Part 2After the Kneeling

After I was discharged, I was a ghost in my own home. I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream.

In a shocking turn, Chris wired me a substantial amount of money for living expenses. It was the first time in seven years he had ever made a gesture of peace. In the past, a single text from him would have sent me into a flurry of a hundred replies.

This time, I declined the transfer.

An angry voice memo arrived moments later. "Heidi, don't be ungrateful. Take the damn money or don't, I don't care!"

That night, he brought Evelyn back to the villa.

He watched my face, looking for a reaction. When he found none, only a placid emptiness, his own expression soured, and he retreated to his study for a video conference.

Evelyn slinked over to me, a smirk playing on her lips. "Look at you. Childbirth has completely wrecked your body. If I were you, I'd be too ashamed to even be in the same room as Chris."

She was trying to provoke me, to bait me into a fight. In the past, it would have worked. The slightest provocation from her, and I would have lunged.

But now, I just watched her, my silence a mirror to her one-woman show. My direct, unblinking gaze seemed to unnerve her.

Just as Chris emerged from the study, Evelyn snatched a fruit knife from the table and swiped it across her own palm.

Blood welled up instantly.

She shoved the knife into my hand and collapsed dramatically onto the floor. "Mrs. Astor, please! I just love Chris! I only want to be near him! You don't have to kill me for it!"

It was her favorite trick. The one she used time and again.

In the past, I would have dropped the knife and frantically tried to explain, to tell Chris how she had orchestrated the whole thing.

This time, I held onto the knife. I let her cast me as the villain.

And Chris, as always, played his part. He shoved me aside with a roar. "Heidi, jealousy has its limits! Are you trying to become a murderer?"

I stumbled backward, off-balance, and fell. The blade of the knife sliced a deep gash across my wrist.

I stared at the new wound, mesmerized, as Chris’s cold voice washed over me. "Apologize to her. Now."

When I didn't move, he hauled me to my feet and pushed me in front of Evelyn.

An apology? Fine.

I picked up the fruit knife from the floor, pressed it against the fresh cut on my wrist, and dragged it deeper. Then I looked up at Chris, a faint, chilling smile on my lips.

"Is this the kind of apology you were looking for? If not, I can always—"

"Enough, Heidi!"

Seeing the blood pour from my wrist, a flicker of something—worry? panic?—crossed Chris’s eyes. He snatched the knife away. "Have you lost your mind?"

His gaze fell to my arm, and his voice trembled. He had finally noticed the dense lattice of pale, faded scars that covered my skin. "Where… where did all these cuts come from?"

For seven years, he had paraded a revolving door of women through our home. None of them were simple. Like Evelyn, they all loved to play games, to push and provoke, to rub salt in my wounds. Some of these scars were gifts from his lovers. Others were from him, when he was defending them.

Chris stared at my wrist for a long, silent moment. So long that I thought he might actually remember.

But then, a cruel, mocking smile spread across his face.

"So this is your new tactic, Heidi? When catching me with other women didn't work, you decided to try self-harm to get my attention?"

He squeezed my wrist, his fingers digging into the wounded flesh. The pain was sharp, and I winced. But then I remembered.

Only three more days until I was free.

Suddenly, it didn't hurt at all.