Today, Julian’s first love, Valerie, returned. The same Valerie who, three months ago, falsely accused me of pushing her down the stairs. Now I was on the floor. One of the men stepped closer, his hands going to his belt. “Mr. Sterling, this is your wife. You’re really just throw her away?” Julian turned his back and walked away. “When you’re finished, dump her in the ocean.” Cloth tore. Cold air bit into the exposed skin of my back.. Seven days. Just seven more days. Until my brother’s surgery was over. Until the five million hit the offshore account. Then, Seraphina Sterling would cease to exist. Seraphina POV Even the roar of the casino floor couldn’t drown out the wet, sickening crunch of breaking bones. My right pinky finger was crushed under a leather shoe. Mr. Hayes’ jowly face quivered, and a glob of thick, yellow phlegm landed with a wet smack on my hand. “Already can’t take it, Mrs. Sterling? Julian told us that besides playing the piano, those hands are amazing at… pleasuring men.” The room was packed with onlookers. Some held up their phones, recording, others whistled and jeered. I didn’t scream. I bit down hard on my lower lip until it bled. I looked up. Julian stood by the railing of the VIP lounge on the second floor, swirling a half-empty glass of red wine. His voice, flat and emotionless, echoed through the speakers. “Mr. Hayes, enjoy yourself. After all, if Seraphina can’t pay back the debts her family ran up, those hands are useless anyway.” Another sickening crack. This time, it was my ring finger. Mr. Hayes pressed down, grinding his heel from side to side. “Julian is truly generous! Then I won’t hold back!” I felt icy sweat trickle down my forehead, soaking into the strands of hair plastered to the grimy floor. I stared at the figure on the second floor. Three years ago, it was these very hands Julian had cupped, making a solemn vow. “Seraphina, if anyone dares to touch your hands, I’ll take their life.” Now, he was the one twisting the knife. Because this morning, Valerie had returned from overseas. His ‘first love’, the one who’d accused me of pushing her down the stairs three months ago, was back after two months of ‘treatment’ abroad. For months, Julian had ‘atoned’ for Valerie’s ‘suffering’ by inflicting double the torment on me. I watched from the floor as Mr. Hayes unbuckled his belt. The laughter around me grew louder. “Julian, this is your wife, supposedly. Are you really throwing her away?” Someone shouted up to the second floor. Julian turned. “She’s broken. Dump her in the ocean, let the fish have her.” That was his answer. My breath hitched. My left hand, braced on the floor beside me, clawed into the thick carpet. Two of my fingernails tore off with sickening pops. Mr. Hayes bent down, his greasy hand reaching for my collar. “Hear that? Your husband doesn’t want you.” Fabric ripped. Large swaths of my skin were exposed to the cold air. With my good left hand, I fumbled inside my shirt, pulling out a perfectly folded piece of paper. A hospital bill. The ICU, twenty thousand a day. That was my brother, Caleb’s, life. Mr. Hayes paused, seeing me clutch the paper to my chest as if guarding my very last breath. “Two million.” I said, “Mr. Hayes, if I survive this ‘game,’ I want two million.” Mr. Hayes stared for a second, then burst into roaring laughter. “Mrs. Sterling, are you trying to cut a deal with me? Fine! If you down this bottle of liquor and then crawl through my legs, I’ll give you five million, not just two!” He kicked a bottle of potent vodka towards me. The bottle slammed into my broken fingers. Agony ripped through me, making my entire body convulse uncontrollably. I emptied the bottle. My stomach felt like it was ablaze, the burning sensation momentarily eclipsing the pain of my shattered fingers. I crawled on the floor, inch by agonizing inch. And slowly, I passed between Mr. Hayes’s spread legs. The entire room fell silent. Only the frantic clicks of camera shutters filled the air. Mr. Hayes hadn’t expected me to actually do it. His face twisted into a furious scowl. He pulled a checkbook from his jacket, scribbled on a check, and slapped it onto my face. “Go buy yourself a coffin!” I picked up the check with my left hand and saw the number. Five million. Enough. Enough for Caleb’s surgery next week, enough to keep him stable for another six months. I stumbled to my feet, clutching the bloodstained check. No one cared about me. The crowd dispersed, moving on to the next round of revelry. I staggered out of the hall and reached the edge of the deck. My phone buzzed. A bank transfer alert popped up, followed by a screen full of missed FaceTime calls from ‘Julian’-that was before yesterday. Then, a new alert flashed. From the contact saved as L. “Package secured. New identity at the dead drop. Wheels up in seven. This is your last window.” I lifted my gaze to the endless, swallowing dark of the open sea. I took a photo of the five-million-dollar check and sent it to Dr. Miller at the hospital. In the chat box, I typed a single word. “Okay.” Seven days. I had to endure him for seven more days. Just until Caleb’s surgery was complete. Until that money was clean and resting in an offshore account. Then, Seraphina would cease to be.
