Prologue

Monday 5pm

I should have known the quiet was just too quiet. That stillness before something bad always carries its own stench, one your body can’t help but recognize even if your brain refuses to admit it. You know the feeling… the one like how animals go quiet just before they scurry away as a disaster hits. How their survival instinct kicks in to save the furry little buggers.

I’m feeling that right now, but instead of it sending me into a dark corner to hide until the feeling goes away, I settle back in the bath I’d run, letting the hot water lap around me, seeping into my pores and temporarily washing away my worries. And trust me, I have a few.

This was my one true vice. I loved a hot bath as often as possible. I’d added lavender oil to help with the headache that had been threatening all day. But nothing helped the sense of dread that had been creeping up my spine since arriving home.

My husband, Richard, had been unusually polite this afternoon; he was never polite anymore. And Gemma… Gemma hovered just outside my bedroom like a cat circling a mouse. She grinned, all sharp white teeth, like she’d been waiting her whole life for me to enter my room, ready to pounce.

How had I become this pathetic, weak creature that let my husband move his mistress into the master bedroom and me into the guest quarters? And treat me like shit. If we didn’t have staff, I’m sure they would have had me serving them like a housekeeper. I tried to keep out of their way as much as possible.

I closed my eyes, pretending not to notice how uneasy I was feeling. In that moment, I made two huge mistakes: one was arguing with the feeling of unease, and two was closing my eyes. I had just signed my own death warrant.

The first sign that I wasn’t alone anymore was the sound of movement at my back. The presence was dark, which sent a shiver of unease down my back jolting me upright. My eyes shot open and I snapped my head around to find Richard there, sleeves rolled, his tie gone. What worried me most was the sickly smile plastered on his face, and he wasn't alone, Gemma leaned over the edge of the tub on my left, her hands grabbing my arms and pinning them together with a force that surprised me. She was willowy thin but tall.

“Fawn, honey… relax. You’ve had such a stressful day,” Richard cooed, but his voice was laced with danger.

It was then I knew I was going to die.

He placed his hands on my shoulders before pushing me down, shoving my head under the water. I had no time to collect lifesaving air into my lungs.

So this was what my marriage had come to.

We had no prenup, and Richard wouldn’t divorce me because he was worried I would take half of everything he owned. I could see that murdering me was the easy solution in his eyes.

Relax. Was he joking? I was supposed to relax while he and Gemma tried to kill me.

My legs flailed, hitting water and bubbles, my movements restricted by their firm grips, none of it stopping them. I was short, soft, curvy… cute, maybe, but weak. Weak was exactly what they wanted. Weak was exactly what I was.

I should have left. I should have packed my things and moved out the day Richard moved Gemma in. My lovely parents would have welcomed me with open arms. Now it was too late for regrets.

I swallowed water. My lungs burned. Panic clawed up my throat. And somewhere in the fray, rage flared. It was sharp and hot. A wildfire I had never known I could feel.

For the first time in my miserable life, I didn’t want to please. I didn’t want to cry. I wanted… everything they had taken from me. My life. I wanted to live. I wanted to make him pay.

Richard leaned closer as I struggled to bring my face out of the water to take gulps of much-needed air. As I broke the surface, I was surprised by how calm his face was, like killing me was easy.

I thought he loved me in the beginning, but it was all lies. The only person Richard loved was himself. Did Gemma know she was just an accessory? She made him look good, but he didn’t love her.

“Struggle all you want. It won’t help. It’s time for you to drown in your bath.”

I felt Gemma press harder against my arms, pushing them deeper into the water, trying to drag me under. By holding my arms, she was stopping me from grabbing onto anything as Richard again pushed my shoulders down. I thrashed my legs, trying to fight, but I could feel myself slipping and knew I couldn’t get out of this.

I was going to die.

My vision blurred. All the pain I had felt over the last six months of my marriage to Richard blurred into betrayal and red-hot rage.

I remembered my life in flashes: the yeses I had said when I really meant no, the career I had given up, the humiliation I had swallowed, the chances I hadn’t taken.

I vowed, right there between gurgles and bubbles, that if I survived this, I would never be weak again.

I will not stay small. I will not stay invisible. I will stop living a pathetic, miserable life. I will not stay dead.

I thrashed, kicking my legs, trying to break Gemma’s hold so I could claw for the side of the tub. I fought against Richard and Gemma, but it did nothing. Water sloshed over the edge, soaking the floor. My arms shook as my lungs burned, screaming for air.

