Chapter 1

Another wave of pain hit me, a familiar, gut-wrenching cramp.

I was bleeding again.

This was the tenth time.

Each time it happened, my husband, Liam Stone, would bring a woman home.

A woman who looked like his first love.

Tonight was no different.

He stood in the doorway of our bedroom, his tall frame blocking the light from the hall. Beside him stood a woman, her face a near-perfect copy of the one in the faded photograph on Liam' s desk.

"This is Maya," he said, his voice flat, empty of any emotion. "She' ll be staying with us for a while."

He didn't look at me, his eyes were fixed on her.

Maya looked me up and down, a small, cruel smile on her lips. She was wearing a white designer dress, the kind I hadn't been able to afford in years.

"You' ll be serving us," Liam continued, his words like stones. "Get us some wine."

I pushed myself up from the bed, the mattress stained with a fresh patch of red. I didn't bother to hide it. He wouldn't care.

I moved slowly, my body aching. My whole world felt numb, except for the dull, persistent throb in my lower abdomen and the sharp ache in my chest.

I went to the kitchen and got the wine, my hands steady despite the turmoil inside me. I was used to this. This was my life.

I walked back into the bedroom.

They were on the bed, my bed. Liam was kissing her, his hands tangled in her long, dark hair. It was a scene I had been forced to watch nine times before.

I stood there, holding the tray, my feet rooted to the floor. I couldn't move, couldn't breathe. A part of me, the part that still foolishly loved him, screamed in silent agony.

"What are you waiting for?" Liam' s voice cut through the haze. He pulled away from Maya, annoyance flashing in his eyes.

I walked forward and placed the wine on the nightstand.

My hand trembled, and a single drop of red wine splashed onto Maya' s pristine white dress.

It was an accident.

Maya gasped, a theatrical, high-pitched sound.

"My dress! It' s ruined! This is a limited edition!"

Liam' s face turned to thunder. He moved so fast I didn' t have time to react. His hand shot out and grabbed my hair, yanking my head back.

"You clumsy bitch," he snarled. "You did that on purpose."

"No, Liam, I didn' t, it was an accident," I whispered, tears stinging my eyes.

He ignored me. He pulled out his phone, his other hand still tangled painfully in my hair. He aimed the camera at my face, then panned down to the wine stain on Maya' s dress, and then to the bloodstain on the bed.

He started a live broadcast.

I saw the viewer count climb. Ten, a hundred, a thousand. Comments started flooding in.

"Is that Chloe Miller? She looks awful."

"What a pathetic-looking woman. No wonder her husband cheats on her."

"Look at her, she' s so useless she can' t even pour wine."

Liam' s voice boomed through the room, broadcast to the world.

"Look at her. This is my wife, Chloe Miller. She can' t even do a simple task without messing it up."

He shoved my face closer to Maya' s dress.

"Lick it clean," he commanded.

My blood ran cold. The humiliation was a physical thing, clawing at my throat.

"Liam, please," I begged, my voice barely a whisper. "Don' t do this."

His grip tightened.

"Lick it. Or I' ll find other ways to make you pay. Maybe you' d prefer to serve more than just one of my guests tonight? I can make a few calls. I' m sure some of my friends would be happy to come over."

His threat hung in the air, heavy and vile. He meant it. He had threatened it before.

My mind went blank. The world narrowed to the white fabric, the red stain, and the thousands of anonymous eyes watching my degradation.

I closed my eyes and leaned forward.

The taste of wine and cheap perfume filled my mouth.

Liam laughed, a harsh, grating sound. He finally let go of my hair, and I collapsed onto the floor.

He ended the broadcast.

"Get out," he said, his voice dripping with disgust. "And don' t come back in here tonight."

I crawled out of the room, my body shaking. Another sharp pain shot through my abdomen, and I felt a warm gush of blood between my legs.

He left me in the yard, naked, bleeding onto the cold, damp grass. It was the tenth time. Ten miscarriages. Ten times he had brought a woman home. Ten times he had broken a piece of me.

Lying there, under the cold moon, I finally understood. This would never end. He would never love me. He would only ever destroy me.

As the last bit of warmth left my body, a new resolve settled in my heart.

It was time to see Arthur Stone. Liam' s grandfather.

My "good fortune" was broken. I couldn' t give Liam a child. I was done.

I had to leave.

I told him my good fortune was all used up, that I couldn't bear children anymore. I told him I was leaving.

Arthur Stone, his face etched with a grief that mirrored my own, agreed to help me.

But before I could escape, Maya found the small, simple urn I kept hidden in my closet.

The urn holding the ashes of my nine miscarried children.

Liam, ever the protector of his precious Maya, kicked me so hard I lost consciousness.

When I came to, I was a spectacle once more. A video of my most private moments with Liam, moments I thought were born of love, was all over the internet.

He wasn't done.

He forced me to donate blood to Maya, who he claimed was anemic. He took so much that my heart nearly stopped.

He froze my bank accounts.

I had to crawl home from the hospital, my body weak, my spirit shattered.

I returned to find Maya in the yard, a fire blazing in a metal barrel. My mother' s jade hairpin, my last connection to her, was turning to ash. The urn was gone, its contents scattered in the dirt.

Liam stood beside her, his arm protectively around her shoulders.

The next morning, the nine pear trees I had planted in the yard, one for each lost child, were gone. Uprooted. In their place, workers were planting rose bushes.

For Maya.

That was the end.

With Arthur' s help, I left the country. He filed the divorce papers on my behalf.

Liam laughed when he received them, so sure I would come crawling back.

He was wrong.

He only realized his mistake when he discovered Maya' s lies, the truth about her, the truth about his past, the truth about me.

He tried to win me back.

But by then, it was too late. I was gone, and I was never coming back.

His family' s business collapsed. His health failed.

The last I heard, Liam Stone, the man who had everything, was a reclusive, crippled beggar, haunting the grounds of his desolate mansion, obsessively planting pear trees.

Crying out my name in his madness.

---