Seraphina POV At three in the morning, I pushed open the front door. The house was dark. My right hand, still untreated, was crudely wrapped in a bandage. A figure sat on the living room sofa. “Finally decided to come home?” Julian’s voice was hoarse, laced with mockery. The lights flared on. I raised my hand to shield my eyes, a movement that pulled at my fresh wound. Julian wore a black shirt, his collar open, revealing a dark red hickey on his collarbone. It was new. “What’s wrong? Didn’t please Mr. Hayes enough? Got kicked out?” Julian stood, stepping closer, one slow stride after another. A wave of stale cigarette smoke, tainted with a cloying, unfamiliar woman’s perfume, hit me like a physical blow. I said nothing, trying to walk past him and go upstairs. He grabbed my wrist, his fingers clamping down right on the shattered bones of my hand. A raw scream ripped from my throat. My reaction seemed to enrage Julian further, and he tightened his grip. “What are you playing at? Three months ago, when you pushed Valerie down the stairs, I didn’t see you acting so fragile.” “I didn’t.” It was a phrase I’d repeated countless times over the past three years. “Didn’t?” Julian flung my hand away. I slammed into the entryway console, my right hand taking another heavy blow. I curled into a ball, cold sweat dripping onto the floor. Julian loomed over me. “The doctor said Valerie’s leg has permanent damage; she’ll never dance again. Seraphina, your hand being broken is just karma. You deserve it.” He picked up a document from the coffee table and threw it at me. The sharp corner of the paper grazed my cheek. “Sign it.” I picked up the document with my left hand. A ‘Cornea Donor Consent Form’. Recipient: Valerie. I looked up at Julian. “What happened to her eyes?” “Complications from her car accident a year ago. Retinal detachment. She needs a transplant.” Julian’s tone was flat. “Your cornea is the highest match.” “I won’t sign.” I threw the document back at him. “You don’t have a choice.” Julian bent down, pinching my chin. “Caleb’s still in the ICU at St. Jude’s, isn’t he? Time for his surgery payment this week, too?” The five million was still processing; it wouldn’t arrive until tomorrow at the earliest. If Julian cut off the hospital’s medication now… “You’re a monster.” “Not as much as you.” Julian released my chin, then meticulously wiped his fingers on a tissue as if I was something vile. “Back then, to marry me, you drugged Grandpa, forcing Valerie to leave the country. What part of that wasn’t despicable?” I opened my mouth. Explain? Explain that Valerie swapped Grandpa’s meds? Explain that she skipped town because she got paid off by Sterling Corporation, Julian’s biggest rival? It was useless. All the evidence had been destroyed. Only Valerie’s perfectly crafted, fake ‘diary’ survived. Julian only believed what he saw. “Sign it, and I’ll cover Caleb’s surgery.” Julian said, his final words. I looked at the document. One cornea. For Caleb’s life. It was a fair trade. What did it matter? I’d be gone in seven days. One less eye wouldn’t stop my disappearance. “Okay.” Julian’s movements froze. He frowned, looking at me. “Pen.” I extended my left hand. Julian handed me the pen. I scrawled my name clumsily in the signature box. The handwriting was ugly, the messy scrawl of a useless lefty. “When is the surgery scheduled?” I asked. “Next Monday.” Next Monday. The seventh day. I calculated the timing in my head. If I could just delay until the last moment before the surgery, Valerie wouldn’t get the cornea, and Julian would be so preoccupied with the surgery preparations that his guard would be down. Perfect. “Fine.” I handed him the document. “But I have a condition.” “You’re in no position to bargain.” “These next few days, I’m staying in the guest room. Also, find me a doctor to set my hand.” I held up my hand, swollen like a pastry. “Otherwise, if it gets infected, it’ll mess with my vitals, and the cornea quality will drop. You want that?” Julian stared at my hand for a few seconds. “Mr. Davies will bring a doctor.” He snatched