Chapter 2

My mind went back to the photo Nigel had liked on Ruby's social media that afternoon. She was sitting down to an elaborate Valennian dinner.

"We're out of bread. Just order takeout," I said.

Then I grabbed my suitcase and headed toward the bedroom.

Nigel suddenly grabbed my wrist and squeezed so hard that I cried out.

"Sasha, I've been bending over backward trying to make it up to you, and you're still going to keep this up?"

Pain shot through my wrist, and I instinctively tried to pull free.

His gaze fell on the jagged burn scar running down my right arm. Something flickered in his eyes before he finally let go.

I'd gotten that scar when I was 18, when a fire broke out at his house and I ran inside to drag him out.

Because of it, I had to give up my dream of getting into a dance academy. Instead, I took over the run-down pizzeria Mom had left me.

Back then, Nigel had held me in his arms while I was covered in blood, sobbing as he swore he'd take care of me for the rest of my life.

Now, all he cared about was that his precious Ruby couldn't stand that I smelled like the pizzeria.

I rubbed my wrist and kept my voice flat. "I'm not trying to pick a fight. I'm just tired."

Nigel stared at me for a moment, then scoffed.

"Fine. You don't want to cook? Then tomorrow I'll find someone to take over that dump of a pizzeria! Ruby covers her nose every time she walks down that street anyway. I've wanted you to shut that place down for ages."

I stopped and turned back to him, stunned. "Nigel, that pizzeria is the only thing my mom left me. What gives you the right to let someone else take it over?"

The moment I finally reacted, a flash of satisfaction crossed his face.

"Because the pizzeria is in my name now! Sasha, just do what I'm asking. Shut it down and take an admin job at my company. Wouldn't you rather work in a nice, clean office?

"You spend all day in that greasy place, and you always smell like you just came out of the kitchen. It makes you seem low-class. I'm embarrassed to bring you along when I meet with clients."

Hearing him call me low-class made my chest tighten.

For years, I'd stayed up late making soup for him. I kept the pizzeria running and used the money to help him build his business.

Now that he'd finally made it, he looked down on me for smelling like the same pizzeria that had helped him get there.

I took a deep breath and blinked back the sting in my eyes.

"Whatever."

Then I walked into my bedroom and locked the door behind me.

A loud crash came from the living room as Nigel kicked over the coffee table. A second later, he started shouting.

"Sasha Tenney! Don't think I won't do it! If you so much as open the pizzeria tomorrow, I'll have someone smash your sign!"

I leaned against the door and slowly slid to the floor. Then I pulled my plane ticket to Pavrelle from my pocket.

In two days, I'd be flying to the capital of Valenne. After that, Nigel wouldn't have to put up with me and my "low-class" smell anymore.

The next morning, I went to a law office downtown. I signed over my 50% stake in the pizzeria to a business owner who'd been trying to buy the place for a while. I didn't take a cent for it.

I had barely finished signing the papers when my phone started buzzing nonstop.

It was Glenda Wood, the manager at the pizzeria. She sounded like she was about to cry.

"Ms. Tenney, you need to get here right now! Mr. Jackman showed up with a bunch of people, and they're tearing the place apart! They said they're renovating it and turning it into some kind of Valennian pastry shop. They're throwing everything outside!"

My grip tightened around the phone.

Nigel really had gone too far.

I hailed a cab and told the driver to get me to the pizzeria as fast as possible.