia! Let me out of here! I'm going to die in here, I'm going to die!"

No matter how hysterically I screamed, nobody answered.

The crushing pressure of the enclosed space closed in around my lungs until I couldn't even draw a breath.

He knew. He knew better than anyone.

The year before we got married, I was studying art abroad in a historic gallery in Europe when an earthquake hit. The building collapsed, burying people under slabs of concrete.

When I was trapped in the rubble, terrified out of my mind, it was Julian who dug through the debris brick by brick. He wore all ten of his fingernails down to raw, bleeding flesh just to pull me out.

I had clung to him, weeping, "Julian, I'm so terrified of the dark."

He had held me tight, kissing away my tears, promising over and over: "Sam, I almost lost you. I swear to God, I will never, ever leave you alone in the dark again."

And now, he was the one who had ordered his men to throw me into the dark.

I curled into the tightest ball I could in the corner, clutching my knees, trembling uncontrollably.

The sheer terror shattered every last shred of my pride.

For three days and three nights, they kept me locked in that room without a single drop of water or a single bite of food.

The faint rustling of mice in the corners was enough to send me spiraling into panic attacks.

Just as I was on the brink of losing consciousness completely...

The door finally opened.

He stood in the doorway, backlit by the hallway lights, looking down at me. His voice was completely devoid of warmth.

"Do you know what you did wrong?"