the document and turned to leave. He stopped at the staircase, not looking back. “Valerie moves in tomorrow. You’d better stay out of her way. Don’t let me catch sight of that grim expression on your face.” “Got it.” Julian’s back stiffened for a moment, then he strode upstairs. The master bedroom door slammed shut, shaking the house. I slid down the wall, collapsing to the floor. I pulled out my phone and sent a message to “Liam”. “Plan change. Evacuation moved to Sunday night.” Sunday night. The eve of the surgery. That would be when Julian was least vigilant, and most consumed by his fury. I glanced at the closed door upstairs. Julian, you want atonement? Here it is. But you’ll never get this eye.
Seraphina POV In the early morning, the mansion’s front doors were slammed open. A dozen movers poured in, bustling in and out of the house. My belongings were tossed out one by one. My piano scores, my orchids, even our wedding photo hanging in the entryway-all were bundled up and thrown into the trash can in the yard. Pink shag carpets, giant diffusers, and a pristine white Steinway grand piano were hauled inside. I sat on the small balcony of the guest room, a glass of water in my left hand. A sweet, tinkling laugh floated up from downstairs. “Julian, does this vase look good here? Is it in the way?” Valerie sat in a wheelchair, dressed in a white lace dress, a delicate porcelain doll. Julian stood behind her, pushing her wheelchair, his eyes soft with tenderness. “Whatever you like. The whole house is yours, change it however you want.” “But… won’t Seraphina be upset?” Valerie looked up timidly. “There’s no Seraphina here,” Julian said. “Only a maid who’s about to be kicked to the curb.” I heard every word clearly. A maid. Indeed, in three years of marriage, the most I’d done was serve him. Just then, a knock came at the door. Mr. Davies stood there, holding a maid’s uniform. “Ms. Seraphina.” Mr. Davies’s tone shifted quickly. “Julian has instructed that there’s a party tonight, and we’re short-staffed. He wants you to change into this and help with serving drinks.” I looked at the ridiculously skimpy maid’s uniform. “I’m injured.” I pointed to my casted hand. “Julian said that if one hand’s useless, you still have the other.” Mr. Davies placed the clothes on the bed. “If you don’t change, Caleb’s situation…” Caleb, again. I closed my eyes. “Get out.” After Mr. Davies left, I changed into the uniform with one hand. The dress was tight, making it hard to breathe. I looked at myself in the mirror. Pale, gaunt, like a ghost. Good. The more pitiful I looked, the more Julian would relish it, and the less he’d suspect me. At six in the evening, guests poured into the house, Julian and Valerie’s entire social circle. These were the same people who, back then, had scoffed at me as a “desperate hanger-on.” Now, their eyes were filled with smug amusement and thinly veiled contempt. “Well, well, isn’t that the former piano prodigy? Look at her, dressed like that!” “Heard she sold her husband for money? Still clinging to the house?” “Utterly shameless.” Valerie was surrounded by guests, smiling, radiating happiness. When she saw me approach with a tray, a flicker of pure malice darted through her eyes. “Seraphina, darling, could you fetch me a glass of red wine?” Valerie’s voice was soft. I walked over, my left hand holding the wine glass steady. Just as I handed it to Valerie, her hand suddenly trembled. Red wine splashed across Valerie’s pristine white dress. “Ah!” Valerie shrieked, her eyes welling up. “My leg… it’s so cold…” “What happened!” Julian shoved through the crowd, practically throwing me aside. Losing my balance, I fell to the floor. My casted hand slammed against the table corner. The agony made my vision swim, then black out for a second. “Seraphina! Are you trying to die?!” Julian knelt to check Valerie’s leg. “Julian, don’t blame Seraphina… I just lost my grip…” Valerie sobbed, tears streaming down her face. “Seraphina must be upset that I’m getting her cornea. She’s just so angry…” The room erupted. “What? She won’t