Chapter 3

I remembered the time I accidentally spilled coffee on one of Liam' s business papers.

The punishment was swift and brutal.

He' d made me kneel on broken glass in the library for three hours while he worked. He said it would teach me to be more careful. The shards had dug into my knees, and the pain was excruciating, but the worst part was the look of cold indifference on his face as he watched me bleed.

That was years ago. The physical pain of that memory had faded, but the humiliation remained.

Maya' s voice snapped me back to the present.

"What are you standing there for? Go and draw me a bath. And don' t forget the rose petals this time. Liam likes the smell of roses."

I nodded numbly and headed upstairs to the master bathroom. It was a daily ritual. I was expected to prepare her bath, lay out her clothes, and cater to her every whim. I was the lady of the house in name only. In reality, I was her servant.

As I filled the tub, the steam rising to fog the mirrors, Maya appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame.

"You know," she said conversationally, "Liam was thinking of doing another live stream. Maybe one where you scrub the floors. People seemed to really enjoy the last one. The comments were hilarious."

She laughed, a high, tinkling sound that grated on my nerves.

"They said you looked like a stray dog begging for scraps. It was perfect."

I ignored her, focusing on getting the water temperature just right. My knees ached from standing, a phantom pain from kneeling on broken glass all those years ago. My abdomen was a dull, constant throb. My body was a roadmap of Liam' s cruelty, but my heart, my heart was just tired. It was too tired to feel the sting of her words anymore.

I was about to turn off the water when she moved.

She darted forward and snatched the small wooden urn from my hands. I had set it down on the counter, a foolish, careless mistake.

"What' s this?" she asked, her voice laced with a cruel curiosity. She shook it next to her ear. "It' s empty. What, is this where you keep your dignity? Oh, wait, you don' t have any of that left."

A surge of pure, cold panic shot through me, so powerful it almost made me sick.

"Give it back, Maya," I said, my voice low and dangerous.

It was the first time I had used that tone with her, and it took her by surprise.

She smirked, her grip tightening on the urn.

"Or what? What are you going to do about it, Chloe?"

"Please," I begged, the fight draining out of me as quickly as it had appeared. Desperation took its place. "It' s important to me. Please, just give it back."

That urn was everything. It was the only thing I had to remember them by. My babies. My nine lost children. It was my most sacred possession, a symbol of a grief so profound Liam could never understand it.

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