And yet… somewhere beneath the panic, the terror, and the certainty of death, something else stirred. A spark of something I had never felt before. Anger, yes. Power, yes. A dark, delicious taste of what it might be like to actually fight back.

Richard’s hand gripped my shoulder tighter. Gemma leaned closer, her bracelet clinking against the side of the tub. Clink, clink, as I fought her hold on me. If only I could free my hands.

I felt their confidence, their certainty that they would drown me. I hated them with every fiber of my being.

And I laughed, a choked, gurgling laugh that burned as it left my lips.

“Well, isn’t this… ironic,” I thought, panic and adrenaline mixing like fire in my veins. “I’m drowning, and I have never felt so… well, alive.”

I remembered every insult I’d swallowed, every time I’d bent, every humiliation. All of it came back, rolling over me in a nonstop wave.

If not in this life… then in the next. I will make sure they pay.

Richard’s voice cut through the water like a knife. “Fawn… it’s easier this way. Just… let go. Nobody wants you.”

Easier? For who? For them, maybe. But not easier for me. I wanted to live, no matter how horrible it had been. I wanted to see my parents again. Get a chance to make better choices.

I will make them pay for taking it away from me. This is what I fought for. That promise. They will pay. They will regret this for the rest of their lives. It set a fire in my belly and made me fight harder.

But the fight was all for nothing, water poured into my mouth, cold, suffocating, burning my throat. My lungs were on fire. My arms started to go weak. I thought I would black out—that this was it, my short, pathetic life ending with a splash and a laugh I wouldn’t hear.

And then… something changed within me.

A weight lifted. A pull. Not from the water, not even from the ceiling. It came from somewhere outside the room. Somewhere behind my eyes, inside my chest, something untethered as an invisible hook latched into me. Tugged. Gently at first, then firmer. It was not letting up.

I gasped in surprise, even as my lungs screamed for air. Something was pulling me up. Away. I tried to fight it. Tried to kick, thrash, claw myself back into the body I had known for twenty-four years.

But it was too strong. And I wasn’t afraid. Not really. Not now. Nothing was as terrifying as being drowned by my husband and his mistress.

What was happening? Am I going to hell? Am I going to heaven?

Was I… good enough to make it to heaven? Had I lived a life that deserved salvation and happiness inside the pearly gates?

Then, all of a sudden, I floated above my body, looking down, horrified. My hair was plastered to my skull, brown eyes wide, limbs limp. Gemma’s wicked grin. Richard’s calm, evil smile. They had done it. They had finally done it. I heard them, their voices distant and muffled.

I tried to scream, but no sound came. I tried to move, but my body didn’t answer. I was untethered, a soul in the void, hovering over my own death.

And then I remembered: my vow.

If they think this is the end, they are wrong. I will come back. I will make them pay. Or I will haunt them forever.

“Now let’s clean up the water. We need to make this look like an accident.” Richard’s voice sounded distant, almost like there was a wall between the real world and my soul. I saw Gemma grab for some towels.

But I got distracted when I felt the tug strengthen, pulling me further from the room, from where my body lay unmoving in the bath. Darkness closed in from every direction. I saw everything clearly one last time, taking in the scene, then everything started to fade away.

I will make them pay. Every last one of them. If it’s the last thing I do.

A weightless pull became a forceful yank, as if the universe itself had decided I belonged somewhere else. I resisted. I clawed at the nothingness. I willed myself to stay tethered, to stay alive. I needed to see, watch over my body.

But the darkness wasn’t patient. And it didn’t care about my needs or desires; it was insistent.

I whispered one last promise to the void… I will not be weak next time. I will not be forgotten. I will not stay small. Not for them. Not ever. I will make them pay. I will make them suffer. I will burn their lives to the ground and laugh while I do it.

And then finally… I let go.

One last thought flickered through me: where the hell is my frigging white light or tunnel everyone talks about? Maybe I was going to hell after all.

The world collapsed into a swirl of shadows and silence, then I was nothing. Yet I was everything. I was neither here nor there. And yet, the fire inside me burned brighter than it ever had in life.

I didn’t know if I would wake again. I didn’t know if I would see the sun, or water, or breathe in fresh air. But one thing I knew: they had awakened something in me. Something fierce, almost immortal, it refused to be forgotten and refused to die.

And somewhere, beyond the darkness, beyond the tug, beyond the silence… I felt the first spark of the life I would take back. The life I would claim, and the vengeance I would have.

I was alive.

And I would make them pay.

Then everything went black.