donate?” “Valerie got her leg injured because Seraphina pushed her, and now her eyes are going bad, and she’s still so selfish?” “Exactly! She took Mrs. Sterling’s place for three years, and she’s still not satisfied!” Julian suddenly turned, glaring at me. “Apologize.” I lay on the floor, pushing myself up to a sitting position. I looked at the ‘couple’. Apologize? Fine. I slowly got up and walked to Valerie. “I’m sorry.” “I didn’t hear you!” Julian roared. I took a deep breath, bent at the waist, a deep, mocking bow. “I’m sorry, Miss Valerie. I shouldn’t have spilled wine on you.” “I shouldn’t have taken Mrs. Sterling’s place.” “I shouldn’t even be alive, bothering your perfect lives.” “Get to the kitchen.” Julian ordered. “Don’t come out until the party’s over.” I turned and walked away. No looking back, no tears. Back in the kitchen, I closed the door, shutting out the noise from outside. I pulled a tiny USB drive from the pocket of my apron. I’d slipped it from Julian’s suit pocket during the chaos of my fall. It contained Julian’s company’s most sensitive data. Exactly what Liam needed. I found a piece of raw meat, shoved the USB drive deep into it, then tossed it into the very bottom of the freezer. After that, I leaned against the freezer door, gasping for breath. My right hand throbbed as if it had broken all over again. But I smiled. Julian, if you’d just checked the security footage, you’d see Valerie deliberately spilled that wine herself. But you wouldn’t check. You would never believe me. My phone vibrated. A bank transfer notification. Five million. It had arrived. I immediately transferred the money to the offshore account I’d been preparing for three years. Then, I factory-reset my phone and tossed it into the churning garbage disposal. The phone shattered into fragments. That was the first connection I severed.
Seraphina POV To appease a ‘traumatized’ Valerie, Julian decided to host a charity auction on Friday night. It was philanthropy in name only. In truth, it was a stage: to generate publicity for Valerie and formally reintroduce her as the woman of Julian’s house. The evening’s centerpiece was an antique grand piano. It was the grand piano Julian had given me for my eighteenth birthday, after I won the International Chopin Gold Medal. Now, he was auctioning off that very piano, with all proceeds going to a foundation for the visually impaired, in Valerie’s name. How ironic. Using his ex-wife’s most cherished possession to pave the way for his current flame. I was ordered to attend. The reason: as the piano’s original owner, I was needed for the final “handover” ceremony. Humiliation. Pure, unadulterated humiliation. Backstage at the venue, I stood in a corner, wearing a faded, ill-fitting old gown. Valerie, in a custom-made gown shimmering like a night sky, was getting her makeup touched up, a princess reborn. “Seraphina, I’m truly sorry for you.” Valerie watched me in the mirror. “Julian said you can’t play this piano anymore, and it’s just taking up space at home, so it’s better to use it for charity.” I looked at the black Steinway grand being wheeled onto the stage. A faint scratch marred the lid, a tiny mark I’d made with my hairpin when I’d collapsed from exhaustion during practice. Back then, Julian had been heartbroken, holding me tight, whispering reassurances all night long. Now, he was selling that memory. “Good for something, I guess,” I said. Valerie’s smile faltered for a moment, then she recovered her sweet demeanor. “Seraphina, you’re so philosophical. Oh, Julian said he wants to play ‘Wedding of Love’ with me tonight. You don’t mind, do you?” ‘Wedding of Love.’ It was the song from Julian’s and my wedding. I said nothing, just lowered my gaze to my casted hand. From the front, the host’s voice boomed. “And now, please welcome Julian and Valerie, as they bring us our opening performance!” Thunderous applause. The curtain swept open, and two spotlights illuminated the center of the stage. Julian sat on one side of the piano bench, Valerie on the other. A four-hand duet. The scene was picture-perfect. I stood in the shadows behind the curtain, watching it all unfold. Once, the one sitting there had been me. The music began. Valerie’s technique was mediocre at best, riddled with wrong notes, her rhythm unsteady. But Julian matched her, slowing his pace, using his masterful skill to cover her flaws. When Valerie made a mistake, he would even turn to her, a doting smile in his eyes. I felt sick. I remembered three years ago, how my fingers were raw, covered in angry blisters, from practicing this very song. Julian had carefully pricked my blisters, whispering, “Seraphina, from now on, play only for me.” Liar. They were all liars. The piece ended. The applause was endless. The host rushed onto the stage, thrilled. “Simply breathtaking! This is what true love looks like! Next, we will be auctioning off this piano, a witness to Julian’s love story! Starting bid: five million!” “Ten million!” The first bid sent a ripple of shock through the room. Everyone turned. A tall man in a gray suit, wearing gold-rimmed glasses, walked in from the entrance, holding up a bidding paddle. Cyrus. Cyrus Sterling, the head of the Sterling Corporation and Julian’s fiercest rival in the business world. And my former classmate. The smile on Julian’s face vanished instantly. He stood up and walked to the front of the stage. “Cyrus, what the hell are you playing at?” “No particular reason,” Cyrus said, adjusting his glasses. “Some things, if the original owner doesn’t appreciate them, are better off with someone who does.” Julian saw me. “Twenty million.” Julian spoke. He clearly regretted putting it up for auction. “Thirty million,” Cyrus said without hesitation. “Fifty million!” Julian gritted his teeth. The entire room gasped. Fifty million for a piano was an astronomical sum. Cyrus smiled, then put down his paddle. “Julian, you’re as rich as they say. But…” Cyrus’s tone shifted. “Some things, you can’t hold onto forever.” With that, he gave me a deep, knowing look, then turned and left. In that fleeting glance, I saw a hidden message. I understood. Cyrus was helping me. He was using this method to tell Julian that someone was watching this piano, watching me. And it meant Julian, for the sake of his ego, would never let that piano leave his possession. The piano went unsold, remaining with Julian. Backstage, Julian dragged me into a dressing room. The door locked with a heavy click. “What’s your relationship with Cyrus?” Julian pinned me against the wall, his eyes bloodshot. “Nothing.” “Nothing? Then why would he spend thirty million on your damn piano?” Julian’s grip on my chin was so tight, I thought my jaw would shatter. “Seraphina, have you already found someone new? That affair three years ago, are you still so shameless?” “I didn’t.” I shook my head. “If you believe I cheated, and now I have someone else, then let me go.” I met his gaze directly. “You need to make room for Valerie anyway, and I’ve signed the donation papers.” “Never!” Julian snarled. “You want to leave? Dream on!” Julian’s teeth were clenched. “As long as I say no, you’re bound to me, in life and in death!” He tore my gown. “You want a man? Fine. I’ll give you one!” There was no prelude. Just a brutal, punitive assault. I bit down hard on the plaster cast on my arm, choking back every sound. My tears had long dried. My heart was dead. When it was over, Julian adjusted his clothes. “Go to the hospital for pre-op checks tomorrow. Don’t go anywhere these next few days.” He slammed the door shut and left. I lay on the cold floor, my body aching. I waited. Waited for the signal Cyrus had left me. When I’d been shoved earlier, I’d felt a slip of paper pressed into my pocket by Cyrus. My trembling fingers pulled it out. It contained only a short line of text and a tiny key. “Tomorrow night, midnight, back door delivery truck. Locker 302.” The key to my freedom. Or a one-way ticket to hell. If I failed, I’d have my legs broken and be locked away forever by Julian. But I had no choice. I swallowed the paper and hid the key in the crevices of my cast. Julian, you left me no choice.
