All Chapters of Prisoner of Shame: Chapter 31 - Chapter 38

Brielle stood at the front door, clutching her jacket tighter around herself as if it could shield her from the storm brewing inside.“I want to go alone,” she said softly.David didn’t respond at first. His eyes darkened, jaw tightening. She saw the flicker of offense flash across his face—like she’d wounded him.But then he inhaled slowly… once… twice… his lips parting to count silently: one, two, three… ten.He smiled. Not fully. Not the smile she feared—but close.“I understand,” he said, voice strained with the effort it took. “I’ll drop you off. You can call me when you’re done.”Relief flooded her limbs. She nodded, forcing a small smile, and followed him to the car.The ride was quiet.He pulled up to the curb in front of the OB office, hand brushing her thigh as she reached for the door. “You’ll call me right after?”She nodded again. “I will.”David watched her go, eyes locked on her figure until the building swallowed her whole. Then—he exhaled like a man finally free to br

A few weeks later, Brielle stood beneath a soft canopy of white lights, the garden wrapped in late-spring hush and rose petals. Guests murmured and smiled, their chairs lined in two neat rows across the manicured lawn of the Knightwood estate. Music drifted in the background—light, classical, delicate.Her dress was simple. Ivory satin, soft and flowing. Not too tight, not too bold. She hadn’t wanted a veil. Hadn’t wanted anything that would make the moment feel more permanent than it already did. Instead, she wore her hair down in loose waves, a single pearl pin tucked behind her ear.Her smile was soft. Almost convincing.Her heart was anything but.Her arm was threaded through Xander’s—his face unusually solemn, the tension in his jaw betraying what he didn’t say. He knew this wasn’t the fairy tale it appeared to be. But he walked her down the aisle anyway, silent and protective.David waited for her at the altar, his black suit crisp and tailored. His eyes never left her. When the

David awoke to a sound no man should ever hear.A scream. Ripped from the throat of the woman he loved like it had claws—wild, primal, full of terror.His eyes snapped open, body reacting before mind caught up. The sheets were twisted around his legs, her body writhing beside him. “Brielle?” he rasped, already reaching. “What is it? Talk to me—”But she didn’t respond.She couldn’t.She was sobbing, thrashing, clawing at her thighs like she was trying to tear something out of herself. Her nails raked the sheets, legs kicking, mouth open in a soundless wail now—one that had stolen her breath.David reached for her again—and froze.His hand met something wet.Something thick.Sticky.Warm.He yanked it back like it burned him, staring at his fingers in the dim light. They were smeared in red.His stomach dropped through the floor.“Fuck—no, no, no—”He lunged for the bedside lamp, and when the light flared to life, the room shifted.It was no longer a bedroom.It was a crime scene.The

Four Years Later…Brielle stepped out of Michael Trevors’ law office with the sun warming her cheeks and something even rarer pulsing in her chest—relief. Not joy. Not yet. But the quiet, quaking breath of a woman who had just crossed the last bridge behind her and tossed the match without flinching.She didn’t drive back to the mansion. She didn’t even glance in that direction. Instead, she turned the wheel toward Rovello Drive. The house her mother had died in. The house David had gutted and rebuilt just to appease her grief. Now it was hers, in full. She had the deed. Her name. Her autonomy. And she wasn’t going back.Not this time.Her fingers trembled as she pulled into the driveway, but her spine held straight. Her heart pounded—not from fear, but from something she hadn’t felt in a long time.Finality.David would be livid. She knew that. He would twist and scream and try every tactic in his arsenal. But it was too late. She had been planning her escape in silence for years—whi