Chapter 3

The pounding on the bathroom door started almost at once. Margaret had arrived with private security and a spare key. "You refuse to leave Alex, so I'm arranging your exit," she called through the door. "Victor will pose for a few pictures. In the morning, you'll sign the divorce papers, and the seven hundred thousand dollars will be yours."

My mind was hazy, but I bit my lip hard enough to draw blood, forcing myself to stay conscious. "This isn't an arrangement. It's a crime."

When they broke down the door, two men forced me into a car and drove me to one of Victor's hotels. Margaret's lawyers later repackaged what happened there as a consensual encounter. Victor used the hidden-camera footage as proof of my "affair." He threatened to release the video and hurt my baby if I went to the police.

The next morning, I woke on the hotel bathroom floor, bruised and bleeding. My phone held dozens of flirtatious messages I had never sent. Victor played the edited clips for me. The camera avoided the restraint marks on my wrists and kept only the images that could destroy my marriage. He said the Walsh PR team already had a statement ready. If I told the truth, they would paint me as an unstable woman trying to extort a powerful family.

The assault sent me into premature labor. Noah and I both nearly died. Alex saw only the edited footage and my fingerprint on the divorce agreement. He believed the baby was dead. He believed I had taken the money and run away with Victor.

Noah weighed less than four and a half pounds and spent six weeks in an incubator. Every day, I stood outside the glass and counted his breaths. I worked at a commercial laundry during the day and returned to the hospital at night to pump what little milk I had. Victor routed the bills to his club, then used each payment to buy my silence. The seven hundred thousand dollars remained untouched in a separate account. Taking even one dollar would have felt like admitting their lie was true.

Victor had controlled me with that footage for five years. Sometimes he paid my rent, then saved the receipts as proof that I depended on him. He knew Noah's kindergarten, too. Whenever I tried to leave New York, he would smile and say, "Disappear, and child protective services gets a file proving you're an unfit mother."

Now Victor reached for me again. Alex caught my wrist first and ordered him to back off. They pulled me between them until pain detonated behind my eyes and my legs gave way.

"Mia!" Alex dropped to his knees and caught me, his voice panicked for the first time.

Victor sneered. "This isn't new. When the pain gets bad enough, she crawls to me and begs for pills. You're a little late to start caring, Mr. Walsh."

Alex's grip tightened. "Say that again."

"If you want her, ask what she wants." Victor bent over me. "Mia, who do you choose?"

I knew I had only days left. If Victor took me, I would not live long enough to see Noah again. I clutched Alex's sleeve with the last of my strength. "Get me to a hospital... please."

It was the first time in five years that I had reached for him willingly. Even through his expensive coat, I remembered the warmth of his arm. I remembered believing he would put himself between me and anything that tried to hurt me. His embrace was inches away, but reaching for him felt like grasping at a door already locked against me and waiting for him to decide whether I deserved to live.

Lydia held Alex's arm tighter, her voice trembling. "It's my birthday. Are you really going to leave me and the baby here for her?"

Victor laughed. "The great Alex Walsh has to take care of his wife first, doesn't he? Besides, isn't your family the reason Mia is dying?"

I turned toward his voice, confused.

Victor went on. "That donation agreement ten years ago? Alex ordered the hospital to draw it up himself. He knew exactly who you were, and he knew from the start that Lydia never needed all those collections."