Seraphina POV The hospital corridor reeked of antiseptic. I followed behind Julian, led into the VIP ophthalmology clinic. Valerie sat in the examination chair, and Julian was leaning down, kissing her forehead. “Don’t be scared. Dr. Miller is personally performing the surgery. You’ll be able to see again tomorrow.” Valerie clutched Julian’s coat, shrinking back just a little. “Seraphina is really willing? After all, it’s removing an eyeball…” “She doesn’t have a choice.” Julian turned, his tone devoid of warmth. “Sign it.” On the table lay the ‘Surgical Consent Form’. I picked up the pen with my left hand. Dr. Miller adjusted his glasses, his voice professional and flat. “Ms. Seraphina, after the left eyeball is removed, a prosthetic eye will be fitted. There’s a risk of rejection, but it won’t affect your appearance. Please sign if you confirm.” My pen hovered over the line. “I need to use the restroom.” Julian frowned. “Always so difficult.” “I want to go too.” Valerie suddenly stood up, fumbling for Julian’s hand. “Julian, I want to touch up my makeup. I don’t want you to see me looking tired.” Julian’s gaze softened. “Okay, I’ll help you.” “No need, just Seraphina can come with me.” Valerie smiled sweetly. Inside the restroom. The stall door locked. Valerie stood in front of the mirror, reaching up to take off her large sunglasses. Her eyes, clear as glass, held no hint of impairment. She pulled lipstick from her bag and, gazing into the mirror, meticulously outlined her lips. Not a single smudge. “Just as I thought,” I said. “Surprised?” Valerie pursed her lips, turning to face me, her eyes filled with malice. “Seraphina, I never actually needed your cornea. I just wanted to make you blind.” My left hand, in my pocket, gripped the tiny key I’d retrieved from my cast. “Caleb’s surgery fee, Julian already paid it,” I said. “Did he?” Valerie chuckled softly, pulling out her phone and playing a video. In the video, the oxygen tube in Caleb’s ICU room was half-pulled out. The monitor blared a piercing alarm, and nurses scrambled to save him. I lunged to snatch the phone. Valerie sidestepped, then slapped me across the face. I slammed into the sink, my casted hand taking another brutal hit. “Your brother’s pathetic life? It’s in my hands now.” Valerie leaned closer, lowering her voice. “Tomorrow’s surgery, if you dare to run, or say anything, I’ll have them pull the plug entirely.” I glared at her. “What do you want?” “I want you to die on the operating table.” Valerie pulled an eyebrow razor from her bag and shoved it into the crevices of my cast. “Anesthesia complications, cardiac arrest – these things happen all the time in surgery. I want you dead on that table, clearing the way for me to be Mrs. Sterling.” A knock came at the door. Julian’s voice. “Valerie? Are you ready?” Valerie’s face instantly transformed. She swept the hand soap bottle off the sink, letting it crash to the floor. “Seraphina, no!” She shrieked, throwing herself to the ground. The door burst open. Julian rushed in, seeing Valerie sprawled on the floor and me ‘holding’ an eyebrow razor. “Seraphina!” Julian’s foot connected hard with my stomach. I flew backward, my back slamming against the edge of the toilet, and I crumpled to the floor, pain curling me into a ball. “Julian… Seraphina said if I could see again, you wouldn’t want her… She wanted to ruin my face…” Valerie sobbed, burying her face in Julian’s chest. Julian picked up Valerie, his eyes on me, as if looking at a corpse. “Lock her in the morgue,” Julian ordered the security guards who’d rushed in. “Let her have a good reality check.” The guards came forward, dragging me out as I coughed up blood. I didn’t struggle. As they pulled me through the door, I saw Valerie, clinging to Julian’s shoulder, silently mouthed two words at me: “Die. Bitch.” The morgue was freezing. I was thrown between the stainless steel gurneys. The icy chill seeped deep into my bones. I huddled in the corner, pulling out the tiny voice recorder I’d prepared earlier. Everything in the restroom had been recorded. This was my last card. It was meant for negotiating with Julian, but now, it would be Valerie’s funeral song. My phone buzzed. A message from “Liam”. “Caleb’s been moved. Cyrus’s people have him now. You can proceed.” I looked at the screen and laughed. I laughed, tears streaming down my face. Valerie, your biggest mistake was believing I still cared about Julian. I sat in the morgue’s frigid air all night. Until dawn, when the guards opened the door. “Come out. Julian wants you home to prepare for surgery.”
Seraphina POV I’d returned from the morgue with a raging fever. Julian only gave me one fever reducer. His reason: “You’re having general anesthesia tomorrow. Too many meds will mess with your metabolism.” Julian came down from his study, dressed in a black suit, his tie knotted without a single wrinkle. He surveyed the dishes on the table. “Sit. Eat with me.” “I’m not hungry.” “I said sit down.” Julian pulled out a chair, his words brooking no argument. I obeyed, sitting down. Valerie picked up a shrimp and offered it to Julian, her voice sweet and soft. “Julian, this dish Seraphina made, it used to be your favorite. Try it?” Julian opened his mouth, chewed twice, then spat it into the bone plate. “Too salty.” He set his fork down with a sharp click. “Seraphina, are you doing this on purpose?” I looked at the white rice in my bowl. “My hand was shaking. Couldn’t control the salt.” “Shaking?” Julian grabbed my casted arm. “I saw you playing for your lover. You seemed steady enough then.” His fingers tightened. Excruciating pain ripped through me, making my body twitch involuntarily. Cold sweat drenched the back of my shirt, but I didn’t make a sound. “After the surgery tomorrow, this hand will be useless anyway.” Julian flung my hand away. “I’ll arrange for you to be sent to a sanitarium. You won’t leave without my permission.” It was a sentence of soft imprisonment. I picked up my spoon and calmly took a sip of soup. Fourteen more hours. After dinner, a document was thrown onto the table in front of me. A ‘Divorce Settlement Agreement’. “Sign it.” Julian lit a cigarette. “Giving Valerie her rightful place is the last thing you can do.” I opened the agreement. Zero assets. I’d be leaving with nothing. Even the small house my mother left me was already legally Julian’s. “Okay.” I picked up the pen and signed my name. Julian’s fingers, clutching the cigarette, paused. “Aren’t you going to read the terms?” “No need.” I closed the document. “Whatever makes you happy, Julian.” My indifferent attitude was the final spark that ignited Julian’s simmering rage. He stubbed out his cigarette and pushed me onto the sofa. “Seraphina, are you hoping Cyrus is going to ride in and save you? I’m telling you, the Sterling Corporation is in crisis. Cyrus is already on a flight to Europe tonight, trying to save his own ass.” My breath hitched. Cyrus was gone? Then what about tomorrow’s pickup…? “Desperate?” Julian’s finger traced my cheek. “Just hand over the cornea, and I might consider making your life in the sanitarium more comfortable.” He finished speaking, picked up the agreement, and went upstairs. I lay on the sofa, staring silently at the ceiling. My phone was shattered; I couldn’t contact anyone. If Cyrus really was gone, this was a checkmate. Two in the morning. Rain lashed against the windows. I fished a paperclip from deep within the couch cushions. Barefoot, I avoided the blind spots of the hallway cameras and slipped into the first-floor study. Julian’s safe was in the study. With my left hand, I manipulated the paperclip into the keyhole. Click. The old-fashioned mechanical lock clicked open with a soft snick. I didn’t take any money, nor did I touch any sensitive documents. I placed the voice recorder, along with the ‘real vision test report’ Valerie had torn up and meticulously taped back together, deep inside the safe. Julian always opened it first thing in the morning to retrieve his watch. Mission accomplished, I closed the safe. Back in the guest room, I carefully unwound the bandage over my cast. Hidden inside, a single line of text was inked: Cyrus’s contingency plan. “If Plan A fails, initiate Plan B: The Funeral.” I re-bandaged the cast, even tying it tighter than before, using the pain to keep my nerves buzzing, to stay awake. Outside, thunder growled. I stood by the window, watching the distant lightning tear across the night sky.
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